#gathered information and such about someone that he took an interest in

[soulsxng]

Because I saw it kind of going around, muses that would stalk their s/o:

Eluvias -This used to have a very big element of Danger to it, since depending on what he saw, it could lead to a whole possessive break in which Luvi could get very violent, very fast. I...don't actually know if he'd get to that point these days, but I know he's the type to stalk an s/o to get more information about them, follow them around, "borrow" things from them, etc. He wants to know everything there is to know, on top of just wanting to be close to them, wanting to make sure they're safe, wanting to make sure they're not getting into trouble--

Pereux -Mostly just likes watching, and likes when her partner does the same with her. Aside from that, she's also the type to have things set in place that allow her to know exactly where her partner is at all times-- and again, vice versa. In her mind, these are behaviors that show her desire for another person, and their desire for her, in turn. Also, this is kind of normal where she's from (The Otherworlds), so...*shrugs*

Baphomet -With Baet, he's prone to stalking just about anyone/thing that he finds especially interesting. With an s/o, he doesn't care how long it takes, he'll take his time gathering information about all sorts of things. It's kind of like a game to him, unraveling secrets bit by bit and getting the immediate reward of learning more about the person he loves. He does respect boundaries pretty well though (as opposed to when he was younger), so if there are things his partner doesn't want him poking around in, he'll respect it. Also lots of following them around/showing up places that they're at.

Ezra -His is more...situational, I feel. It would largely depend on who he's with, and would manifest mostly as check ins or periodically showing up somewhere that his s/o is to surprise them. A big reason why is the whole addictive personality thing-- it's not that he doesn't trust them, or anything like that, but more that he just feels like he needs to see them. It feels good to see/hear/be around them.

Niesal -In the event they actually ended up in a relationship, there would be a lot of monitoring of their partner being done pretty constantly. And/or a lot of anxious checking in. They'll poke around in their partners secrets and such too, though not too bad. Most of this is, for them, caused by relationships in general are terrifying to them, and knowing more about their partner/what they're doing/where they are is comforting to them. Like Ezra, this might be fairly situational, or depends heavily on who they're with.

[hazelfoureyes]

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

[mochinomnoms]

Silly JadeYuu idea but!!

I've seen it so often in fanfics where Jade can dig up info on literally anyone in the school, so he decides to get his hands on any and all information on The Prefect as he can.

Except, there really isn't a lot to dig up on The Prefect, is there? Don't get him wrong, Jade loves a challenge but it seems like he forgot that Yuu didn't even exist in Twisted Wonderland before September, there is no digital footprint to doomscroll through, no hometown he can research and become an over night expert on. Crowly doesn't even have your birthdate recorded on file!!

All Jade has to go of off learning anything he can about Yuu is your besties Adeuce and Grim (awful, he'd die before he let's himself owe Ace Trappola a favour) or ask you all about yourself which...sounds almost too easy to work, right?

Or something 💦

Aaaaa it's such a predicament for him! At first, he didn't really need to gather too much information on you, but now that he's interested and needs to know you inside and out, the weirdly limited amount of information about you is concerning....

this can take place in the later chapters of ptm when you are starting to pine back for jade~

tags: @ghousus

Jade had meant an unfortunate roadblock. Which was rare for him, especially when it came to intel.

It only took him but a few days to compile the intel on his dorm's freshmen for Azul, he even managed to find students' secret social media accounts.

Yet you were simultaneously NRC's worst and best kept secret.

He's positive that Crowley had intended to keep your transdimensional status a secret to but himself and the staff, yet it became increasingly obvious as the last school year progressed that you were not from this world.

If the lack of basic magical knowledge for didn't tip someone off, the gap in basic history facts and the random things you spewed out did.

"WHY IS THE CAT'S EARS ON FIRE? AND BLUE?" "Is that, like, your actual ears and tail or?" "Wait, so you're not an elf? Isn't that the same thing as a fae?" "Oh yeah we have a story about a kid and a beanstalk too! No guns on school grounds though, too many school shootings." "HOLY FUCK WHY DO YOU HAVE SCALES?" "I'm not making it up, people back home go to space, we have flags on the moon! You mean to tell me you guys didn't have a space race or something? ...What do you mean what's the point!? IT'S THE MOON!"

No one could really fault you for your cluelessness, thought Jade found it quite cute.

Unfortunately, that made it difficult to find information on you, especially back when Azul task him with finding dirt on you to get Ramshackle.

"I'm sorry to say Azul, but there is no information on Ramshackle's prefect prior to their attendance here. Not even evidence of their birth." "Well look harder! It's not like they popped out of nowhere! I need that dorm Jade, so do your job and find me something I can work with!"

After Azul's...outburst shall he say, and their discovery that the Prefect did actually pop out of nowhere, Jade has held it over his head quite smugly.

He wasn't so smug anymore, though, not when he was so invested in getting your heart and keeping it all to himself. Hard to do when there was little to no information about you.

Here's what Jade did know:

You liked dancing, though you weren't particularly good at it. Same with singing.

Silver had taken to teaching you how to use a sword, and you were quite good at it.

You tend to split your meals with Grim, even when offered your own plate.

Sam's soda that Azul had acquired last year was your favorite drink. You also liked the milkshakes at the lounge, though you rarely got them.

You scare easily and are near incapable of scaring someone else.

You were reckless when it came to your friends, to the point that you've nearly died about 9 times since arriving to their world.

And, of course, there were the little things that Jade noticed. Like the way the color in your eyes brightened in the sun.

Or the way you picked at your nails when nervous.

And the way you purse your lips when you get confused.

Oh! He thought the way you chewed on your pen was awfully cute.

Ah, the way you looked at him sometimes with an embarrassed look was something he's come to memorize. He's memorized many of your various facial expressions...like the one you made when you caught him staring at you. Despite his best efforts.

It's like you knew he was thinking about you...

He also knew that you liked to hide your smile and laughter when either got too big, big enough to show your teeth and gums. Big enough to make you snort and cackle like a witch from one of those human children shows someone showed him once. He knew your laugh like the beat of his heart.

Jade knew a lot, and yet nothing at all about you. What was your family like? Friends back home? What did you study? What were you wanting to be? Did you have a pet? A partner?

Don't worry about the last question! He's just a bit curious about the company you keep is all.

In any case, your little group of friends throwing you your birthday party was the perfect excuse for him to delve into your personal life with a plausible excuse.

"I thought Grim would be doing the interview questions for them? It's all we're letting him do so we can throw the Prefect a decent party this time."

Most people remembered the 'party' that the group of five then freshmen tried throwing you. It was hastily put together, no white suit as traditionally provided for a first year's birthdays, and the cake was a pile of tuna cans that Grim placed several small candles on top of. Which promptly fell over, caught a window drape on fire, and nearly brought the whole of Ramshackle into a blaze.

It also wasn't your birthday at that time. (That at least is a piece of information he could get his hands on.)

Now Ortho was involved, and Jade wasn't positive if that decrease or increased the potential fire hazard.

"Last year he did, yes. However, since the new freshman have been taking residence in Ramshackle, they've taken over the yearbook duties."

Usually, Jade would be able to gather his intel with little to no help from others, especially considering most of the school logged their activities on their social medias by the minute. Plus, his father's “questionable” career provided him with ample access to private investigators and databases.

But when it came to you? He didn't have much of a choice other than to depend on others. How troublesome.

"Aspen offered to take over the interview along with his other party tasks, but the poor thing has been struggling to juggle all his duties at Ramshackle and in Octavinelle."

Lies. Aspen was doing perfectly well, but when Aspen complained rather loudly in the Mostro Lounge kitchen about having to do the interview, Jade was more than happy to offer to take all the tasks from him. No future payment or favor required.

Aspen, with pink cheeks and hearts in his eyes, was more than happy to hand all of his tasks over to Jade with little thought.

"Oh, I guess then…" Deuce looked back at Ace in the kitchen with Trey on a video call. Saying that he was attempting to make a cake would be generous.

"…You know what, it's fine. We got a lot going on here. But, uh, when you're asking the Prefect about their ideal party, the sort of presents they like, and the usual stuff, try to be discreet. It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Jade raised a brow in amusement. "Really? How did you manage to get them fitted for their birthday jacket? I imagine that would be hard to keep a surprise."

Ace turned around, cradling a bowl in one arm and waving a wooden spoon. Jade is positive he could hear Trey cry out at him to not wave the batter around.

"Epel told them that Vil wanted them to come by to that film festival we when to last year, and needed to measure them for it."

The ginger flinched at Trey's voice chastising him through the phone.

"Hey! You asked for my help now pay attention before you drop the entire bowl and have to start over!"

"Okay! Okay! Jeez, you're almost as bad as Riddle when it comes to baking…" Ace grumbled, scrunching his nose like a child being scolded by his parents.

Jade withheld an amused snort at the thought, turning back around to Deuce to give him a polite nod and smile.

"Well then, it seems that you both have your work cut out for you. I'll leave you to it then."

Turning to leave, Jade ignored Deuce 'whispering' to Ace.

"Are we sure he should be asking them all these questions? You know how they'll probably get…"

Their voices faded out as he left Heartslabyul's kitchen, out the lounge, and to the entrance. He had previously been joined by Floyd, but his brother took off to find his favorite person entertainment.

Based on the rising voice of Riddle somewhere off in the rose maze, Floyd was successful.

Now, it was his turn to find his own favorite person.

You weren't hard to find, just follow the loud direbeast's noises, and you were bound to be there. It also helped that Jade had memorized your weekly schedule.

They should be finishing up their flight class soon, so I'll check the fields first.

It wasn't a particular trek, but it was a bit a walk from the Hall of Mirrors. Though, with how vast the campus was, it was expected.

Maybe he can stop at Sam's to grab a nice cold water to offer you. After all, he needs to demonstrate just how caring and dependable he is for you, and he'll start digging his place in to your heart!

Though, it seems that you were ahead of schedule, currently making your way to Ramshackle. Limping, even.

Oh dear, did you get hurt my pearl! I hope you're alright.

Like always, you seemed to sense him before he could even process your presence.

Those pretty, mesmerizing eyes widened, blinking at him with a piercing stare.

"Jade, hey, what are you doing here?"

Jade had to keep himself from running towards you like he wanted, instead taking a leisurely pace as you jogged towards him.

"Hello Prefect," My darling pearl~ "What a coincidence, I was just on my way to see you."

You gave him a knowing smile, eyes squinting as you did.

"Birthday, right?"

"Oh? And here I thought it was a secret~"

You snorted, covering your mouth to cover your grin. Cute.

"I have my...ways!" You looked to the side, pursing your lips before looking back at him. "But I'm guessing you got wrapped up in helping somehow?"

Again, that look, like you already knew the answer to your own question.

"Yes, I offered to help get a list of important party preferences for your friends. I do believe Deuce in particular is worried about your gift preferences."

Personally, I think the sea glass ring I had commissioned is going to be your favorite. But I'd rather exchange the gift privately, more intimately...cherish your reaction.

The thought of you, looking at him completely dazzled and struck by his confession was a fond thought. To finally make you his and his alone would be a dream. He just needed to know your idea date, which is what this little mission of his could help with.

"You know Jade, you don't have to find an excuse to find things out about me." Jade blinked, feeling himself warm up under your gaze.

How do you always...

"Oh?" Jade chuckled, hiding his smile behind a fist. "Did I give off that impression? I'm simply providing my assistance to those in need."

You rolled your eyes, pausing as you made eye contact with him and looked at your feet in embarrassment.

"No you don't—I mean not intentionally—I can just tell..." Jade let his smile soften into something more fond as he watched you stumble over your words.

"It's alright, I am always curious." And you just happen to be a strong topic of interest. "There is very little known about you, are you aware that you didn't have a student file up until a few months ago?"

Squinting your eyes at him in suspicion, you poked an accusatory finger into his chest.

"And why do you know that? I thought Azul didn't need you to dig up dirt on anyone since last fall."

Placing a hand on his chest, Jade pouted. "That's rather harsh little pearl, I prefer the term 'conducting research', it sounds much nicer. Besides..."

Jade couldn't help but give you a smug smirk, curling his finger for you to come closer. Hesitating, you leaned in on your tiptoes as he leaned down. His gray strand brushed against your cheek as he heard you take in a sudden breath.

In a soft, low, almost heady voice, he whispered, "...you're just something I'm particularly interested in. I want to know you inside and out~"

Oh, how he delighted in seeing you fumble back and clasp your hands together in a fluster. Though, from the heat in his cheeks, he's probably no better off right now.

Covering your lower face in your hand, Jade could just barely make out your muttering.

"When did you get so direct..."

As quickly as he got that sweet reaction, you straightened up and smiled at him.

"Well, as long as your helping the others, I can give you my free time." You gestured for Jade to follow you to your dorm, swinging your arms as you walked.

Before you even made a few feet, you stopped and turned back to Jade with a shy expression.

"Um...but you don't need an excuse to go out or anything like that." Jade felt an electric shock fly up his spine as you gingerly reached for his right hand.

Your thumb rubbed over his hand in a tender gesture, like you were trying relax him as the tingling sensations and the rapid beating of his heart increased.

"I'd like to be with—or, I mean, be around you more." You looked like you were burning up with embarrassment, while he rejoiced internally.

YES YES YES! I want to be with you! I want you, let me have you! You will won't you?

"...Of course, I'd like that too." Jade brought the hand holding his up to his lips, barely brushing the skin with a kiss. "I'm more than happy to indulge my whims, why not take advantage of you offering?"

You both made eye contact, staring into each other as if waiting for the other to make a move.

Gods, I love you...

It didn't take long for you to jerk your hand back, looking up at him with a like he just confessed his love and offered his soul to you.

He didn't say that out loud...right?

"Um, let's head to Ramshackle to talk." You turned back around and started quickly walking, leaving Jade to catch up to you, though with his legs it wasn't hard. "I wanna get out of my uniform..."

I could help with that~

"I'll just change into something really baggy! Nice and comfy!" You let out a nervous laugh as you continued walking.

Makes for easier access~

He wasn't sure what was in your way, but somehow you managed to trip over air and smack into the ground.

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[gudaho]

I am also of the opinion that Laios didn't just gather the best and greatest, but that his leadership taught each member to hone their skills and talents. One of Laios' most important characteristics as a leader is his attention to detail, he is constantly observing his companion's abilities and interests. This is one of the reasons that he wasn't surprised when Marcille turned out to be an expert in forbidden magic. He noticed that she didn't have tacit skills in general magic and performed it textbook style- leading him to assume that her specialty was in another area.

Being around Laios will inform someone about their practical strengths and weaknesses. Shuro leaves the Touden party but when we see him again, he still plays the role of 'strong finisher' in battles. We don't know much about Shuro's past but we do know that when Laios describes how the team took on dragons, Shuro would land the final blow because he was strong and precise.

Laios also considers the limitations of his team, like when he goes out of his way to avoid fights and using small magic 'shortcuts' because he knows Marcille needs time to recover her MP. His team would progress faster if they relied on Marcille's magic but they wouldn't be able to venture as far down.

Namari's weaponry and metal knowledge is taken at face-value by Laios and Chilchuck. But Laios takes it a step further when he trusts her to use a weapon she has never fired before- when she might misfire and injury Laios or another captured companion. This trust in a persons ability is why Namari can say with her full chest that no one knows weapons like she does- Laios gives her the opportunity to prove it.

Joining the Touden party didn't mean that the individual was already a Dungeon Smashing Machine, it meant that they would be guided to a niche that they flourish in

[gatorbites-imagines]

Whitebeard fucker here lol I’ve been summoned. Could you write something with a reader whose used to being the biggest guy around meeting whitebeard and going “ohhh” and wanting to climb that man like a tree? Any and all kinks are up to your choosing monsieur gator!! Also happy birthday man!

Edward “Whitebeard” Newgate x male reader

Headcanons

Bit my lip so fucking hard when I saw this request. Whitebeard enjoyers come assemble!

Thanks for the birthday wish :) I ended up getting a lot of comics and manga, so I’m very happy.

Reader possesses a devil fruit I made up I call the sun-sun Fruit. Hes also like 16 ft 9. Hes also at least 40+ years old. Old man yaoi.

You had known of Whitebeards existence ever since you started traveling the sea, who didn’t? The guy was a legend known as the strongest man alive, someone to avoid if you did the type of business you did.

You were a bit of an everything man. Information gathering, Intimidation, bodyguarding, assassin, anything that paid you a lot and you didn’t have to hurt the innocent, Youd do it.

The world government were cautious of you, but always let you get away with things others wouldn’t, as you also took jobs for them if need be. You played on every board, siding with pirates, with marines, with the poor, and with the rich. As long as they had good reason for asking for your help.

Your Sun-Sun fruit always helped with this as well, making you an extremely powerful fighter, possessing the ability to gather and store solar energy and light itself. After mastering it you could easily create explosions big enough to destroy islands, coat your body in solar energy, or coat your weapons, as well as many other things.

Your preferred weapon were spears, your most beloved weapon a naginata that had been gifted to you after a job well done, some celestial who fanboyed over pirates wanting to give you a big reward. The naginata was supposedly cursed, but you two got along a little too well most days.

All in all, you were well known in your own circles, but nowhere near as much as someone like Whitebeard.

That was also the reason you turned down your latest request to kill Whitebeard. You might have been strong, but you were never an idiot. You might have stood at almost 17 feet, towering over anyone you had ever met, but even you know Whitebeards crew was so loyal it was lethal.

The people giving you the request has been annoyed about you rejecting it, but they could do nothing to stop you as you left, on your way to the next island. There was never a destination in mind if you didn’t have a contract, so you just called it joy sailing.

It was mere coincidence that you found yourself sailing through Whitebeards territory. You had no need for a crew, as you had mastered the skill to create stand-ins with your sun-sun fruit, creating human shaped beings out of condensed solar energy.

The ship you traveled in wasn’t too big either, especially compared to the moby dick. But they had easily spotted you, and your “crew” had spotted them in return. For some reason the whitebeard crew were interested in you, though their interest made your heartrate skyrocket as the moby dick neared your own much smaller ship.

When it became clear they weren’t there to fight, you agreed to link up your ships, even if it was just because you knew they could end you before you would be able to run for it.

Stepping onto the ship, part of you was curious at their lack of reaction to your towering height, even as they had to turn their heads all the way back to look at you to ask questions about your “light crew”, or one of them demanding to know what your favorite food was, or where you got your naginata.

When you finally met Whitebeard though, it all made sense. The guy made even you feel small, even though he wasn’t towering over you the same way you were the rest of his crew. Maybe it was his presence, as he laughed and patted you on the back, greeting you by the nickname the masses called you.

But all you could think about was how seeing someone taller than you made you feel. Just feeling his large hand patting your shoulder, or seeing how he was still taller than you when you sat, was enough for you to think about booking it again.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you stuck around with the Whitebeard crew for a while. To the point where they started acting like you were part of the crew. Even when you tried to turn it down, they’d just give you a knowing look before ignoring your complaints.

In your opinion, you were too old to join someone’s crew, especially with you being known as a “backstabber”, as you never picked one specific side.

And yeah, you knew why you were sticking around for so long. It was all Whitebeard, and that weird, fluttering feeling he gave you, and the arousal he caused, but that was not as important…for the most part.

It was only after the crew had settled on the island to restock that you thought about leaving for real. One of your contacts had called you on your den den mushi, and told you about a very high paying job. You might have been so rich your ancestors would live in luxury, but you could never get enough.

Unluckily for you, Whitebeard had overheard the call. He had looked sad about you wanting to leave, but had invited you to join him for a drink before you packed up and went on your way.

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside him in front of a bonfire, just the two of you, both of you decently buzzed and flushed. Your devil fruit power made you mostly immune to alcohol, the heat of the sun burning the alcohol away before it could work, but whatever stuff Whitebeard had on him seemed to have the right kick.

Later you would blame the alcohol for your reaction when Whitebeards hand settled on your lower back. You had abandoned your jacket a while ago, some of Whitebeards crew running off with it to use it for some drunk game they were playing.

Your devil fruit also worked best without too much clothes in the way, meaning Whitebeards hand was right on your back, and your thirsty self had arched into it with a soft groan, your head flopping to the side to rest against him.

Whitebeard had chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual loud guffaw, but something deeper and smoother, like melted dark chocolate or the best whiskey you had ever drank.

His hand had rubbed and massaged your back until you felt like putty, small sparks of light and solar energy flickering across your torso as your control slipped, Whitebeard huffing amusedly at the small jolts it sent through his arm.

You would blush in the future when thinking about it, denying it ever happened, before blaming the alcohol once more. But in that moment, it was impossible to not spill all the thoughts you had about him. How he made you feel so hot inside, how much you fantasied about him, his hands, his height, his cock.

Whitebeard had seemed almost charmed, and maybe he was. It wasn’t every day that someone his age and especially his size had someone fawning over them. Maybe that was why he pulled you into his lap, with your back resting against his chest, as his battle worn hands traveled across the front of your torso.

He murmured and purred into your ears as one of his large, calloused hands groped and pinched at one of your pecs, making you gasp and arch into the touch, legs jolting until his other hand came down to hold your thigh in place.

The praise falling from his lips had you feeling much drunker than you were, vision blurring for a second before you were able to focus again, your own hands grasping at his pantleg as you huffed out a breath.

The veins across your body lit up every now and then from the stored solar energy in your body flickering, causing Whitebeard to chuckle that deep chuckle once more, making some comment about that being a nice party trick.

You were about to snap back a rebuttal, something rude about his own devil fruit power, but before the words could even leave you, the hand gripping your thick slid under your waistband.

Embarrassment flooded your system as you keened, head falling back onto his chest as your hips jolted. And how crazy was that? He was so tall your head fall onto his chest, not his shoulder, not above his own head, his chest.

It had your throbbing even more, immediately coating his palm in a layer of precum, making Whitebeard tsk teasingly, before rubbing the palm against the head of your sensitive shaft, only making you drip even more.

What could you say. You were sensitive. Being your size made it pretty hard to find a partner who could keep up with you, or someone you wouldn’t hurt on accident. And as your fame grew, less and less individuals even wanted to give it a try.

That was why you were keening and whimpering in Whitebeards lap like some kind of virgin, at least that’s what you told yourself to keep your dignity.

It didn’t explain the way you jolted and spilled into his hand when Whitebeard grabbing your chin, turning your head so he could kiss you. Your eyes rolled back, and solar energy flashed across your body as you came, gasping into his mouth, your breath so hot It would have harmed anyone not as sturdy as Whitebeard.

With his lips still pressed against yours he mumbled praise, telling you stuff that had you melting even further into his embrace, hips still jolting and twitching into his hand like you didn’t want it to end.

As you rolled your hips you could feel his own erection, and you almost wanted to pass out from just how big he felt. You had never met anyone who was bigger than you in that way, yet here Whitebeard was, pretty much offering it to you on a silver platter.

The night was spent with Whitebeard wringing more than just a couple of orgasms out of you, at some point leaving you so overstimulated and pleasured that your body had phased out, turning into solar energy.

Whitebeard had cackled loudly at the sight, seeing how you were in so much pleasure you couldn’t even stay solid. When you finally came back to yourself, he placed a big kiss on your cheek and then your mouth, making some teasing comment about it all.

The next morning you couldn’t look his crew in the eye, the knowing looks boring into your large broad back, that for once was wearing a shirt, to cover most of the hickeys their captain had left on you.

And if you just so happened to turn down the job offer your informant gave you, and if you just so happened to attach your ship to their fleet, and you just so happened to start being referred to in the same parental way as Whitebeard, who would be the wiser.

You honestly had no idea how to react when Whitebeards, and you guessed now your, crew started referring to you with a fatherly title in the same way they called Whitebeard Pops. You hadn’t wanted to be open about your relationship with Whitebeard, but to the crew it was so damn obvious.

Even when you and Whitebeard became official, and maybe even married at some point, you still took jobs every now and then, never getting enough of the thrill of money. But it was a lot less, and you pretty much cut all contact with the world government.

Sure, that got you a bounty and a high reward, but you honestly couldn’t care. After all this time you realized, maybe a crew wasn’t so bad. It also helped to have a partner that made you feel safe and cared for, whilst also leaving you limping in the best possible way.

[pinchofhoney]

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

[the-lavender-clown]

MORE COWBOY AU STUFF BECAUSE I’M OBSESSED!!! The au I’ve made with some friends is called Fool’s Gold! I may or may not write some fics for it 👀

Here’s an infodump on it if anyone is interested!!

Raph is tired sheriff who sighs at every newspaper & new wanted poster showing off his blue and purple brothers as well as Donnie’s partner in crime but a he can’t help but be a little proud because he knows their doing good, just in their own special & questionable way.

Mikey is a nomad that travels around & sells self-woven clothes and blankets as well as hand carved & painted trinkets or whatever else he’s made. He treats weary travelers to home cooked meals & tales & legends of four brothers! He’s also the only brother not *constantly* making trouble for Raph.

Leo is a lone hero. Going town to town & over throwing whatever greedy mayor/banker/outlaw has that town in its clutches. He’s able to masterfully manipulate whoever he’s dealing with & using his many resources to gather important information. He ties them up to a post for the sheriff’s convenience when he comes by the town to pick them up.

Donnie & Cass are bounty hunters/mercenaries. They used to chase each other for their bounties & because Cass was a part of the Foot before the brothers took them down & Donnie just so happens to often be the closest to her trail once she popped up again. After awhile of constantly failing to catch each other they started thinking of each other as *their* targets & everyone knew better than to try and catch the other. A fun little song & dance/game of cat & mouse if you will. Eventually they ended up having to run from the same person together & realized that they honestly make a good team & have stuck together ever since!

Shelldon is adopted by Donnie before he & Cass teamed up. He was told by the Purple Dragons to get close to Donnie so they could catch him in exchange for enough money to set him for life, money they had no intention on giving him. He did get close to Donnie but in the end didn’t want to betray him but the Dragons had accounted for that & set off an explosion in a mining tunnel to get rid of them both. Donnie ended up being able to get Shelldon a little clear of the crumbling tunnel before he was trapped under the rumble. Shelldon doesn’t want to leave him but eventually does & immediately goes to try to find help, coming across Leo who had found Donnie’s spooked horse & was trying to find out what trouble Donnie had gotten himself into since his horse never leaves unless something really bad happened. Donnie ends up losing a leg cuz is it truly an F!Donnie if he doesn’t?

Casey is adopted after Donnie & Cass team up. They were in town for some groceries when Raph told them about this kid in some not so great circumstances & said it’d be a shame if someone were to beat up his guardians & kidn@p him while he was busy with all this paperwork. Donnie & Cass were gone before he finished. They weren’t gonna pass up an opportunity where they had permission to do a crime after all!

The main difference between Leo & Donnie’s work is that Donnie always cashes in the bad guys for money & can be hired for jobs as well as uses semi lethal methods while Leo mainly does it for fun & justice (& to mess with Raph) & takes like a free drink as payment before moving on. Leo will leave notes on the bad guys for Raph for when he comes to pick them up.

“The Bread Winners” is the name of Donnie, Casey, Shelldon, & Junior’s gang because Casey’s brownie scouts & my Donnie baker hc. It also shows that they’re in it for the money & fits with how the go undercover as a family often. Plus it sounds innocent enough to disguise how insane they really are.

That is it for now!! Hope some of y’all like it!!

Here’s the drawing without the text in the middle

[hxney-lemcn]

Lovefool — Connor x gn! reader

summery: Connor tries to impress you, and it works <3

tw: none

a/n: Guys, the fav artist I mention might be a reference to Will Wood, no I won't shut up about him.

wc: 0.6k

Master List

It was a passing comment, something you didn’t think twice about. You were rambling to your friend, Connor, about some of your favorite songs and artists. Even before his deviancy he’d come to you with questions. At the time, you seemed to be one of the only people to treat him with some basic human decency, and a friendship was born. And you found someone you could finally ramble to, as when you’d bring something up, Connor would question it and you’d fall into the ramblings of topics you love. 

This time, it was about one of your favorite artists, and the reason why you believed you loved their music so much was because he played piano. And then that fell into you realizing that you found people who play piano were hot. You didn’t even notice the intense stare Connor held, or how his led spun yellow at the information. Just continued to talk about how much you loved that one musician.

You really didn’t think Connor would take that comment to heart. That he’d download programs that would teach him how to play the piano. Then proceed to learn a few pieces of music, some classical, some from your favorite artist. 

So when you walked through the mall with Connor by your side, you didn’t really question anything. Looking through windows to see if you were interested in anything. Occasionally asking Connor if he found anything, secretly wanting to buy him something. You stopped, watching as a piano played itself. People and androids alike walked past, not taking a second glance, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the waltz that was currently playing. You followed Connor curiously as he took a seat at the bench before the piano. 

“You know how to play?” You asked, watching intently as his fingers rested over the piano keys. His synthetic skin pulled away from his hands as he interfaced with the piano, and the waltz stopped playing. 

“Yes,” Connor nodded, glancing at me. “This will be my first time playing though.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, the familiar sound of your favorite song started playing. You felt your heart rate increase. You didn’t want to assume…but it was pretty hard not to. Why did he learn to play piano? And he said this was his first time playing, and it just happened to be a song from the artist you were gushing about not too long ago…

Oh…

You felt your heart stutter. Was this something to do with your offhand comment? That you found people who play piano to be attractive? You watched as his fingers brushed over the ivory keys, skillfully playing a tune you knew by heart. 

So far your theory wasn’t wrong. But this perhaps may be a bit of a cheat since you found Connor attractive from the beginning. You watched as his eyes stared at the nonexistent music sheets, perhaps he can view it with his HUD. You felt entranced as he continued to…serenade you? Was that the right term? Well, if that’s what he was out to do it was working real well. 

When he finished the last note, I clapped as loud as I could, cheering for him. I didn’t even realize the small crowd that gathered until they applauded with me.

“That was amazing Connor!” I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around his back as he tried to look at me. “Why the sudden interest?” You just wanted to make sure your conclusion was correct. 

“I, uh, you mentioned you found people who played the piano to be intriguing,” Connor slightly stuttered. 

You couldn’t stop the smirk that fit over your lips as you sat next to Connor, his eyes boring through your own, “I think I said a bit more than that.” You admired the blue tint that worked over Connor’s cheeks, the cool color contrasting well against his pale freckled skin. 

“Are you…” Connor trailed, unable to finish his question. A part of you wanted to play innocent, make him finish the question. But you decided to be merciful today.

“Yes,” You replied, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek.

[newtthetranswriter]

Could I request Gojo x male reader where the reader is a ballet dancer who is a part of the Zenin clan but ran away when they were in high school and Gojo doesn't see him again till adulthood and Gojo falls in love all over again and reader never stopped being in love and they reconnect

Dancing with Curses

Word Count: 3822

Paring: Satoru Gojo x male Zenin Reader

Warning: talks of Gojo’s past arc, the Zenin clan is trash, Canon typical violence, possibly ooc Gojo, let me know if I missed anything

A/n: Hello again, I truly did enjoy writing all of your requests. They gave me just enough information to feel free with creating the story but still having a base to work off of. Anyway I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

    Y/n Zenin may have been lucky enough to be born with a decent cursed technique but the fact that he had made it clear he was not interested in following the tradition of being a sorcerer, made it so he was looked down upon by the whole clan. For years he tried to fight the system but as the time for high school approached, Y/n was forced to make a choice. He decided that he would follow his family's wishes for just long enough to get enough money to escape the world he grew up in. For him going to Jujutsu High was just a stepping stone to reach his goal, he never expected to add another item to the list of things his family hated him for.

   As previously mentioned, Y/n just wanted to save enough money to escape from the world of Jujutsu, he never planned to catch the eyes of Satoru Gojo. Apparently Gojo had been enamored with how graceful Y/n was with his technique and how he was able to mix Jujutsu with ballet seamlessly.  Y/n on the other hand had felt Gojo’s eyes on him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the beauty in the user of the six eyes. But Y/n knew that if he let himself fall or grow attached he would be further trapped in this dark world. So Y/n put his emotions in a box and distanced himself.

   Finally after almost three years of dealing with the chaos and horrors of the world Y/n left. Having one of his underclassmen die in the line of duty, followed by one of his classmates turning against them, Y/n was done. He couldn’t handle the thought of spending anymore time watching people die for no reason, or seeing people who were once all about protecting turning to murder. So he gathered his belongings and left in the middle of the night. Leaving the world of Jujutsu behind, almost completely. 

   Being an outcast from a young age Y/n knew the signs of the Zenins pushing kids out of the inner circle. And even if it was still early and there were a few years left for her technique to develop, Y/n had a gut feeling Maki would need someone on her side. So before he completely wrote off the Zenin clan, he wrote Maki a letter. The girl was barely 4 but was able to understand the simple contents of the letter. Y/n had simply explained that he was always there for her if she needed anything and asked her to not share the existence of the letter with anyone. He also left his new phone number, telling her to call if she ever needed anything. After leaving the letter with his young cousin he left.

   When it became clear to the Zenin clan as a whole that Y/n had up and ran away, they decided to act like he never existed. Writing his disappearance off as a blessing to not have to deal with him ever again. While most of the Jujutsu world moved on from the sudden loss, Satoru was unable to follow their lead. He spent the better part of five years looking for him. Unfortunately for him, Y/n did not want to be found and managed to hide himself well. Satoru eventually gave up.

  Fast forward eleven years, and Y/n had put very little thought into the world he left behind. He took his freedom and did what he wanted. He became a professional dancer, letting his worries wash away. It was a relief to not think about death and curses everyday. But alas all good things come to an end at some point.

  After a particularly tiring performance Y/n felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Seeing that the id indicated it was the one person he kept in touch with, he answered. “Hey, Maki what’s up? Is everything ok?” He asked, concerned. Even though Maki was only four when she got the letter from Y/n she respected his wishes and managed to keep it secret all these years. The reason Y/n became concerned was that when Maki got a phone they agreed she would only call if something was seriously wrong, otherwise she would text monthly just to check in.

  The calm teen’s response nearly startled the man. “I know you said you would never return to Jujutsu High, but we need all the help we can get.” Maki explained, there was a hint of worry in her voice and Y/n knew that something was seriously wrong if Maki was asking him to come back. Before Y/n could ask for more information, Maki continued. “Some crazy guy declared war on Jujutsu Society and even though we have Gojo on our side everyone seems worried. There has been an influx of Sorcerers on campus and even Gojo seems concerned. I normally wouldn’t ask for you to come back but if Gojo is worried wouldn’t that mean having all hands on deck be the best course of action.” 

  Y/n took a moment to think about what Maki had told him. If someone declared war on Jujutsu Society then no big deal, curse users are stupid. But if said person had Gojo worried about it then there was only one person who could be leading this fight. Knowing that fact led Y/n to make a choice he never thought he would. “If it’s bad enough for Gojo to be worried, then having as many sorcerers as possible is a good idea. I’ll be there in the morning.” He knew he would likely regret going back to his old life but he knew the reality, it’s almost impossible to leave the Jujutsu world and stay gone.

   “Thank you, I know you hate all of this but I’m sure you’ll be able to leave again when everything is done.” With that Y/n said a quick goodbye and hung up the phone. If he was really going to be returning to Jujutsu Society, he knew there was a very slim chance of ever getting out again, that is if he even managed to survive the impending war. 

   The next day as he promised Maki, he made his way to Tokyo. When he reached the path leading to the hidden highschool, he paused. Debating actually entering the barrier that protected the school and alerting everyone of his presence or just turning around and telling Maki he couldn’t help out. But before he could chicken out and run away again, he felt the presence of familiar cursed energy. Looking up at the stairs that would seal his fate of being part of this fight stood the one person he hoped he could avoid, Satoru Gojo.

   It was clear that Gojo had changed since Y/n last saw him, having swapped out his usual dark sunglasses for white badges wrapped around his eyes, his hair was also longer and stood up with makeshift blindfold in place. Seeing the white haired male sent feelings Y/n had long suppressed bubbling to the surface.

   It wasn’t any better for the Strongest Sorcerer. He couldn’t believe his eyes, even if he knew that his cursed technique is never wrong, his heart had a hard time believing that the Y/n Zenin was standing in front of him. Gojo had so many questions, like why did he run away, why didn’t he say anything, and most of all why is he back. Snapping out of his thoughts, Gojo moved down the stairs quickly, taking two at a time with ease thanks to his long legs.

  “What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended, but with recent events and the bubbling of long forgotten feelings, Gojo couldn’t help it.

  Shaking his head to clear the fog, Y/n took in the tall man in front of him. “Well hello to you, Gojo. For the record I’m only here because Maki said that someone declared war and it had even you worried. And knowing you only one person could make you worried about a silly threat. So here I am, isn’t better to have extra hands on bored than facing Geto with fewer people.” Y/n answered, accidentally letting it slip that Maki had been able to contact him all this time. “Now that I’m here, would you mind telling me what exactly Geto is planning.”

   Ignoring the request for information about the situation, Gojo focused more on the mention of his student. “Since when has Maki been able to contact you, she was like four when you left. Why would she call you for help?” When Y/n had left after the worry of what happened had passed, Gojo had been angry, and now that anger was showing itself all over again.

   “Yes Gojo, Maki was four when I left. But you forget I was also raised in the hell scape that is the Zenin house. I also know what it looks like when those douchebags start making a child an outcast. When I left I gave her my phone number and told her if she needed me she could call. And you would never guess what happened. She saw that her teacher was worried over some psychopath declaring war on the people she cares about and called someone she trusts to ask for help. I’m not here for anyone but her.” Y/n clarified, and it was clear from his tone that he truly meant it. He was only coming back to the world of curses to help his young cousin. Not giving Gojo a chance to respond, Y/n brushed past him heading up the steps into the base of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

    Gojo was left stunned by his own stupidity. The only guy he can remember ever truly having feelings for was right in front of him, and instead of expressing his joy of seeing him again he stuck his foot in his mouth. Watching after Y/n as he left, Gojo began thinking of ways to apologize for what just happened and ways to hopefully convince Y/n to stay even after they beat Geto.

   On December 24th, Y/n opted to stay at Jujutsu High with Maki and Yuta as a line of defense just in case. Afterall he wasn’t technically a member of Jujutsu Society so it’s not like the Higher ups could actually tell him what to do. He also had a bad feeling about them sending everyone except a couple Assistant supervisors to the front lines. If Geto had asked Yuta to join his cause wouldn’t that mean he had an interest in the boy. So when the veil was lowered over the school, Y/n jumped into action.

    He knew he didn’t stand much chance against a special grade like Geto, but he couldn’t just let the lunatic kill a young sorcerer. Y/n’s technique had only earned him the status of Grade 1 back in highschool, but that was eleven years ago and this would be his first fight since he left. He could only hope he still had the strength to hold off the Curse User long enough for help to arrive. 

   His own fight with Geto didn’t last long before a new contender entered the courtyard where the two adults were exchanging blows. Having also noticed the veil, Maki opted to join the fight. So now it was two on one, the two Zenin outcasts vs. the special grade Suguru Geto. The cousins were able to hold off Geto for about thirty minutes before Geto got the upper hand. The younger of the two had been severely injured, having likely multiple broken bones and severe cuts leaving her half conscious in a pool of her own blood. The older of the two was not much better off. Y/n had sustained a few broken ribs, one of which he wouldn’t be surprised to find out if it was digging into his lung as it was becoming difficult to breathe. But he was still able to stand and so he was still able to fight.

  There was a brief moment that allowed Y/n to catch his breath, and that was when Geto paused, announcing a hole was made in the barrier. He seemed confident enough that whoever it was would be too slow and he could beat Y/n and take Yuta before they arrived. Y/n took in a few deep breaths, sensing the cursed energy of two people approaching fast. Seeing that Geto wasn’t reacting to it, Y/n waited until the wall exploded next to the long haired man before striking again.

  Unfortunately even with the added help of Panda and Toge, they were still unable to beat him. When they turned their backs on Geto to check on Maki, the curse user took the chance to take out the oldest of the group. Striking Y/n in the back with curse, Geto managed to force the broken rib that was already threatening to puncture one of his lungs right through said lung. The force of the blow knocked what little air Y/n had in his chest out, and now with the loss of function in one of his lungs it was nearly impossible for Y/n to catch his breath. The two first years who were still able to fight tried to fight back but were unsuccessful.

  Y/n fought to stay awake and even tried to warn Yuta who had appeared on the scene to run away, but alas with barely any oxygen getting into his body, he could barely make a sound. He was fading in and out of consciousness and couldn’t help but wish for Shoko to be there to heal his wounds. Slowly suffocating was really fucking painfull. The last thing he remembered before blacking out completely was Yuta using Rika to move the four injured sorcerers to safety and applying his own reversed curse technique to them. As the world faded Y/n silently thanked Gojo for not executing the young special grade.

   Unlike the other three who woke up soon after Yuta beat Geto, Y/n was still unconscious three days later. While Yuta had been able to heal the majority of the injuries y/n had sustained, it seemed Shoko was needed for some of the more intense ones. When word got to Gojo that Y/n was injured and that even after Shoko had been able to treat his wounds was still asleep, Gojo was worried. He spent as much time as he could spare sitting by his bed in the infirmary. 

   Gojo spent the time thinking. Debating on how to thank Y/n for risking his life for the young sorcerers and trying to decide if it would be a good time to tell him he loved him. Yeah Gojo had officially decided that he loved Y/n Zenin, it wasn’t just a school crush. Having spent eleven years apart and suddenly seeing him again reminded him of everything he loved about Y/n. Even though he admitted to himself that he loved him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe telling him would be a curse to the man who clearly just wanted to escape the world of Jujutsu. 

   Caught up in his own reminiscing, he failed to notice that Y/n had started to wake up. He only noticed when he heard the quiet groan from next to him. Looking over he could see Y/n squinting his eyes at the light from the open window, and trying to take in his surroundings while still laying flat on the bed. Gojo quickly stood up, closing the blinds to darken the room, and then moved to help Y/n sit up. “Here let me help you sit up.” He said, causing Y/n to look at him bewildered. “I know I was rude the last time we talked but I was worried when they said you still didn’t wake up after both Yuta and Shoko used rct on you.” Gojo explained quickly.

   Taking a moment to process the words said to him, Y/n looked around the room. Seeing a glass of water on the bed side table, he quickly took a drink before speaking. “How long have I been asleep? And what happened to the kids, is everyone okay?” He wasn’t that worried about himself, his main concern was whether or not the young sorcerers had made it out of the battle alive.

   “Everyone is fine. Well, everyone on our side, that is, the kids are all okay. They’re taking a few days to relax before getting back to training. As for how long you were asleep for, well it's been about three days.” Gojo informed him. “And before you ask, Geto won’t be a problem anymore.” His tone of voice shifted from glad to something lingering with sadness.

  Picking up on the change of tone Y/n understood what he was implying. “I’m sorry for your loss, I know you were really close before everything. But it’s great to hear that the kids are okay.” He said truthfully. Taking a moment to think of what to say next, one thing popped into his mind and he couldn’t shake it. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you have some important mission that only the Strongest can deal with?” Y/n asked, trying to switch the subject.

   Having spent three days thinking over and planning for how to speak his mind didn’t prepare him for what he was going to say.  “Um, I just wanted to express my thanks for you risking your life to protect the first years. If you hadn’t decided to show up or stay behind while we all went to the front line, who knows what would have happened to those four. I mean sure Panda probably would have been ok, but the others might not have been so lucky.” Gojo thanked him. 

   Y/n nodded along, but that didn’t fully answer his question. Gojo was there when he woke up, if he just wanted to say thank you then he could have done it after someone else told him Y/n was awake. “I think they would have been just fine. Maki is a strong fighter and Toge has a great understanding of his technique. And Yuta has a surprisingly great understanding of cursed energy for someone who just learned about curses a few months ago. But the strength of your students aside, Why are you here? And don’t say it’s just to say thank you. You were here when I woke up, if you just wanted to thank me then you could have gone about your day and then thanked me when someone told you I was awake.” He confronted the white haired male.

   Gojo scratched the back of his head trying to decide if he should say he just happened to stop by to check on him right before he woke, or if he should tell Y/n the truth. Realizing he had been quiet for too long and that if he did lie Shoko would probably rat him out either way, he came to the conclusion that honesty was the best policy. “Well, I’ve kinda been here the whole time. Like I said before I was really worried when Shoko told me you hadn’t woken up after being treated. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained. Watching as Y/n’s face shifted from confusion to shock, Gojo couldn’t stop himself from talking more. “And I know this is probably a terrible time to bring this up, especially with how I reacted when you showed up the other day. But I really care about you Y/n. When you left back in highschool, I thought something terrible happened to you and I searched for you for years. I eventually figured that if you went through the struggle of leaving with out a trace there was probably a reason and so I stopped looking. But the worry turned to hurt and anger and I guess seeing you suddenly and hearing that you only came back for Maki’s sake, made that anger bubble up again. I understand you left for a reason and you probably want to leave as soon as possible after all this life is hell for anyone. But I do want you to know that you mean a lot to me.” This was the first time Y/n had seen or heard of Gojo letting his emotions out in such a clear way. Gojo was always calm and only really expressed deep emotions when fighting or teaching, so having him say all of that really shocked Y/n.

   Y/n took a few moments to process everything Gojo said, before making the second life changing decision of the month. “While I left because this life is taxing and full of hardship, I don’t know if I can abandon it again. I wouldn’t mind sticking around and helping teach the next generation of sorcerers.” Y/n explained. “This isn’t a permanent situation though and I will have some requirements that need to be accepted before I commit to it. After all, I can't leave the ones I care about to fight alone if I’m able to lend a helping hand.” he finished making his intentions to at least stick around for a short while clear.

   Even though Gojo was happy to hear that Y/n was going to stick around, he was confused by the wording of the last sentence. “Wait you said ‘the ones’  you care about, I thought you came back for Maki.” He couldn’t help but ask.

   Y/n just laughed before responding. “You’re right I did come back for Maki. But there are more people here that I care about than just her. Now I may have just woken up from a three day nap, but I’m exhausted so if you don’t mind I’m going back to sleep.” With that Y/n layed back down rolling to face away from the tall sorcerer.

   “Who else do you care about here? I’m confused.” Gojo really wanted answers.

   Y/n responded even though he was half asleep. “That’s for me to know and for you to figure out Satoru.” And with that Gojo was left as the only one awake in the room.

   He sat in silence processing what he had been told. And when he registered that y/n had not called him Gojo but used his first name for the first time, he couldn’t hide his smile. Deciding to let Y/n rest in peace he left to inform everyone about Y/n’s decision to consider staying at Jujutsu high for a while.

[bosbas]

Chapter 7: something gave you the nerve to touch my hand

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, a small part of the dialogue is in Spanish, idiots in love-ish moments (maybe idiots in non-hate?)

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

June 1, 1816 – A few whispers have been floating around about Lord Arthur Barlow’s whereabouts following his escapade with Miss Barrington at the Bridgerton ball, but this author must sadly say that she has no credible information on the subject. The Duke has likely paid his staff handsomely to avoid any news reaching the curious ears of the ton, much to our disappointment. While propriety suggests that his wedding plans to Miss Barrington should be in full swing, Lord Barlow is not particularly known for his propriety, and therefore we cannot assume anything.

Among other Montclair-related news, two of the Count’s children arrived in London yesterday: Lord Philippe Montclair IV and Lady Isabelle de la Torre, accompanied by their respective spouses and children. Is this unexpected gathering somehow linked to Lady Y/N's recent entanglement in scandal, or is it merely a coincidental family reunion?

You wrung your hands nervously in your carriage bound for Hyde Park, not quite able to sit still. Beside you sat Leonor, Philippe's wife, while your sisters, sitting opposite from you, observed your anxious demeanor with growing impatience. Isabelle, in particular, seemed annoyed by your restless gestures, her irritation palpable in the air.

“Y/N, for heaven's sake, it’s not like you’ve been compromised in any way!” said Isabelle, exasperated. “You’ll find someone else, and the Duke’s betrayal will be but a distant memory.”

It was easy for her to say; after all, her own search for a husband had been nothing short of a fairy tale. Unlike the rest of your siblings, Isabelle had had a love match from the beginning, and it only made it easier that Carlos, her now-husband, had strong ties to the royal family. Though her love story had been one for the ages, the fact that it had happened so easily was making her quite unsympathetic to your loss of a Duke you weren’t even properly interested in. 

“I might as well have been! Lady Whistledown is still mentioning my involvement in the scandal, and your presence isn’t helping.” You thanked the universe that your mother was on another carriage with Louis, Carlos, and Philippe, and hadn’t heard you being rude toward your sister.

"And why should we care about the musings of this Lady Whistledown?" retorted Isabelle with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“These English people treat that gossip column like gospel,” said Charlotte, crinkling her nose in disdain. “Though I dare say, Y/N, your predicament isn't as dire as you're painting it," she added, casting you a knowing glance.

"You two can afford to be cavalier about it, being safely married," you sighed, feeling defeated, and turned your gaze back out the window.

As your carriage rolled into the park, Leonor leaned in, placing her hand over yours. “No te preocupes, cariño,” she whispered reassuringly, so only you could hear (Don’t worry, sweetheart). “En todo caso, te vienes a España con tu hermano y conmigo” (In any case, you can come to Spain with your brother and me).

You smiled at her, resigned, but grateful for her offer. As you surveyed the bustling crowd outside, predominantly comprised of eligible men, the allure of Spain beckoned. It would certainly have better weather than London. And at least there was no Lady Whistledown in Salamanca. Though with the seemingly endless sources the woman had, you wouldn’t doubt her abilities to follow you there, too.

Stepping down from your carriage and walking toward the crowd of people in the park, you made eye contact with one of the gentlemen who had called on you yesterday. Though his poem had nearly put you to sleep, you smiled politely anyway. Perhaps he would be the first to talk to you today and ask for a turn about the park, and you would be able to finally relax in the knowledge that at least one person was still interested in you.

Though you hadn’t seen or heard from Lord Barlow since the Bridgerton ball, he still lingered in your mind. He ended up being just like any other man, you thought, annoyed. You hadn’t necessarily expected him to be the picture of attentiveness and love, especially not when you had only known each other a little over a month, but it was still disappointing to see how it had all turned out. 

"Lady Montclair," a voice interjected, drawing your attention to your right. Startled, you turned to see Colin Bridgerton, sporting an uncharacteristically earnest smile.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” you inquired. 

You had thought your dance two nights prior had been a one-time event, a small courtesy on his part, for Eloise, so you didn’t look a complete fool upon your re-entry to society. So why was he here now? Had he come here to resume tormenting you? You weren’t quite sure you had the energy for that today, already feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you thought about how many men you would have to impress and the intense scrutiny you would face from the rest of the ton.

“Would you care for a promenade?” his voice, a gentle invitation, broke through your thoughts.

“A prom- What?” you said lowly, careful that no one would hear you. “You already danced with me once, and it was more than enough,” you assured him. 

Colin was fighting an internal battle. He was torn between still being absolutely enchanted by you after one dance, and the larger part of him that was annoyed that you apparently didn’t want to speak with him today. Yet, true to form, Colin’s more combative side won out.  

“Well, I don’t particularly see gentlemen lining up to speak with you today, so I rather think you might need some more help,” he shot back. 

You felt your face flush as you gasped in offense. “That is so patronizing. I’ve barely been here three seconds! I hardly think that amount of time is indicative of whether any suitors would like to speak with me today.”

It was true; Colin had rushed to greet you moments after you had stepped down from your carriage. But aside from the fact that he was embarrassed by his eagerness and trying to cover it up, he was not about to let up, not against you. 

“Do you think, for once in your life, you could engage with me without throwing a fit?” he asked you, anger seeping into his words. 

You were speechless, your eyes wide as you stared at him. Your instinct would have been to get mad at him, but unfortunately, he was right. You were struggling to let yourself be vulnerable with Colin, never mind how good of a time you had had dancing with him. But you were too stubborn to accept his offer to walk with him. You simply stared at him, your eyes swimming with uncertainty, and silently willed him to keep pushing you to accept his help. It was the only way you would allow yourself to do it, and you were relieved when he held out his arm for you to take.

“Come along,” he said, rolling his eyes. “For both our sakes, we should just walk to avoid a scene.”

“Very well, then,” you relented, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were momentarily distracted by the feeling of his arm beneath your touch. It lit a fire inside of you that you weren’t familiar with, and you suddenly found yourself out of breath. 

“My sister can chaperone,” he suggested, gently guiding you toward where his family was situated. 

You could only nod dumbly in response, the flutters in your lower abdomen only growing stronger when he placed his hand over yours. Vaguely registering Daphne and Simon waving at you, you smiled and greeted them, grateful to have something else to focus on that wasn't Mr. Bridgerton's very well-sculpted arms. 

As you began to stroll, the Bassets a few paces behind you, you felt that your voice was stable enough to begin a conversation. “So, Mr. Bridgerton, indulge my curiosity and tell me more about your travels. Have you ever been lost at sea?”

Colin smiled at you, unable to hold back his fondness for you once again, and his breath was stolen from his lips as he made eye contact with you. You looked back eagerly, staring straight into him, and he was momentarily speechless. But you blinked, indicating that you were still awaiting a response, and he realized he had forgotten himself once again in your presence, an alarmingly increasing trend. 

After clearing his throat, Colin answered, “A few times, yes. Most unfortunate was the time we became lost in the twilight hours when it was freezing out, but the stars proved an exceptionally useful tool in helping us find our way.”

“The stars?” you asked, curious. Could it be that you and Colin had yet another thing in common? It was hard to parse who he had been with you the past few days with the man you had a rivalry with practically from the moment you arrived in England. Who was the real Colin?

“Yes, indeed,” affirmed Colin, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. “They’re actually quite a useful tool. Regardless of our whereabouts, we look at the same constellations, albeit from differing vantage points. For instance, if you look up at the sky any of these nights, and you see three stars close together arranged in a line, that’s-”

“Orion’s belt,” you finished for him, your voice soft. Then, seeing his amused, and admittedly curious, smile, you explained, “My governess used to take me outside at night, even in the winter, so I could look at the stars. I know a fair few constellations, and I always like to know which ones are visible to me.”

Colin shook his head in wonder. The universe was a cruel thing, to make you so perfectly suited to him and make you hate him more than you hated, apparently, anyone or anything else. But it wasn’t like he liked you any better, he reasoned.

“I’d wager you’d be a wonderful navigator, then,” he said. “I’m certain you’d never get lost in treacherous waters.” He had to physically bite his tongue to keep from suggesting that you go with him on his next trip around the world. 

You hummed softly in response. It never quite felt like you had a grip on where you were going. Usually, you just felt like you were groping around in the dark, desperately trying to find the right way to go. 

The promenade stretched on longer than anticipated, with both of you engaging in pleasant conversation throughout, and more than a few stolen glances. It was a shock, really, when Daphne cleared her throat politely behind you and Colin. You suddenly realized that you and Colin had been walking together for longer than was typically appropriate. 

“It might be time for Lady Montclair to promenade with someone else,” she suggested gently, a sympathetic smile on her face as she looked at Colin's crestfallen face. Turning away from you, she leaned over and whispered something unintelligible to Simon as the pair walked away back toward the rest of the Bridgertons, allowing you and Colin a few moments of privacy.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, finding yourself slightly disappointed that your time together was ending. “I’m not quite sure I would have needed your saving again, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Suddenly, you noticed a piece of lint on the lapel of Colin’s jacket. You reached over, almost instinctively, and picked it off. Your fingers barely grazed his chest, and his words caught in his throat as he saw your hand reach toward his chest in slow motion. 

The two of you stood still, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity, one of your hands still extended toward him. Realizing your actions necessitated an explanation, you hurriedly brought your hand back to your side again and averted your gaze, avoiding eye contact with Colin.

“Lint,” you explained awkwardly. “On your coat.”

Oh, how could you have done something so brash? And in such a public setting, too, you scolded yourself. 

“I-Th-Well, I-Thank you, Lady Montclair,” Colin stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting from your intimate gesture. But you were already walking away, fists clenched at your sides as he saw you walking back to your family. 

Once more, you were intercepted by what could only be described as a horde of men vying for your favor. But, just like two nights prior, all Colin could feel was a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he watched you walk away, your laughter ringing like music in his ears. 

He knew what that was like now. To have you genuinely laugh at something he said. And it was different from how you were with these men. Even different from how you had been with the Duke. His heart warmed when he realized he had something of you that no one else did, and he wanted to bottle up your laugh and keep it in his breast pocket, forever a reminder of you near his heart.

A short distance away, Carlos observed with amusement as Colin stood there, seemingly transfixed by your departure. Standing beside him was Leonor, who had also been privy to the entire spectacle. The two often found themselves together during family outings, enjoying speaking in Spanish for a change. 

“La ama,” Carlos said to Leonor, his tone tinged with amusement at Colin's evident infatuation (He loves her).

Suppressing a chuckle, Leonor discreetly cleared her throat. “Y cuanto tiempo crees que será hasta que se de cuenta?” she quipped in response (And how long do you think it'll be until he realizes?).

---

In the late afternoon, you found yourself seated by the pianoforte, the pleasant notes of your scales filling the room. Across from you, your mother quietly engrossed herself in a book, while Isabelle diligently worked on her needlepoint. Suddenly, the tranquil atmosphere of your sitting room was disrupted as your butler made an unexpected entrance. 

“Lady Montclair, a visitor,” he said politely, bowing slightly. 

Your fingers stopped playing and you looked toward your mother, who had a questioning look on her face. 

“I hadn’t been expecting anyone. And at this hour? Is everything alright?” she asked the butler. 

His face flushed slightly. “My apologies, I meant Lady Y/N Montclair,” he corrected himself. “It’s the Duke.”

But he barely had time to announce your visitor before Lord Barlow strode into your sitting room, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes. He looked positively ghastly, and you wouldn’t have doubted it if he told you he hadn’t slept in a week. 

He was panting and slightly sweaty, clearly having rushed over to your home for some unknown reason, when he took off his hat and crouched next to the pianoforte bench.

“Forgive me,” he addressed the other women in the room. Then, turning back to you, he roughly grasped your hand, placing a wet kiss on the back of it. You slightly cringed in disgust, not particularly wanting this man anywhere near you.

“Y/N, my darling, I am so terribly sorry for what happened at the Bridgerton ball. It was unforgivable. Except that you must forgive me!” he pleaded, voice full of desperation.

You were utterly confused, and more than a little angry. Who did this man think he was, barging into your home at this hour and demanding forgiveness? You shared a look with your mother, who looked equally as scandalized. 

“Lord Bar-” you started, but before you could finish, he interrupted you, grasping your hand even tighter.

“No! Not Lord Barlow. Arthur. Your Arthur. It’s me; I’m here. What happened with Miss Barrington was a foolish mistake, and it will never happen again. Marry me, Y/N. Marry me and make me the happiest man in all of Mayfair. In all of England, even. Please,” he begged. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Leonor leaving the room quietly, and your stomach churned uncomfortably at the idea of having to face this man on your own. You breathed deeply, calming yourself with the thought that your mother remained in the room before you addressed Lord Barlow. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, shaking your head. “What of Miss Barrington? She will be ruined if you do not marry her.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and shaking his head in annoyance. “What of her? She is not as important to me as you are,” he said lowly. “I do not have with her what I have with you. I need you, Y/N. Please marry me.”

Letting the anger that had been slowly bubbling inside you take over, you snatched your hand out of his grip and stood up, towering over him. “Are you quite finished? You are completely unbelievable. I will not marry you, your Grace, and it is egregious that you would even suggest it. Do you truly have so little respect for Miss Barlow that you would leave her, ruined, as you married someone else? Do you truly think so lowly of me that you thought I would say yes?”

“Barlow, take your leave,” came a commanding voice from the doorway before the Duke could respond to you. 

With a surge of relief, you caught sight of Louis and Philippe standing firm with Leonor at their side, their expressions firm and determined, while she was looking anxiously between you and Lord Barlow. 

But the Duke was relentless, his desperation palpable as he pleaded his case, his words brimming with urgency. He stood up from where he had been kneeling and turned to face your brothers. "You don’t understand. I must marry your sister. I must!"

“I believe my brother asked you to take your leave, your Grace,” said Philippe, voice cold and cutting. “Louis, if you could be so kind as to escort Lord Barlow out.”  

Louis wasted no time, roughly grabbing Barlow’s arm and dragging him away from you as the man protested profusely. But your brother wasn’t going to let him hurt you again. It was bad enough that he had already done it once, but Louis would rather come to blows right now in your home than let the Duke stand in your presence for another second.

As Louis ushered Lord Barlow out of your sitting room, Philippe placed a protective hand in front of Leonor and pulled her behind him. Ensuring his wife’s safety, he turned to you, a concerned expression on his face.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

But you didn’t have time to answer, your father storming into the room with fury in his eyes.

“Was that Barlow I saw in the hall? Can someone give me an explanation?" he demanded, his gaze fixed on your stricken expression.

Your voice trembled as you confessed, still reeling from the shock of the encounter. "He asked me to marry him," you admitted, the words hanging heavily in the air. 

“She said no, of course. And put him in his place,” your mother added, eyes wide and fixed on the doorway still. It seemed that Lord Barlow’s unexpected appearance had been an unwelcome shock for her, too.

Your father placed his hands on his hips, staring at the two of you in disbelief. “Well done,” he finally conceded after a few moments of silence. 

You nodded meekly in response, not quite feeling anything right at this minute. 

“He is not worthy of you, Y/N. A title and fortune are important, of course, but so is honor. And he clearly has none,” said your father, disgust clear in his voice.

You’d heard this speech a million times, but this time the words rang loudly in your ears. A title and fortune are important, his words echoed in your mind. It was what your father always said, but this time you couldn’t help thinking: Colin Bridgerton, whom you had developed an inexplicable fondness for, possessed neither title nor fortune.

But as quickly as the doubt arose, you cast it aside. You reminded yourself firmly that Colin was not the sort of man a Montclair could marry. The reality was stark, and you refused to entertain the notion that such a match could ever be possible. You weren’t even sure that you liked the man, why were you thinking of marrying him?

—

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@sydneygal3107

[strawbeerossi]

All Hallows Eve

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Luke Alvez

Description: You and your three very attractive coworkers get to talking about sex and kinks whenever you are left alone at David’s Halloween party.

Content/Warnings: Alcohol mention/consumption, kink discussion, just a pinch of peer pressure when it comes to Spencer opening up, some germaphobic mentions, MMMF foursome, oral (f + m rec), face fucking, anal fingering (f rec) , double penetration, cum play (various types including: creampie and cum swapping), unprotected sex, some nice Spencer aftercare.

Word Count: 5.6K

Kinktober Day Thirty One: Foursome

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

This one is fucking filthy. Thank you all for coming on this Kinktober adventure with me!

Halloween parties were typically held at Dave’s house. It just made sense considering how big the place was and the amount of space he had not only in the house but also in the backyard. Besides, David Rossi would never turn down hosting a party at his place. He enjoyed throwing any kind of event right in his own backyard. That also meant a few extra guest rooms for the wasted adults that would be at said event.

It was Halloween night, everyone gathered at their coworker’s house and settled in the backyard, enjoying the heat of a fire that the guys had all set up. JJ and Matt were absent, spending the night at home with their children to celebrate the spookiest holiday of the year. Drinks were flowing, Spencer even partaking in just one drink for the night as opposed to his normal sober status, allowing himself to join in the festivity that he was normally left out of. However, he could argue that he liked being sober on nights like this. There was always something comical about someone in the team getting inebriated to the point that they act like an absolute menace to society.

Thankfully, tonight wasn’t too bad. Despite Emily and Penelope indulging in the liquor that their host never seemed to run out of. It had gotten to a point later that night where you had to wrestle both women into bed in one of the many guest rooms already set up for the adults staying over. You’d managed to get the two plastered women settled into bed — Mainly because you laid horizontally over both of their bodies to keep them in place. It took about twenty minutes, however it wasn’t long until you’d heard the soft snores of Emily while Penelope was sleeping soundly while snuggled up under the sheets.

You had to lay there for a moment to collect yourself before pushing yourself out of bed, heading out of the room while gently pulling the door shut. Last thing you needed was to make too much racket and have to chase those two around again. “I feel like you all owe me for that.” You commented as you’d pulled open the back door, Spencer’s head lifting up from a book in his hand. “Better you than us.” He commented, which had the other men outside laughing. “Rossi turned in early. It’s just us.” Luke informed you, the absence of Dave being noticed. “Fun. What are you three doing?” You asked, heading to the chair closest to Spencer as you were sitting down.

“Nothing really. Derek and I were just talking while Spencer is too interested in,” Luke paused and leaned over the table to inspect the book cover. “Quantum Physics..” He crinkled his nose. There was never a dull book choice with Spencer, that was for sure. “Most guys would probably be talking about their sexual experiences by now. But our lovely Spencer Reid is reading about physics.” You teased, all in good fun as you teased the male sitting beside you.

“I prefer not to talk about sexual experiences.”

“Because he hasn’t had any.”

“Derek!”

The table had erupted into laughter minus Spencer who had the look of a kicked puppy. “I’ve had sex before.” He grumbled while putting his face back in his book. “You have? Really?” You asked while letting your eyebrow raise. “Why is that a surprise?!” He asked, suddenly taking offense as he was closing the book. “No! I’m not saying it’s a surprise but you just don’t look like the type!”

“How does one look like a virgin?” He quizzed you, hazel eyes narrowed as he stared at you, head tilted to the side slightly. He had you there. What were you supposed to say? You cleared your throat as you lifted up your nearly forgotten glass of wine, swirling the red liquid around the glass. “I’m not sure how to answer that.” You admitted, making the genius smile triumphantly. “Exactly. You don’t know.”

“Okay, Casanova. Tell us about it.” Derek was intrigued as he leaned against the table. Spencer wasn’t one to share his personal life as often, so maybe that one drink he had in the night could’ve loosened him up even just a little bit to talk about it. “What?” The curly headed male squeaked, now looking between the three of you as you all seemingly waited patiently for a story.

“I’ve had sex more than once.” He huffed.

“Okay. So pick a good experience to tell us about then.” Luke chuckled as he raised an eyebrow, elbows propped up on the table.

With pursed lips, Spencer was crossing his arms. “I have to?” He asked while you nodded. “Oh yeah, you definitely have to. You’ve got some secrets that we need to know right now.” You giggle. Even with his apprehension, the brunette took in a breath. “Okay.. I guess I could share it. I mean, I have been wanting to get out of my comfort zone so maybe this will be good?” You highly doubted that he’d jump from being nervous like this to being able to talk about sex explicitly. It would take him a bit.

“Come on, pretty boy. I'm bored to death.” Derek sighed dramatically while you were punching his shoulder with a loud, “Shush!!”

“You remember Max, I’m sure.” Which yes, everyone did. His short-term girlfriend who had her family taken hostage a while ago. “We do, go on.” You urged him on, arms crossed on the table top. “I think you’re a little too into this,” Luke commented, the commentary being met with a swift kick to his leg under the table.

“I really don’t know how to describe it? Like, sex is sex, right?”

“Any interesting kinks? Come on, kid. We know you aren’t as innocent as you think you are.”

“Interesting? Not really. I mean, I am a fan of face sitting but I think that is standard, right?” The words escaping his mouth had Spencer’s face bright red as he leaned back against the chair behind him. There were wolf whistles at the admission. “Doesn’t matter if it’s standard or not.” Luke chuckled while holding his glass up as if he were toasting to him while chuckling.

“Well, what’s not considered normal?” Now Spencer was curious as he looked between the three of you. He wasn’t a big kinkster, as anyone would imagine. The question had you, Derek and Luke exchanging looks. “Well. Mixopholia isn’t common, I don’t think. Which that’s enjoying watching yourself have sex. Could be in front of a mirror, recording it, anything like that. It can be really fun, in all honesty. Especially if you record and play it back.” You responded, only raising an eyebrow at the gaped mouths of your male coworkers. “What? You’ve never done that? Derek, come on. You can’t lie.”

“No, mama. I never had that idea.” He chuckled while shaking his head. “It’s good to know now, I’m gonna need to try it.” He added while Luke was too busy thinking of things he liked. “It’s probably not abnormal but I really like thighs. I feel like that would be the body part I’m most obsessed with, especially when it comes to thigh fucking. It can be better than penetration.” He hummed. Which, they were pretty standard things to be sexually aroused by, even if Spencer would’ve never thought of the two ideas.

“I think I like group sex. I don’t have it a lot, however it can be pretty great when you have the right group. I know it’s nonconventional. I’ve had all sorts of sex but I think I’ll always go back to that.” Derek spoke up while shrugging his shoulders. “A group?? Do you know many germs are exchanged in encounters like that?” Spencer asked, dumbfounded while the man in front of him waved him off. “It’s a good time. If you don’t believe it, then I highly suggest you at least try it before denying,” He chuckled.

Judging by Spencer’s look of morbid curiosity, he was considering it. “How does one even do that? I feel like you need to have connections..” Was Spencer really considering it? “You just have to find people you’re comfortable with.” Derek shrugged while tapping his hand against the table. There were a few moments of silence while Spencer’s brain was working overtime, you could swear smoke was coming out of his ears.

“I trust all of you.”

The words had your throat running dry. “Is that supposed to be an invitation?” You asked, your own curiosity shining through. You’d always considered Derek, Luke and Spencer as attractive, however you never considered having sex with all three of them. You had to admit, you really did enjoy the idea of getting passed around by some of the most attractive men on the team. The idea was enough to cause goosebumps to spread across your body. Surely it would be a bad idea to have sex with a coworker, much less three of them.

Spencer’s face was bright red as he put his hands up in self defense. “You don’t have to say yes but I would say that I wouldn’t mind sharing.. Germs..? With you guys.” He shrugged while shyly looking away. What a compliment from Spencer Walter Reid. The man who wouldn’t even give handshakes was willing to throw away his typical formula for three coworkers. “I am just saying!” He rambled on, now feeling self conscious at his admission.

“Now hold on. I think this idea could be beneficial.” Luke spoke up while chuckling. “I mean. We are all grown ups, right?” Your head nodded immediately after Luke put in his own two cents. “I agree with Luke. I mean, where’s the harm?! We are all friends anyway, I couldn’t imagine this being awkward for us.” Realistically, there were many issues with the idea of having sex with coworkers. You didn’t even care about them right now.

“Are you guys serious?” Derek asked, wide eyes from shock. “Why not? You mean to tell me that you’re gonna pass up sex?” You asked curiously while raising an eyebrow. “Well, no. I just.. Damn, I didn’t know tonight would end like this, that’s all.” He explained, being so flabbergasted at the idea of a foursome with his coworkers. “Might I suggest we move inside? I mean, the last thing we need is Rossi looking out the window and seeing us out here.” Luke began while nodding towards the window overlooking the backyard.

So, you did.

You had never been this excited before, your body buzzing with arousal and excitement. This was a sexual bucket list type thing for you, not something you could imagine doing regularly. Plus, having it be with Derek, Spencer and Luke just made it twenty times better. The minute you were closed in the guest room furthest from everyone else in the house, there was a bit of awkwardness as the four of you looked between each other. How does somebody kick something like this off? With strangers, it would be different but you all worked together.

This was a lot harder to start than you thought it would be.

“How about we ease ourselves into this?” Derek suggested, now looking between the other three people in the room. “Why don’t you give us a show?” He hummed while looking in your direction, your face flushed. “Like a strip tease?” The nod of his head solidified your suspicions, your head nodding as you watched the three men sit on the edge of the bed to face you. The intense gaze of three men was intimidating as all hell, especially when they had the look of hunger and desire burning holes through your skin.

Your movements were slow as you pushed the Halloween sweater up your body, tugging it over your head before tossing it somewhere else in the room. You hadn’t planned for this so you couldn’t get too dressed up, however the Halloween themed bra and panty set was cute and got the job done. Next was your leggings, which were slowly being pushed down your thighs as you were revealing the thin panties, a nice wet patch darkening the cotton. You liked this attention. You liked the idea of being ravished by three men who wanted to use you for their own pleasure.

It was exhilarating.

“Come here.” Derek was the first to speak up, his finger making a gesture to get you to come closer. You obliged, only letting out a squeak of surprise when you were being tugged in the man’s lap. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressed against your ass, brain clouded with arousal as you were letting your arms wrap around Derek’s shoulders. His hands were gripping your ass, eyes scanning over your body as he let out a low groan. There were no words exchanged, the man mesmerized by your nearly fully exposed body, his hands running up your hips before cupping your clothed breasts.

You let his hands continue to caress and explore every inch of skin, face hot as you were rocking your hips against his strained cock in his jeans. “You like this, don’t you? Like the attention of your friends and coworkers?” He questioned while an eyebrow raised, your head nodding as you let out a shaky breath from the friction of his jeans against your clothed clit, the roughness of his pants felt like heaven through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Who knew you’d be a whore? You want us to record this? Give you something to look back on whenever that little pussy of yours is desperate to be stuffed?” The words elicited a moan, your head nodding. “Fuck. Yeah.” You whined.

Luke was the one who was getting his phone, setting up the device on a lamp on the bedside table to get a clear view of the bed. You were caught off guard though when you were quickly pushed to the mattress, your back hitting the smooth sheets. Using your elbows to prop yourself up, you watched as Derek was patting Spencer’s shoulder. The brunette was already overwhelmed seeing you in your underwear, his face bright red as he could feel the tight constriction of his boxers around his cock.

“Go on, kid. You wanted to try this, didn’t you? Only fair you get to go first.” Derek commented while nodding his head to urge him on. The awkward male was clearing his throat as he was approaching the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist to welcome him as your hands then gripped his arm, gently tugging his lanky frame closer to you as you let your lips press against his. The sudden action had him taken aback, however the shock wore off rather quickly as his lips slotted with your own.

It was calm at first, until the desperation set in as the male above you. That was when the kids had grown messy, your fingers tangled in his brunette curls as his hips were grinding against you. Spencer would be the first to say that he was going to drink in the moment, to enjoy this while you allowed him to touch you in any way he pleased. It was no secret that the awkward, shy genius had a small crush on you, his behavior making it apparent more often than he realized. That was why he was taking his time, his tongue in your mouth as the germaphobe was surprising himself with his loss of apprehension to swap spit with you.

Much to both of your dismay, he was pulling out of the kiss. He made up for it though as his hands were coming up to cup your bra-clad breasts. A low groan left his lips as he kneaded at your soft, plush tits. One hand was slipping under you, his fingers quickly unclasping the article of clothing in his way and throwing it off to the side. He groaned, eyes fixated on your bare breasts. “You’re so pretty.” His voice came out in a pitiful whine, head dipping down to take your right nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his tongue swiping over your hardened nub had your eyes fluttering shut, the man sucking and nipping at your sensitive nipple while his other hand was working to massage your other breast, nipple rolling between his fingers to give it the equal attention that it deserved. As he’d done his best to alternate, it wasn’t long until your chest was glistening with the remanent spit from his attack on your tits.

With his hungry eyes trailing down your body now, he was leaning down to press a few warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach. Your fingers were quick to tangle in his soft brunette curls, head tilting back as his tongue trailed slowly down your stomach, nipping at your skin to leave a nice and big purple mark on your hip. The other men in the room had not been forgotten about however, your head tilting to the side to look at both Luke and Derek, the two men watching the scene play out in front of them, eyes blown out with lust and desire.

In a way, you felt like a gazelle in the presence of three starving lions, one already making his pounce onto you while the other two had calculated plans of their own. Spencer was blowing cool air on your glistening pussy, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as you clenched around nothing from sheer desperation. “Hold on,” Luke spoke up, his silence being short lived as Spencer was letting out a whine from his spot between your thighs. You didn’t expect Spencer to actually listen, however you weren’t able to question it as the other male was approaching the bed. “I have an idea. No need to get all teary eyed, Reid.” He spoke with a chuckle, the male between your thighs huffing as he backed away momentarily in order for Luke to throw you into a position.

The stark contrast between Spencer and Luke was something you were gracious for. The genius had a since of desperation, everything about him screaming that he wanted to drink in your essence and bask in the warmth coursing through his veins. The other had a clear motive in mind, the confidence to pick you up and move you into a position that he wanted you to be in. Both so different and yet so alike in the fashion of your thighs being sticky with your own arousal. With your body being turned horizontal, your head was now hanging off the bed which left very little to the imagination of what was coming next.

What you weren’t expecting though was Luke to nudge Spencer to the side when he was between your legs again, your left leg hanging off Spencer’s shoulder while your right was hanging off Luke’s. “Let’s put your germaphobia to the test.” Alvez just had to tease Spencer, a chuckle leaving his lips as he was leaning closer to your aching core. His tongue licked a fat stripe up your slit, a soft breath falling from your lips. You’d never thought of two men licking your pussy at once but the idea of it had butterflies going crazy in your belly.

Spencer was hesitant, looking at the spit mixed with your arousal. Before he could talk himself out of this idea and hide in the corner, he was leaning forward to lick the same spot the other man did. The comfortability was soon setting in as Spencer let his tongue flick over your clit, a sharp breath leaving your lips as you let a hand tangle in the mop of curls. Whenever the male began to suck and toy with your clit, Luke was bringing a hand to his mouth as he sucked at his fingers, eventually getting them settled at your entrance before pushing one of the digits inside of your desperate cunt, eliciting a moan as your head tilted back, still hanging over the edge of the bed.

As the two men between your legs alternated between licking at your weeping pussy or fingering you, Derek got a little bored of watching. While your head was tossed back, eyes fluttered shut as both skilled tongues were licking and sucking at your sensitive center, Derek worked on unbuttoning his pants as he approached where your head was hanging off the bed. “Alright, pretty girl. We are gonna put that mouth to good use.” He spoke, voice low and husky as he was retrieving his hard cock out of his pants.

Your mouth was practically watering as you took in the sight of the leaking tip of his cock, the shaft glistening from the beads of precum that were dripping from his slit. There was a lot going through your mind, however your body worked as if it was going off muscle memory.

As your desperate pussy clenched around someone’s fingers, your mouth was falling open to give the male above you the access that he needed. “That’s what I thought. Who would’ve known that you’d be such a whore?” He asked, an eyebrow raising as his hand tugged at his cock, slipping his cock past the threshold of your lips while his hand was running over your chest.

You were on cloud nine, even through the gagging on your coworkers cock to the point tears were brimming your eyes. There was a lot going on, so much that you couldn’t focus on everything at once. That was what prompted Derek to take control. With his body leaning at a certain angle, he didn’t hesitate before thrusting into your mouth to elicit a moan as your eyes were screwed shut.

The thrusts were rough and precise, the male abusing your throat and surely rubbing it raw as he used your mouth like a fleshlight. “She’s gonna cum. Do we let her do it, doc?” Luke’s voice spoke up, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as your walls fluttered around the three fingers pistoning in your swollen, desperate cunt. Spencer was all for it, pulling off of your throbbing clit with a ‘pop’. “I think she’s been good enough to deserve it.” He confirmed, watching as Luke pulled his fingers out of your pussy, eliciting a whine from your lips being muffled around Derek’s cock. Luke was gripping the back of Spencer’s hair, catching the man by surprise.

The next movements were quick, Spencer having his face pushed into your pussy once more while Luke kept an eye on your mannerisms. With Spencer licking and sucking at your sweetness and Luke practically jerking his head in different ways to take control himself, it wasn’t long until your legs were shaking. With your orgasm building and Spencer sensing you were close, he didn’t need Luke's guidance to push his face further in your warmth, the sinful sounds of slurping and sucking filling the room.

“Fuck. Cum on his tongue, make a mess of his face.” Derek growled as he glanced down at you, his cock twitching in your mouth. Whenever you were hitting your orgasm, the man fucking your throat followed right behind. You did your best to swallow what you could, however he was tapping your cheek after his cock was pulled from the warmth of your mouth.

“Hold on, keep some of it.” He spoke, which had you nodding slowly as you pushed yourself to sit up while glancing at the men between your legs. “Why don’t you share with Spencer?” He asked, arms crossed as Spencer looked at the man with wide eyes. “Huh?!” you were following the instruction, your hands cupping Spencer’s cheeks before you were pressing your lips against his. In the process of the male getting comfortable enough with the idea, you were pushing the remnants of Derek’s cum into the brunette’s mouth, slowly pulling out of the kiss while wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

Spencer wasn’t really fond of it, however he knew this was for the sake of experimentation and he wouldn’t have to do it again. Luke was the first one to stand up as he worked on getting his clothes off, not being able to stand being fully clothed and constricted any longer. “Come here.” He mumbled, now moving to sit on the edge of the bed while tugging your body into his lap, his cock against your wet cunt as you weren’t hesitating to roll your hips slowly. “Fuck.” You breathed, feeling the hardness of his cock slotting between your slick pussy lips as you were grinding against his lap.

“That’s right.” Luke purred while his hands were reaching behind to grip your ass, a soft hum leaving his lips as he squeezed the plushy skin into his hands with a bruising grip. With one of your hands reaching between the both of you, you were positioning the bulbous tip with your leaking hole, you were sucking in a breath as you were slowly sinking down on his hard cock. Much like Derek’s, Luke had a good amount of length and girth, his fat cock stretching out your walls with a pleasurable burn.

His hands were gently guiding your hips, starting the process of working out what was most pleasurable for the both of you. The movements were slow, your hands holding his shoulders in order to brace yourself as you surrendered control to Luke for the time being. “Ah!” You squeaked, a certain angle making him hit the perfect spot. “There it is.” He smirked, the next thrust being a rough snap of his hips that had your body bouncing in his lap, a drawn out moan falling from your lips. Your hands rested gently against his broad chest, nudging him to lay back as you got into a more comfortable position. With your hair falling over your shoulder, your head was tilting forward as your hips were rocking at a steady pace while the large hands were now moving up your torso to fondle your breasts in his hands. While his fingers pinched and stimulated your sensitive nipples, you were reduced to a whining mess as your hips picked up their pace in sloppy movements.

The sensitivity from your previous orgasm had you feeling overwhelmed, just the feel of every ridge and curve of Luke’s cock had your body with satisfaction. Of course, he had learned your tell when it came to you about to cum, the way your greedy pussy tried pulling more of his cock even though he gave you everything you could take. Right whenever your second orgasm was in your sights though, you were stopped. The firm grip on your hips weren’t Luke’s, no, they were Derek’s. He’d managed to get on the bed behind you at some point. “I feel like Spencer has been completely neglected.” He tsked, his head shaking. “I think I know how you can make it up to him though.” He mused.

You were confused and deprived of an orgasm, a whine leaning your lips as you were pushed forward, your bare chest smashed against Luke’s as your ass was in the air, giving the other two men a tasteful view of your pussy stuffed with Luke’s cock. Derek took initiative, reaching around your body as he was pushing three fingers into your mouth. You weren’t really aware of what the game plan was, however you were happy to suck and lube up his fingers for whatever he had planned. With one lubed up digit tracing the ring of your other hole, you were letting out a gasp of surprise. “Think you can handle it?” Derek asked.

It was the bare minimum, however you appreciated the search for consent before he went any further. “I-I think so? What’s the harm in trying?” You were pushing your ass back against Derek’s fingers more, anticipating how this was going to go. You’d experimented plenty, however you’d never thought to try anal. With everyone trying all sorts of new things tonight, you figured it would be fun.

You were holding tightly to Luke’s arms whenever the other man’s finger was gently pushing into your ring of muscle, a few tears being wiped away from his hand as he helped soothe you from the foreign intrusion. “Doing such a good job.” Derek’s voice spoke up, Spencer’s gaze being all too fixated on the way his finger was being tightly gripped. It made his cock twitch in his pants, his hands working to quickly get them off for after Derek got you fully prepared.

One finger turned to two, then two turned to three. You wouldn’t lie, you never expected to like the aspect of anal sex this much. Especially while being stuffed full of cock in one hole and getting fingers in another. It made you feel like a cock hungry whore, something that had your pussy clenching tight around Luke’s cock.

When you were considered prepared enough, Derek’s fingers were gently being pulled out of your hole. “Alright, Reid. Go for it. Think she’s ready to have both of her holes stuffed.” He chuckled, watching the brunette quickly getting on his knees on the mattress behind you when Derek moved. “You’re sure this is okay?” His voice was shaky as he asked the question, his dick throbbing from being neglected for the past few activities. “It’s okay. Please.” Your voice was in the form of a whine, feeling a whole new level of intoxication as soon as his slick tip was coming into contact with your asshole.

Spencer was groaning as he watched the way the hole was embracing the tip of his cock, his head tilting forward to send a string of spit to your desperate asshole. It was an action you hardly expected but you were embracing it as soon as you felt his cock pushing into you, a cry leaving your lips as a pool of drool was falling from the corner of your mouth and on Luke’s chest. This was too much, however you didn’t want it to end.

The two men had to come to an agreement, setting a pace where they wouldn’t rip you in half. Spencer’s large hands were gripping tight to your hips, nails digging into your flesh and surely leaving crescent indents in your soft skin. That was when Derek was retrieving the phone on the bedside table, approaching the bed as he played cameraman. “Look at her taking two cocks at the same time. Can you believe how much of a whore she is?” His voice was cold, yet not enough to be outright hurtful.

As Spencer was thrusting, your body was moving slightly as you were pretty much reduced to a little fuck doll that both Luke and Spencer were using for their own gratification. Your body was reduced to a pile of malleable clay in their hands, both men working out a system where they could reduce you to a crying and whining mess. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you were whining and moaning with each rough thrust. “You look like an angel. So pretty when you’re fucked out.” Derek cooed, the phone being moved to reveal your wet chin from drool, your eyes glossed over from the tears from overstimulation, even the way you laid all your weight on Luke’s chest as you were reaching your orgasm, walls clamping down onto the male’s cock.

There were a few more thrusts from Luke before you could feel a fish of warmth, his cum filling your spent pussy as you were shivering from the sensation. Spencer was the next one to reach his orgasm, spilling his seed into your tight hole as he was letting out a guttural groan. It was something that didn’t even sound like Spencer. You were so blissed out that you didn’t even remember whenever Luke gently lifted you off or his softening dick, laying you back on the mattress while your head was resting against the fluffy pillow that Spencer propped it up with.

“We should get you cleaned up.” Spencer cooed, his hands moving to gently rub your inner thighs to help relax your aching muscles from the new position you were just put into. Derek was nodding as he was getting himself dressed again. “We can run her a bath and help her get cleaned up. The bathroom is just next door.”

Spencer was the one to head out, reaching the bathroom and getting the bathtub ready with some bubble bath he found in one of the bathroom cabinets. Derek and Luke were both helping you stand and walking with you to the bathroom since you were still quite out of it. “Do you want all of us to stay here with you?” Luke asked while lowering you into the water once your bath was ready. For the first time in ten minutes, you were looking up at the three men with the same fucked out look in your eyes. “Spencer.” You whined gently, while the other two men were patting the brunette’s back before heading out of the bathroom to get the room cleaned up.

“Get in.” You slurred, the man not having to be told twice as he was stripping himself down once more and gently lifting you in order to get into the water before letting you lean back against his chest. “Thank you.” You yawned, feeling the warmth of his hands as he was massaging your body to help relax you even further. “You don’t have to thank me, silly. I’m here to help.” He assured you while pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good. Hopefully we can relive this night in the future. Just the two of us.”

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀DETECTIVE AND MURDERER IN HELL . —

#pairing : alastor x gn reader. #cw : may include adult content. enemies to lovers trope. #summary : you were a detective when you were a human! but uh oh, you died.. and you meet the target that you were on to before your death? #note : I feel bad for not posting for so long, here's a little sneak peek at what I'm working on! i received this prompt from an anon in my inbox and do i love it very much. i have so many ideas for this fic, it'll be my first ever long fic on this blog! i'll reply to the ask once I'm done with the fic :3

“my, isn’t it my favorite detective!” you hear a static, loud voice speak from behind you. you quirk a brow, slowly turning your head to see a demon that somehow resembles a deer. a red deer, that is. he wears this wide smile that stretches from ear to ear, his whole attire so formal it makes you question if you’re underdressed. he holds a cane in his hands; it looks like a speaker that he got custom-made. confusion bubbles inside of you, and multiple questions float across your mind. who is this man, that so happens to know what you work as when you were still alive?

and, out of all demons, why are you his favorite?

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” you turn your body to face him fully, your eyes scanning from head to toe wondering if it’s just a fuzzy memory of yours. the demon steps closer to you, a sense of uneasiness instantly rushes through your veins. you shudder suddenly..

“aha, of course we have! you were even so interested in me back when we were alive!” his words only made your confusion grow. you, being interested in someone? in what way? your work has never allowed you any extra space to catch feelings for anyone around you, so surely it’s not a crush unless you’ve misunderstood. It’s like he read your thoughts, he quickly adds in with a light chuckle.

“constantly trying to gather information about me, pinpointing my location, guessing my next move. fun times! I truly enjoyed watching you do so.” something clicked in your head. so this demon was presumably a target of yours before he died, but how could you know exactly which? you had so many targets, so many psychopaths you had to track down and lock them up for good. though, something about his deer features brings a blurry memory of a specific target that you currently can’t quite put a name to his face.

everyone in the hotel watches your interaction with the red demon quietly. the air is tense, nobody dared to breathe any harder than they are now. charlie is the most anxious one out of everyone in the room; angel is starting to doubt whether he should’ve brought you back to the hotel. but, surely, the manager is smarter than to kill off someone interested in staying, no?

“care to remind me which one are you?” your hands instinctively hide themselves in your pockets as a habit. your tone isn’t as friendly as it was when you spoke to the others, and the demon is loving the reaction he’s getting from you.

“gladly, my dear friend! i’d say my case was the one you spent the most time on,” you suddenly feel a strong tug on your hand before realizing that you’re shaking hands with the demon. his smile widens as you grow more uncomfortable. “the name’s alastor! pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure! I was there to witness your lovely slash boring death,”

you pull your hand back from his grasp, face scrunching at the mention of your death. he witnessed your death? what is he hinting? Is he trying to tell you that it was he who took the life of yours?

“I watched as you were murdered by one petty man i convinced, it was one of the most boring deaths i’ve ever seen! but dear, was i disappointed that you’ll never be able to put a close to my case when i thought you’d do better at fighting back.” you freeze suddenly, blood running cold from your face as he carries on.

“I was the last target you had before dying, it was a joy toying with you like a little mouse.”

so that’s what all the familiarity you felt was. his demeanor and personality, all that was jotted down in the notebook you had for research. he matches everything you wrote; you remember word by word from the number of times you’ve reread it, the times at night when you’re desperate to finally put the case to a stop. you feel anger and disgust pound in your chest, feet stepping back a couple of times.

he’s the reason why you died. you stare at his mocking smile, his expression that clearly shows his enjoyment while watching your reaction. a growl bubbles from your chest, and you see the spider demon hesitantly approach you. he stays beside you, rubbing his arm nervously while trying to think of a reason to pull you away from this scene.

“I died because of you,” you breathe out, body shaking not from fear but anger and realization. you suddenly leap forward when angel is about to reach out for your arm, your fingers curl tightly around the collar of alastor’s shirt. his smile only widens at your actions, a light hum that slides out so smoothly and audibly. “and it was purely for fun?” it’s even possible to notice every small feature you have on your face from how close you’ve pulled his face to yours. you earn a mere shrug from the demon.

“woah! babes, hey, calm down would’ja? let’s head somewhere else.” you feel a tug at your arm, but you don’t budge. you want to hurt this demon, to beat him until he’s curled up into a ball on the ground, but you can’t. there’s something holding you back, something telling you to not go any further than what you’re currently doing. he reeks of danger and mystery, hell knows what would he do to you if you were to cross his line. with another growl, you harshly push him away and he stumbles back a few steps with a small ‘oh!’.

angel sees this and takes the chance to quickly drag you away from the scene, and you let him. Everyone in the hall watches angel drag you all the way to the kitchen until alastor is out of your sight. his clawed fingers release your arm, a concerned gaze fixated on your slumping figure as you let out a deep sigh while pressing your face onto the surface of your palms.

now, you’ll really have to think it through whether you want to stay in this hotel. having so many things to take in so suddenly messes up your thoughts, something you’re unfamiliar with considering how you’re always sharp and organized.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Hiii!

I found your stories a few hours ago and they are perfect, I don't think I ever went through someone's account so fast hahah

If it's fine with you, could you do a sequel to the yandere bully story? Maybe what would happen if reader ended up too scared of his bullying and decided to change school, or had to move away due to personal reasons! What would be yandere's reaction?

Of course, it's just a request, so feel free to not do it if you don't feel like doing it!

Loving your stories, keep it up, I'm rooting for you! ❤

Yandere!Bully x Fem!Reader part 2

CW: Bullying, breaking and entering

Simon's mind went blank. It was as if the organ didn't want to process what he had just learned, so it decided to power off instead.

"Yeah, apparently she started homeschooling." The sharp nosed boy tried his best to bite back his smile. A year younger than Simon, Nicky looked up to him, aspiring to be just as (much of a bully) cool as he was. So when he overheard the office ladies sympathetically discussing Simon's favorite victim, he made sure to gather as much information as he could in order to try and impress Simon; gain his favor.

The squirrelly brunette had prepared mentally for a number of different reactions Simon could have had to the news: anger, disappointment, mild amusement.. but when he turned his eyes away from his milk box it confused him to see Simon's stare empty.

Thinking that Simon didn't care Nicky doubled down. "My sources say she was too scared to name her bullies, and that she just wanted it to end without a confrontation."

'She left because of me??' Simon squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shut out the kid yapping beside him. When (Reader) didn't come to school Simon was, of course, worried. He thought that she might have gotten sick, or worse. The worry over not being able to see her beautiful face was eating him up, and he admittedly began lashing out at other people, really making him into the bully (Reader) thought he was. But now he was hearing that she had left the school because of him??

"It's a good thing she didn't snitch, huh?" The prideful child said in a haughty way, pleased with himself (even though Simon didn't know, or care, why).

"Why are you telling me this?" 'Can't you see how fucked up you got me right now??'

"Huh?" Startled and suddenly nervous, Nicky wrung the bottom of his hoodie in an attempt to calm his stutter. "B- I just, I thought, because you- you seemed to hate her, ya know? So I thought- I just thought you'd be interested to know.."

"Great. Now I know." Simon's voice was hard and sharp. He wanted to cry, but he sounded like he was on the verge of attacking the younger kid. "What am I supposed to do with that information?"

Heart in his throat and lip trembling, Nicky handed over his phone with the camera open. "I took a picture of her address.."

Knock knock knock!

(Reader) happily rolled off the couch and made her way to the front door. Neither of her parents were home and she had already finished all of her classwork, so the student had been relaxing while scrolling through her phone. She had only been homeschooled for a week, but was already back to her old self again. (Reader) was so stress free that she wasn't as paranoid about an unexpected visitor as she probably should have been.

She opened the front door without peaking to see who it was, and she didn't have time to process that it was Simon until he had already shoved himself inside and closed the door behind him. All of the fear and anxiety that (Reader) had finally worked through snapped back like a rubber band, physically hurting her chest.

"What- Get out!" Her shaky voice commanded.

"Shut up." Simon had planned on being comforting and sweet, rehearsing the entire trip on how to apologize and finally woo (Reader) correctly. To mend all the damage his foul personality had accidentally done. But then he was there, in her hallway, and she looked so scared of him.. "What were you thinking? Not coming to school. I thought you might've killed yourself." His attempt to show how worried he was for her only sounded like a threat as it left his lips.

(Reader) thought about her phone she left on the couch, and wondered if she could get to it before he could grab her. "Please leave me alone.." If only she could inch backwards as subtly as possible..

"Why? I came here to make sure you were okay." Simon grabbed her wrist and squeezed tightly enough for her to bite the inside of her cheek. "Come back to school."

"..No."

His grip tightened.

"I- I can't!" (Reader) struggled to break free as the tears began to pool up. "Do you know how difficult it was to get into homeschooling?? More than half way through the year?? I didn't drop out!! I couldn't go back, even if I wanted to!" Her pleas made sense, but Simon was already too heartbroken to hear them.

"Then I guess I'm going to be your new study buddy." His smile was supposed to be kind, suave. He wanted to look caring and dashing. But to (Reader) his half lidded eyes and tight smile looked like a malevolent smirk.

"What?"

"What? You thought you could run away from me? It's not like your family has enough money to just up and move whenever they want." Simon glanced around at the furniture visible from the entrance to double check that they, in fact, were not rich enough to move whenever. "And now I know where you live."

(Reader) parted her lips to talk back, but Simon quickly closed the gap between them, pulling her into his chest and kissing her painfully. He had imagined their first kiss many many times, and it was never like this. But it didn't matter if it was rushed and he pulled her in too hard and he slammed his lips against her's too forcefully. The young man wanted to beg her to never leave his side again, but instead as he turned around to leave he only left her with another warning.

"Don't even think about calling the cops. I'll be back to check up on you again later.. and if you try to run again, I'll fucking find you."

[elysiaheaven]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧-𝟑

Created by@𝓶𝓸𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓮

AN IM CRAYZ AHAHHAHAHAJANNANANANSNSNSN

WORDS:12341

TW:obssesive behaviour, unhealthy relationships/feelings,Clingy,Manipulation,Emotional manipulation,forcing of marriage...,mention of death,killing/Most TWS FOR YANDERE,suggestive!

The door closes behind Sunday, you exhale a sigh of relief, though the tension in your muscles persists. Every moment feels like a delicate balance between maintaining appearances and planning your next move toward freedom.

You sit down at the table where Sunday left the tray of food, but your appetite is gone. Instead, your mind races with thoughts of Robin, the birdcage, and the path to escape that lies hidden within the temple. You replay her instructions in your mind, reminding yourself of the need for caution and secrecy.

With a sense of urgency, you pull out your phone and review the photos you took in the temple and the ancient texts you managed to gather. They are your lifeline, your guide to understanding the symbols and rituals that might hold the key to your liberation.

As you immerse yourself in deciphering the ancient writings, a plan begins to take shape. You need more information, more clues that could aid your escape. The library in the palace holds many secrets, and perhaps there are more texts or maps that could reveal additional passages or hidden exits.

You glance around the room, ensuring no one is watching, before slipping out of your quarters once more. The palace is quiet, its grand halls echoing with the weight of centuries-old secrets. You make your way to the library, heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear of being caught.

Inside, you quickly scan the shelves, pulling out books and scrolls that catch your eye. Each one could hold a piece of the puzzle, a clue that might lead you closer to unlocking the secrets of the temple and your path to freedom.

Hours pass as you pour over the texts, deciphering ancient languages and piecing together fragments of history. You uncover references to hidden passages, symbols of protection, and rituals that speak of liberation from confinement.

Just as you're about to delve deeper into a particularly promising tome, you hear footsteps approaching. Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly hide the book beneath your cloak, pretending to browse casually as Sunday enters the library.

He smiles warmly at you, his presence both reassuring and unsettling. "I thought I might find you here," he says, his tone gentle. "Did you find something interesting?"

You nod, trying to appear composed despite the racing of your heart. "Just exploring the history of this place," you reply, your voice steady. "There's so much to learn."

Sunday steps closer, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable. "You have a thirst for knowledge," he observes softly. "I admire that about you."

You force a smile, hiding the turmoil beneath the surface. "Thank you," you say, careful not to reveal too much.

He reaches out and gently touches your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I want to show you something," he says quietly, his eyes searching yours.

Your mind races with possibilities, unsure of what Sunday has in mind. But you know you must tread carefully, maintaining your facade while continuing to search for any opportunity to further your escape.

Sunday leads you through the library, your heart races with both apprehension and determination. You maintain a facade of calm curiosity, nodding politely as he speaks of the palace's history and its hidden treasures. However, when Sunday suddenly stops and turns to you with a piercing gaze, you feel a surge of unease.

"Do you know someone named Robin?" he asks, his voice gentle yet probing.

You pause, taken aback by the directness of his question. Fear grips your heart momentarily, but you quickly gather your composure. You know that admitting any knowledge of Robin could jeopardize your escape plans.

"No," you reply firmly, meeting Sunday's gaze with feigned innocence. "I don't know anyone named Robin."

Sunday studies you intently for a moment, his expression unreadable. You hold your breath, praying that he believes your lie.

After what feels like an eternity, Sunday nods slowly. "I see," he says quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "I must have been mistaken."

Relief washes over you, but you remain cautious. "Is everything alright?" you ask, trying to divert his attention.

Sunday sighs softly, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "I worry about you," he admits, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I want to protect you."

You nod, offering a reassuring smile. "I appreciate that," you reply, keeping your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

He reaches out and gently touches your shoulder, his touch lingering briefly. "I care about you," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours.

You swallow hard, fighting the urge to pull away. "I know," you say softly, masking your discomfort with practiced ease.

Sunday's eyes darken with a mix of frustration and determination. Before you can react, he pushes you against the wall, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly but not painfully. The suddenness of his action leaves you breathless, and the intensity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure you don't know anyone named Robin?" he asks again, his voice low and insistent.

Your heart pounds in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm. You meet his gaze with as much steadiness as you can muster. "I already told you, I don't know anyone named Robin," you reply, your voice unwavering.

Sunday's eyes narrow, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "You're lying," he whispers, his tone a mixture of accusation and curiosity. "I can see it in your eyes."

You swallow hard, trying to keep your fear from showing. "I'm not lying," you insist, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know her."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze boring into yours as if searching for any crack in your facade. You can feel the tension in the air, the unspoken challenge between the two of you.

Finally, Sunday releases his grip on your shoulders and steps back, a resigned look on his face. "Fine," he says quietly. "If you say you don't know her, I'll let it go. But know this—if you are lying, and I find out, there will be consequences."

You nod, relief flooding through you as he steps away. "I understand," you say softly, hoping to appease him.

Sunday's expression softens slightly, and he reaches out to gently touch your cheek. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmurs. "But I need to know I can trust you."

You nod again, feeling a mixture of guilt and determination. "You can trust me," you say, hoping your words sound sincere.

He smiles faintly, though the tension between you remains. "Good," he says softly. "Then let's move on. There's still so much I want to show you."

You didn't know why you to joke.

"....How are you gonna show that you can trust me?"

Sunday's intense gaze holds you captive as he steps closer, his hands once again gripping your shoulders. This time, however, his movements are slower, more deliberate. He pushes you gently against the wall again, and you feel the solid surface cool against your back. His eyes never leave yours, a strange mix of desire and determination burning within them.

Before you can react, Sunday leans in and starts to kiss you. His lips brush against your neck, your collarbone, trailing down your shoulder with a feather-light touch. He avoids your face, focusing instead on the sensitive areas that make your heart race and your breath hitch. The sensation is overwhelming, and despite your best efforts to resist, you feel a small part of you responding to his touch, craving more.

Your mind battles against your body's reactions, the fear and anger you feel toward Sunday warring with the unexpected desire his touch elicits. Just as you begin to grapple with these conflicting emotions, your vision starts to blur. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and the room begins to spin.

"S-Sunday," you murmur weakly, trying to push him away, but your strength fails you. Your knees buckle, and you feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

The last thing you see before everything goes dark is Sunday's face, his expression a mixture of concern and satisfaction. You faint, your body going limp in his arms.

When you regain consciousness, you're no longer against the wall. Instead, you find yourself lying on a plush bed in a dimly lit room. Your head feels heavy, and you struggle to remember what happened. As you slowly sit up, you notice Sunday sitting in a chair nearby, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"You're awake," he says softly, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of something more.

You nod, still feeling disoriented. "What... what happened?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You fainted," Sunday replies, standing up and walking over to you. "I was worried about you."

You look at him, trying to read his intentions. "Why did you do that?" you ask, your voice shaking slightly.

Sunday sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to gently stroke your hair. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says softly. "I just... I wanted to show you how much I care about you. How much I need you to trust me."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you pull back slightly, your mind racing with thoughts of escape. You know you need to be careful, to play along until you can find a way out of this twisted situation.

"I... I understand," you say slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "But you need to give me time. This is all so overwhelming."

Sunday nods, his eyes softening. "Of course," he says gently. "Take all the time you need. Just know that I'm here for you, and I will always protect you."

You force a smile, trying to appear grateful even as your mind works furiously to formulate a plan. You can't let Sunday know about Robin or your intentions to escape. You need to find a way to gather more information, to uncover the secrets of the temple, and to finally break free from his control.

As Sunday leaves the room to give you some space, you take a deep breath and just..sleep?

The next morning, you awaken to find a beautifully wrapped box at the foot of your bed. Its ornate ribbon and delicate paper signal that it's something special. As you sit up, the door creaks open, and Sunday enters, his face alight with a mix of anticipation and joy.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, walking over to the box and gently lifting the lid. Inside is a stunning wedding gown, intricately designed with delicate lace and shimmering embroidery. He holds it up for you to see, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You'll be marrying me. Isn't this what you wanted?"

Your heart skips a beat, and a cold chill runs down your spine. The weight of his words crashes over you, and you feel a surge of fear and panic. But you know you must maintain your facade, to keep him from suspecting anything.

You force a smile, though your hands tremble slightly as you reach out to touch the gown. "It's beautiful," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Sunday. I'm... happy."

Sunday's smile widens, and he steps closer, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "I'm glad you like it," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "I want our wedding to be perfect. You deserve nothing less."

You nod, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and the urgency of finding a way out before it's too late. "Of course," you reply, trying to sound genuine. "I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

He leans in and kisses your forehead, his touch both tender and possessive. "Tomorrow, we'll be together forever," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "I'll make sure you're happy."

You manage a small nod, your heart pounding in your chest. As Sunday leaves the room to prepare for the day, you clutch the gown to your chest, feeling the weight of your predicament pressing down on you. The fear and uncertainty are almost overwhelming, but you know you can't give up now.

With trembling hands, you place the gown back in its box and take a deep breath. You need to find a way to escape, and you need to do it soon. The temple of Ena might hold the answers you seek, and you must find a way to visit it without arousing Sunday's suspicions.

As you get dressed, your mind races with plans and possibilities. You know that time is running out, and you must act quickly if you want to reclaim your freedom.

Determined, you leave your room and make your way through the palace, careful to avoid drawing attention to yourself. You head toward the library, hoping to find more information that might aid your escape. The library is vast and filled with ancient texts, and you know that somewhere within its shelves lies the knowledge you need.

As you search through the books, you come across an old map of the palace and its surrounding grounds. Your eyes widen as you spot a hidden passage leading from the palace to the temple of Ena. This could be your way out.

You carefully copy the map onto a piece of parchment, your hands shaking with a mix of fear and hope. You know that the risk is great, but you have no other choice. You must escape before the wedding, before it's too late.

As you slip the map into your pocket, you hear footsteps approaching. You quickly hide the book and turn to see Sunday entering the library, a concerned look on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes searching yours.

You force a smile, nodding. "Yes, I'm fine," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just doing some reading."

Sunday steps closer, his expression softening. "I just wanted to make sure," he says gently. "Remember, you can always talk to me."

You nod, feeling a pang of guilt for the lies you're telling. But you know it's necessary. "Thank you," you say softly. "I appreciate it."

He leans in and kisses your cheek, his touch lingering. "I'll see you soon," he murmurs, before turning to leave.

Sunday leaves the library, you exhale a sigh of relief, clutching the copied map tightly. The plan is forming in your mind, but the weight of the upcoming wedding still looms over you. You know you must act quickly, but you need a way to incapacitate Sunday without raising suspicion.

Just then, a familiar presence fills your thoughts. Robin's voice echoes in your mind, calm and guiding. "Make him a tea with the moonflower," she instructs. "It will make him sleep. Use this time wisely."

You nod to yourself, determination solidifying your resolve. The moonflower is rare, but you remember seeing it in the palace's garden, blooming under the cover of night. You just need to get it and prepare the tea without Sunday noticing.

With a renewed sense of purpose, you make your way to the garden, keeping to the shadows to avoid drawing attention. The moonflowers glow softly in the moonlight, their petals delicate and fragrant. You carefully pick a few, tucking them into your cloak before heading back inside.

In your room, you quickly prepare the tea, the scent of the moonflowers filling the air. As you work, you glance at the wedding gown, feeling a mix of fear and determination. This gown represents the cage Sunday wants to trap you in, but you won't let it hold you.

Dressed in the gown, you step out of your room, the fabric rustling softly with each step. You make your way to Sunday's chambers, the tray with the moonflower tea balanced carefully in your hands. You knock softly on the door, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Come in," Sunday calls from inside.

You enter, finding him adjusting his clothes in front of a mirror. He looks undeniably handsome, his attire immaculate and his demeanor confident. He turns to you, his eyes lighting up as he sees you in the gown.

"You look stunning," he says, stepping closer and taking your hand. "Tomorrow will be perfect."

You force a smile, feeling the weight of your deception. "I thought you might like some tea," you say, offering the tray.

Sunday's smile widens, and he takes the cup, inhaling the fragrant steam. "How thoughtful of you," he murmurs, raising the cup to his lips. "To us."

You watch as he takes a sip, your heart racing with anticipation. He drinks deeply, the warmth of the tea spreading through him. Within moments, his eyes begin to droop, and he sways slightly.

"Are you alright?" you ask, feigning concern as you step closer.

Sunday blinks, trying to stay awake, but the moonflower's effects are too strong. "I... I feel..." he mutters, before his eyes close and he collapses onto the bed.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, quickly moving to ensure he's deeply asleep. His breathing steadies, and you know you have precious little time.

With Sunday incapacitated, you rush to gather your things, grabbing the map and any other essentials. You slip out of the room, your heart pounding as you navigate the palace halls, heading toward the hidden passage leading to the temple of Ena.

As you move through the corridors, Robin's voice echoes in your mind once more. "Stay strong," she encourages. "Freedom is within your grasp."

You reach the hidden entrance, pushing open the concealed door and slipping inside. The passage is dark and musty, but you push forward, guided by the dim light of your torch and the hope of escape.

Finally, you emerge into the temple, the air heavy with the weight of ancient secrets. You move quickly, searching for any clues or tools that could aid your escape. The temple is vast and filled with relics, each one a piece of the puzzle that could lead to your freedom.

you delve deeper into the temple, you feel a surge of determination. The path to freedom is fraught with danger, but you won't let fear hold you back. You are stronger than the cage Sunday tried to trap you in, and you will find your way out, no matter the cost.

You began to navigate the temple, your mind races with thoughts of escape and the dangers that lie ahead. You pause briefly to steady yourself, your hand gripping the ancient map you had copied earlier. You know you must return to the palace before Sunday awakens, but the urgency of the situation weighs heavily on you.

Returning to the palace, you carefully retrace your steps to avoid suspicion. You slip back into your room, the gown still pristine, and quickly hide the map in a safe place. Your heart pounds as you consider your next move.

Sunday stirs as you enter his chambers again, his eyes fluttering open. He smiles groggily, clearly still affected by the moonflower tea but beginning to regain his senses.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out to touch the delicate lace of your gown. "Is everything ready for tomorrow?"

You nod, trying to maintain your composure. "Almost. Can you help me tighten the lace at the back? It doesn't feel quite right."

Sunday stands, still a bit unsteady, but he moves behind you and begins to adjust the lace. His fingers work methodically, and you can feel the fabric tightening around your waist. The intimacy of the moment sends a shiver down your spine, and you fight to keep your emotions in check.

As he finishes, his hands linger on your shoulders, and he leans in close. "Perfect," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear.

You turn slightly, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The gown fits perfectly now, the intricate lace accentuating your figure. But the sight only serves to remind you of the cage you're trapped in.

Suddenly, Sunday pushes you gently against the mirror, his eyes darkening with desire. "You look so beautiful," he murmurs, his lips trailing along your neck and collarbone. "I can't wait for tomorrow."

His hands roam over your body, and you feel a mix of fear and unexpected desire. He kisses you deeply, his lips exploring every inch of your skin except for your face. The mirror's cold surface against your back contrasts sharply with the heat of his touch.

You gasp, trying to maintain control, but the intensity of the moment overwhelms you. Sunday pulls back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. "Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice filled with longing.

You hesitate, knowing that you need to play along to buy yourself more time. "I... I do," you say softly, your voice trembling.

Sunday's smile widens, and he kisses you again, more fervently this time. Your mind races, trying to find a way out even as your body betrays you. You know you need to escape before he fully regains his strength.

With a sudden burst of resolve, you push against him gently. "We should wait until tomorrow," you say, trying to sound convincing. "It will be more special then."

Sunday hesitates, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he nods, a satisfied smile on his face. "You're right," he agrees, stepping back. "Tomorrow will be perfect."

Relief washes over you, but you know the clock is ticking. You need to finalize your escape plan before the wedding. As Sunday settles back into bed, you quietly slip out of the room, your heart pounding with determination.

You head back to your room, the weight of the gown reminding you of the urgency of your situation. Robin's voice echoes in your mind, urging you to stay strong. You know that freedom is within your grasp, and you won't let anything stand in your way.

As you sit down, you take a deep breath and begin to strategize. The temple holds the key to your escape, and you must return there when the opportunity arises. With each passing moment, you grow more determined to break free from Sunday's grasp and reclaim your life.

As the plan continues to take shape in your mind, you know you need to act fast. The next step is to ensure Sunday remains unconscious long enough for you to finalize your escape. You head back to the kitchen, gathering the necessary ingredients to prepare another batch of the moonflower tea.

Once the tea is ready, you carefully carry it back to Sunday's chambers. The door creaks softly as you enter, and Sunday looks up, a smile spreading across his face as he sees you.

"More tea?" he asks, his voice still groggy from the earlier dose.

You nod, offering the cup. "I thought it might help you relax," you say, forcing a smile. "You need your rest for tomorrow."

Sunday takes the cup from your hands, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "You're so thoughtful," he murmurs, taking a sip. "I don't deserve you."

You watch as he drinks, the effects of the moonflower beginning to take hold. He finishes the tea and sets the cup aside, his eyelids growing heavy. He reaches out, taking your hand in his, and kisses it gently.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers, his voice fading as he drifts into sleep.

You wait until you're sure he's deeply asleep, then carefully extricate your hand from his grasp. Your heart pounds as you stand up, making sure he remains undisturbed. You have no time to lose.

You quickly made sure if your wedding gown wasn't a problem..You gather your essentials, including the map, and take a deep breath. The palace is quiet, the only sound being your own footsteps as you make your way toward the hidden passage.

You navigate the dark corridors, the weight of your situation pressing down on you. Robin's voice echoes in your mind, urging you to stay strong and focused. You reach the hidden door, pushing it open and slipping inside.

The passage is as dark and musty as before, but you push forward, your resolve unwavering. The temple looms ahead, its ancient walls holding the secrets you need to uncover. You move quickly, determined to find the information that will lead to your freedom.

As you enter the temple, you feel a strange sense of calm. The air is heavy with the weight of history, and you know that this place holds the key to your escape. You move through the corridors, searching for anything that might help you.

Finally, you come across a small, hidden chamber. Inside, you find an old book, its pages filled with detailed instructions and ancient spells. You carefully read through it, your heart racing as you realize the power it holds.

You take the book and slip it into your bag, knowing that it could be your ticket to freedom. You head back toward the passage, your mind racing with thoughts of the future.

As you make your way back to the palace, you feel a renewed sense of determination. You know that the path ahead is fraught with danger, but you are ready to face it. You will escape from Sunday's grasp, no matter what it takes.

Because somewhere beyond these walls lies the life you deserve, and you won't stop until you've claimed it for yourself. The journey ahead may be perilous, but you are ready to face it head-on, no matter the cost.

Returning to the hidden passage, you move with a sense of urgency, your determination growing with each step. The weight of the ancient book in your bag reassures you that you have the means to escape. As you navigate the dark corridors, you feel a strange pull guiding you deeper into the temple.

You soon find yourself back at the small birdcage you had seen earlier, the one that held Robin. The small bird chirps softly as you approach, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and curiosity.

You carefully unlatch the cage, gently lifting Robin out. She flutters her wings, stretching them for the first time in what seems like ages. "Thank you," she chirps, her voice filled with gratitude. "But what were you doing here?"

You take a deep breath, explaining quickly. "I'm trying to escape. I found an old book with spells and instructions. I need to get away from Sunday before the wedding."

Robin tilts her head, understanding dawning in her eyes. "The moonflower tea worked, then? He's asleep?"

You nod. "For now. But I don't have much time. Do you know any safe routes out of here?"

Robin flutters closer, her small form hovering in front of you. "There's a hidden exit in the temple that leads to the forest. Follow me."

You follow Robin through the winding passages of the temple, her small form darting ahead and guiding you through the dark corridors. You move quickly, the urgency of your situation driving you forward. The air grows cooler as you descend, the walls closing in around you.

Finally, Robin stops at a seemingly solid wall. "Here," she chirps, pressing a small, hidden stone. The wall shifts, revealing a narrow passage leading to the outside. The fresh scent of the forest filters in, a stark contrast to the musty air of the temple.

You step through the passage, the forest opening up before you. The moonlight filters through the trees, casting a silvery glow over everything. Robin lands on your shoulder, her presence a comforting weight.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude. "I wouldn't have made it without you."

Robin chirps softly. "We're not out of danger yet. We need to move quickly. Sunday will realize you're gone soon."

You nod, determination hardening your resolve. "Let's go."

You move through the forest, the ancient book clutched tightly in your hands. The journey is far from over, but for the first time, you feel a glimmer of hope. You will find a way to break free from Sunday's grasp and reclaim your life.

As you navigate the forest, Robin's guidance leads you through hidden paths and away from any potential dangers. The night is filled with the sounds of the forest, but you move with a purpose, each step bringing you closer to freedom.

Hours pass, and the first light of dawn begins to filter through the trees. You find a small clearing and decide to rest for a moment, catching your breath and gathering your thoughts. Robin perches nearby, her eyes watchful and alert.

"There's one more thing you should know," Robin says, her voice tinged with regret. "If you get caught, take a wine bottle and the white roses. It's important."

You furrow your brow, confused. "Why? What do the wine bottle and white roses do?"

"...If we get caught..I.."

"We won't! Robin!"

You clutch the bag tightly, knowing that within it lies your chance at freedom.

Hours pass, and the sun rises higher in the sky. You find another clearing and decide to rest for a moment, catching your breath and checking your surroundings.

"We're getting closer," Robin says softly. "We can find shelter and plan our next move."

You nod, exhaustion beginning to set in. "Thank you, Robin. I don't know what I would've done without you."

Robin perches on your shoulder, her small form radiating warmth and comfort. "We're in this together," she says. "We'll find a way to keep you safe."

"!!!!!" Robin was suddenly uneasy.

"We need to find a safe place to hide," Robin whispers urgently, her wings fluttering with agitation.

You nod in agreement, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Just as you're about to move towards a promising alleyway, a sudden dizziness overwhelms you. The ground tilts beneath your feet, and you stumble forward, clutching your head in pain.

"Robin," you manage to gasp, before darkness consumes your vision.

When you awaken, the world around you is dim and unfamiliar. You find yourself lying on a cold stone floor, the air heavy with the scent of ancient dust and incense. As your senses gradually sharpen, you realize you're inside a dimly lit chamber adorned with intricate runes and flickering torches.

"Robin?" you call out weakly, your voice echoing in the eerie silence.

There's no response. Panic grips you as you struggle to your feet, the memories of your journey and the urgency of your mission flooding back. You stagger towards a nearby ornate mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of your surroundings and perhaps find a clue to your whereabouts.

Before you can reach the mirror, a voice cuts through the silence from the shadows.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The voice is smooth yet chilling, sending a shiver down your spine. Emerging from the darkness steps a figure cloaked in midnight black, his eyes glinting with malevolent amusement.

"S-Sunday," you stammer, recognizing him despite the years that have passed since you last saw his face. His presence fills the chamber with an oppressive aura, his every movement calculated and unnerving.

"You've come far, my dear," Sunday murmurs, his voice dripping with honeyed menace. "But not far enough."

Robin's absence weighs heavily on your mind as you struggle to maintain composure in the face of Sunday's eerie confidence. His smile is as cold as the stone around you, a stark reminder of the danger that has followed you relentlessly.

"What have you done with Robin?" you demand, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Sunday's laughter rings out, echoing off the ancient walls. "Oh, Robin is quite safe," he replies cryptically. "But you, my dear, are exactly where I want you."

As Sunday closes the distance between you with unsettling grace, you realize with sinking dread that escaping his grasp will require more than just cunning and bravery. With Robin's fate hanging in the balance and the ancient book's protection spell seemingly undone, you steel yourself for the confrontation ahead.

The game of cat and mouse has reached its climax.

Sunday approached, his presence looms over you like a specter of doom. You stand your ground, despite the tremors of fear threatening to overtake you. His eyes gleam with a mixture of amusement and malice, his every step echoing in the quiet chamber.

You glance around, taking in the unsettling scene. The chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches, is indeed filled with white roses arranged meticulously as though for a solemn ceremony. Their fragrance mingles with the heavy incense, creating an atmosphere both intoxicating and suffocating.

In your hand, you clutch the bouquet of white roses tightly, their delicate petals a stark contrast to the dire situation unfolding before you. Beside you, almost forgotten in the rush of events, is the wine bottle Robin mentioned—a potent sleeping potion that could provide a desperate escape if the need arose.

Sunday's gaze flickers briefly to the bouquet in your hand, a glimmer of recognition crossing his features. "Ah, the white roses," he muses, his voice smooth yet tinged with a hint of curiosity. "A symbol of purity and peace, but in this place, they serve a different purpose."

You swallow hard, uncertainty clawing at your resolve. "What do you want from me, Sunday?" you manage to ask, trying to buy time to formulate a plan.

He smiles knowingly, his demeanor shifting from amusement to something more insidious. "You've always had a knack for escaping, my dear," he murmurs, circling you like a predator to its prey. "But this time, you won't slip through my fingers."

With a sudden, swift movement, Sunday reaches out, his hand brushing against your arm. Fear surges through you as you instinctively step back, clutching the bouquet tighter. His touch sends a chill down your spine, a reminder of his power and your vulnerability in this strange and treacherous place.

"Where is Robin?" you demand again, your voice trembling despite your efforts to remain composed.

Sunday's smile widens, his eyes alight with a cruel glint. "Patience, my dear," he replies silkily. "All in good time."

As he continues to circle you, his movements fluid and unsettlingly calm, you weigh your options. The protective spell from the ancient book lies dormant, its potency diminished or perhaps manipulated by Sunday's dark magic. The white roses in your hand could potentially buy you time or sway Sunday's intentions, if only you could discern his motives.

Before you can decide on a course of action, a distant sound breaks the oppressive silence—a faint rustling, like the fluttering of wings. You glance towards the source, a sliver of hope igniting within you.

Robin appears, her small form darting through the shadows towards you. Relief floods your senses as she lands gracefully on your shoulder, her presence a beacon of solidarity in the face of Sunday's malevolence.

"Robin," you whisper gratefully, feeling a surge of courage bolstered by her unwavering loyalty.

Robin's declaration hangs heavy in the air, her voice resonating with both defiance and a hint of sorrow. "Brother," she says, her wings quivering with emotion, "please, don't do this."

Sunday's expression softens momentarily, a flicker of conflict crossing his features. "Robin," he replies, his voice betraying a trace of hesitation, "you know the rules."

Before Robin can protest further, Sunday gestures with a swift motion of his hand. Dark tendrils of magic coil around Robin, ensnaring her in an invisible cage. She struggles against the magical bonds, her cries echoing in the chamber, but the more she fights, the tighter the grip becomes.

"No!" you cry out, a surge of desperation propelling you forward. You reach out towards Robin, but a barrier of dark energy repels your touch, leaving you helpless to intervene.

Sunday watches impassively as Robin's struggles subside, her wings drooping with defeat. "I'm sorry, sister," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret, though his eyes betray no hint of remorse.

Robin meets his gaze, tears glistening in her eyes. "Why?" she whispers, her voice filled with anguish. "Who even are you?"

Sunday's expression hardens once more, the mask of indifference settling back into place. "It's our destiny," he replies cryptically. "You know the price of defiance"

With a final glance towards you, a mix of warning and challenge in his eyes, Sunday turns away, leaving you alone with Robin trapped in her magical prison. The chamber grows colder, the torches flickering ominously as though mourning the loss of hope that once burned brightly within its walls.

You grasp the bouquet of white roses tightly, the soft petals a stark contrast to the harsh reality closing in around you. The wine bottle remains in your other hand, its weight a reminder of the potential escape it offers—a fleeting hope in the face of overwhelming darkness.

Without breaking eye contact, you carefully uncork the wine bottle, pouring its contents over the delicate petals of the white roses. The rich scent of the potion mingles with the sweet fragrance of the flowers, creating a potent aroma that hangs heavy in the chamber.

Sunday's lips curl into a cruel smile as he watches you complete the ritual. "You are resourceful," he comments, his voice carrying a tone of begrudging admiration. With a flick of his finger, the dark magic surrounding Robin's cage dissipates, releasing her from her magical prison.

Robin emerges cautiously, her wings trembling with exhaustion and relief. She lands softly beside you, her gaze flickering between you and Sunday with wary apprehension. "Thank you," she whispers to you, her voice filled with gratitude despite the dire circumstances.

Sunday's smile widens as he approaches, his gaze fixed upon you with unnerving intensity. "Now that we have settled that," he says smoothly, his voice laced with dark amusement, "let's discuss the terms of our arrangement."

You feel a knot tighten in your stomach as Sunday's words hang in the air, heavy with implication. His proposal hangs in the balance, a dangerous game of negotiation and survival unfolding before you. Robin's presence beside you is a silent reminder of the stakes—her safety and your own freedom precariously balanced on the edge of Sunday's whims.

"You want to save Robin," Sunday continues, his eyes boring into yours with a chilling clarity. "And I can ensure her safety, but only if you agree to one condition."

Helplessness washes over you like a wave crashing upon the shore. You glance at Robin, her expression a mixture of concern and silent encouragement. Despite Sunday's dark nature, Robin's kindness and unwavering support throughout your journey resonate within you, a stark contrast to the cruelty and manipulation personified by her brother.

Nodding slowly, you swallow your pride and resign yourself to the bitter truth of your situation. "What do you want?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunday's smile twists into a smirk of triumph. "Marry me," he declares, his voice echoing through the chamber with finality. "If you want to ensure Robin's safety, you will become my wife."

The weight of his words settles upon you like a heavy cloak. You meet Sunday's gaze with a mix of defiance and resignation, knowing that this twisted bargain is the only path forward—a sacrifice to protect the one beacon of light in this dark and treacherous world.

"Fine," you concede, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "I'll marry you."

With a flick of his hand, he gestures for Robin to be escorted away by shadowy figures that materialize from the dim recesses of the chamber. Robin casts a pleading glance over her shoulder, her wings fluttering nervously, but she obeys silently, knowing her defiance could only lead to further harm.

As Robin disappears into the shadows, your heart sinks with the weight of her departure. You're left alone with Sunday, his gaze fixed upon you like a predator closing in on its prey. Instinctively, you back away, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

But Sunday moves swiftly, closing the distance between you with unnerving grace. He reaches out, his touch firm yet strangely gentle as he pulls you closer to him. His presence overwhelms you—his scent, a mix of darkness and intrigue, envelops you as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"All white, with a slight touch of red," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of revulsion and resignation washing over you.

You hold the bouquet of white roses tightly, its delicate petals a stark contrast to the dark intentions swirling around you. Sunday's grip tightens around your arm, his other hand caressing the flowers in your hand with an unsettling familiarity.

"You will learn to appreciate the elegance of contrasts," he continues, his voice low and possessive. "Just as you will learn to appreciate the intricacies of our arrangement."

His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You feel trapped, ensnared in a web of obligation and coercion. Despite the facade of civility, you sense the underlying threat beneath Sunday's smooth demeanor—a reminder of the power he wields over your fate and the fragility of your newfound alliance.

With a final, chilling smile, Sunday releases you, stepping back to survey you with a calculated gaze. "Prepare yourself.."

The air in the chamber grows colder as dawn approaches, casting long shadows that dance eerily across the stone walls. Sunday stands before you, his presence commanding and unsettling in the pale moonlight filtering through the chamber's high windows. His eyes gleam with a mixture of triumph and anticipation as he prepares to bind you to him in a marriage of his own making.

"We will not waste time with unnecessary formalities," Sunday declares, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. He steps closer, holding out a ring—a simple band of dark metal adorned with intricate runes that shimmer faintly in the moonlight. "This ring," he continues, his tone authoritative, "will signify your allegiance to me."

You hesitate, torn between defiance and resignation. The weight of Robin's safety presses upon you, urging you to comply despite the dread coiling in the pit of your stomach. Slowly, reluctantly, you extend your hand, allowing Sunday to slide the ring onto your finger. As the metal touches your skin, a chill seeps into your bones, a physical reminder of the bond you've just accepted.

"And these," Sunday adds, producing a pair of ornate handcuffs from the folds of his cloak, "will ensure your compliance."

The handcuffs gleam dully in the moonlight, their intricate designs hinting at their arcane purpose. Without another word, Sunday secures them around your wrists, the cold metal biting into your flesh. They tighten with a faint click, locking you in place, both physically and metaphorically, as his prisoner.

"You will accompany me willingly," Sunday states firmly, his eyes boring into yours with a

The journey through Sunday's realm is fraught with tension and uncertainty, each step echoing with the weight of the vows you've reluctantly accepted. As you follow him through winding corridors and shadowed passageways, Sunday's presence looms over you like a specter, a constant reminder of the bargain that binds you to him.

Finally, you arrive at a grand temple bathed in the silvery glow of moonlight filtering through stained glass windows. The air is heavy with the scent of ancient incense, and the stillness of the sacred space adds to the solemnity of the moment.

Sunday gestures towards an altar adorned with symbols of his arcane power—a place where rituals of both light and dark have been performed for centuries. "Place the ring here," he commands, his voice echoing through the chamber with a chilling finality.

With trembling hands, you comply, placing the ring upon the stone altar. Its dark metal gleams faintly in the moonlight, a stark contrast against the ancient stones worn smooth by the passage of time. As you step back, a sense of resignation settles over you, knowing that this act solidifies your entanglement in Sunday's web of influence.

"The husband may now kiss the bride," Sunday declares, his tone carrying a mocking edge as he approaches you.

You feel a knot tighten in your chest, a mixture of dread and helplessness welling up within you. Sunday's lips meet yours with a cold intensity, his kiss a stark reminder of the power he wields over you. Tears well up in your eyes, silent witnesses to the turmoil raging within your soul—the betrayal of your freedom, the sacrifice for Robin's safety, and the bitter taste of submission to a fate not of your choosing.

As Sunday pulls away, a faint smile plays upon his lips, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Welcome to your new life," he murmurs, his voice laced with a cruel tenderness that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stand there, trembling in the aftermath of his touch, the weight of your decisions settling heavily upon your shoulders. The temple around you remains silent, its ancient walls bearing witness to the unholy union forged in moonlight—a marriage bound by obligation rather than love, and a journey into darkness where every breath taken is a reminder of the choices made and the sacrifices endured.

Sunday stands before you in the moonlit temple, his eyes flicker with a mixture of amusement and something darker. His grip on your wrist remains firm, a silent reminder of your newfound captivity under his command. The air is thick with tension as he leans closer, his lips dangerously close to yours.

"You're a cute liar," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "Pretending not to enjoy this."

Before you can protest, Sunday's lips capture yours in a kiss that ignites a conflicted storm within you. His touch is possessive, demanding, and despite your inner turmoil, a strange sensation stirs—a desire that feels alien yet undeniable, as if someone else within you is compelling you to respond.

You find yourself responding to his kiss, your body betraying your mind's resistance. It's as though a force beyond your control is pushing you forward, urging you to surrender to the allure of Sunday's power and the twisted dance of dominance and submission that now defines your existence.

The kiss deepens, the moonlight casting shadows upon the temple floor as you lose yourself in the sensation. For a brief moment, you forget the fear and regret that gnaw at your conscience. Instead, a dangerous thrill courses through you—an intoxicating blend of fear and forbidden desire that clouds your judgment and muddles your thoughts.

As Sunday pulls away, a self-satisfied smirk plays upon his lips. "You see?" he says softly, his voice dripping with triumph. "You belong to me now, body and soul."

A chill runs down your spine, a realization settling in that you are no longer merely a captive of circumstance but a willing participant in a game where every move brings you deeper into Sunday's web of control. The tears you shed earlier seem distant now, lost in the haze of conflicting emotions that swirl around you like the shadows in the temple.

You stand before him, breathless and uncertain, caught between the repulsion you feel towards him and the inexplicable pull he exerts over you. The moonlight continues to bathe the temple in its silvery glow.

Sunday's demeanor shifts once more. His gaze hardens, the cruel smile fading from his lips as he assesses you with a calculating stare. Without a word, he gestures towards a corner of the chamber where a small, ornate cage sits nestled amidst shadows.

"You've proven to be quite the challenge," he remarks coolly, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "But challenges only make victory sweeter."

A sense of dread washes over you as realization dawns—the fleeting moment of compliance and the kiss shared under the moonlight were merely tools in Sunday's arsenal, designed to reaffirm his dominance and your submission. You step back instinctively, but Sunday's grip on your wrist tightens once more, preventing any escape.

Before you can protest or resist, dark tendrils of magic coil around you, wrapping you in an invisible vice that pulls you towards the waiting cage. The cold metal bites into your skin as you're forced inside, the door swinging shut with a resounding clang that reverberates through the chamber.

Inside the cage, the air is stale and suffocating, a stark contrast to the moonlit expanse beyond its confines. You grasp the bars, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anger. How could you have been so foolish to let your guard down, to momentarily forget the darkness that lurks within Sunday's heart?

Sunday watches impassively as you struggle against the magical bonds that hold you prisoner. "This is where you belong," he declares coldly, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Until you learn your place."

You glare at him through the bars, defiance burning brightly despite the helplessness of your situation. "You can't keep me here forever," you retort, your voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Robin won't rest until she finds a way to free me."

Sunday's smile returns, a mocking twist of his lips. "Oh, I have plans for dear Robin," he muses, his tone laced with malice. "But for now, you will remain here, a reminder of the consequences of defiance."

As you plead with Sunday from within the confines of the cage, desperation colors your voice. The darkness around you seems to press closer, amplifying the hopelessness of your situation. You know the dreams he speaks of—twisted illusions meant to erode your will, to bend your mind to his desires. Fear clenches your heart as you contemplate the horror of reliving those nightmares.

"Please," you implore, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "Don't do this. There must be another way."

Sunday regards you with a cold detachment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considers your plea. The flickering torchlight casts shadows across his face, accentuating the hardness of his features. His silence stretches, the weight of his judgment hanging heavily in the air.

Finally, he speaks, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Prove to me that you are ready to submit," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "Prove to me that you are willing to forget yourself, to embrace what I offer."

You feel a surge of indignation and dread rise within you. How could you prove such a thing, when every fiber of your being rebels against the thought of surrendering to Sunday's dark influence? Yet, the alternative—facing the nightmares that haunt your sleep—is a terror you cannot bear to contemplate.

Desperation drives you to search for a response, for some shred of hope or strategy that might sway him. "I... I can show you," you stammer, grasping for words. "I can... I can act as though... as though I accept your terms. I can... comply."

Sunday's gaze sharpens, a calculating gleam entering his eyes. "Actions speak louder than words," he observes, his voice a whisper of challenge. "If you can convince me, perhaps I will reconsider."

Sunday left.

...SOME TIME LATER.....

As Sunday returns to the cage, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, a chill settles in the air around you. The torchlight casts shifting shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the darkness that lurks behind his eyes. You shrink back instinctively, the cold bars of the cage pressing against your trembling form.

He stops just outside the cage, his gaze fixed upon you with an unsettling intensity. "You misunderstand me," he says calmly, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of menace. "I have been nothing but kind to you, given you every opportunity to accept your fate gracefully."

You shake your head, defiance warring with fear as you stare back at him. "Your kindness is a lie," you retort, your voice wavering but defiant. "You manipulate and control, using whatever means necessary to bend others to your will."

Sunday's laughter fills the chamber, a hollow sound that reverberates off the stone walls. "Ah, my dear," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Kindness, manipulation—what does it matter in the grand scheme of things? In the end, power is all that matters."

With a sudden movement, Sunday reaches through the bars of the cage, his hand brushing against your cheek with a deceptive gentleness. You flinch at his touch, unable to suppress a shiver of revulsion despite the warmth of his hand against your skin.

"You cannot escape me," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "Not now, not ever."

You pull away from his touch, the bars of the cage a barrier between you and the darkness that threatens to consume you. Fear and anger churn within you, a potent mix that fuels your resolve to resist, to find a way out of this nightmarish captivity.

"You underestimate me," you whisper defiantly, your voice barely audible above the crackling torches. "I will find a way to break free from you, to undo the web of deceit and cruelty you've spun around me."

Sunday's smile fades, replaced by a glimmer of something darker in his eyes. "We shall see," he replies cryptically, withdrawing his hand from the cage. "For now, enjoy your solitude. It may be the last peace you experience for a long time."

As the echoes of Sunday's departure fade into the stillness of the chamber, a heavy weariness settles upon you. The torchlight flickers dimly, casting a soft, wavering glow that dances across the stone walls of your cage. Despite your best efforts to stay alert and defiant, the events of the day weigh heavily upon your mind and body.

A creeping drowsiness begins to cloud your thoughts, your eyelids growing heavy with each passing moment. The cage, once a symbol of confinement and defiance, now feels like a sanctuary—a small haven where you can surrender momentarily to the relentless exhaustion that grips you.

Before long, Sunday returns, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. He stands before the cage, watching you with a calculating gaze that betrays no hint of the darkness that resides within him. Without a word, he unlocks the cage door and enters cautiously, his movements careful yet purposeful.

Gently, almost tenderly, he gathers you into his arms and carries you to the makeshift bed within the cage—a small cot draped with blankets woven from shadows and moonlight. The torchlight flickers overhead, casting a warm glow that softens the harsh edges of Sunday's features as he lays you down with surprising gentleness.

Suddenly you felt..weird

The creeping drowsiness overwhelms you, and as the weight of exhaustion pulls you under, you faint, your body going limp within the confines of the cage. The darkness engulfs you, a soft, quiet void where time seems to stretch and compress all at once.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted, the sensation of strong arms cradling you as Sunday carefully opens the cage door. His touch is unexpectedly gentle as he carries you, his voice a soft murmur against the silence of the temple.

"My angel," he whispers, his words a haunting lullaby. "Won't you be mine again?"

Through the haze of near-unconsciousness, you struggle to respond, the words slipping from your lips in a barely audible whisper. "Yes," you breathe, your voice fragile and faint. The acceptance, borne of weariness and a desperate desire to end the torment, slips out before you can grasp its full meaning.

Sunday's gaze softens, a strange blend of triumph and tenderness in his eyes as he gazes down at you. "Good," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Rest now, my angel. We have much to do."

With that, the darkness claims you fully, your mind descending into the depths of unconsciousness. The world around you fades, replaced by a void where only the echoes of Sunday's voice and the weight of your reluctant consent linger.

As you sleep, the temple remains silent, the moonlight casting long shadows across the ancient stone floor. The night stretches on, filled with dreams and nightmares that blur the line between reality and illusion. Somewhere in the depths of your slumber, a part of you clings to hope, to the faint glimmer of light that persists even in the darkest corners of Sunday's domain.

You awaken sometime later, the memories of your fainting spell and Sunday's words swirling in your mind. The soft, dim light of dawn filters into the temple, casting a pale glow over your surroundings. The cage door stands open, a reminder of the choice you made in a moment of vulnerability.

You wake up with a jolt, your body aching and your mind foggy. The memory of fainting and Sunday's words linger at the edge of your consciousness. As you shift to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through you, radiating from behind your ears. Groaning, you reach up to touch the source of the discomfort.

Your fingers brush against something soft and feathery. Panic surges through you as you explore further, discovering that wings—delicate and painful—are now attached behind your ears. Your heart races, and a scream tears from your throat, echoing through the temple.

The sound of your own voice startles you, and you scramble to your feet, rushing to a reflective surface. The sight that greets you is both horrifying and surreal: wings stitched onto your skin, the wounds fresh and raw. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you try to comprehend the impossible.

As you stand there, trembling, a familiar glow catches your eye. A halo, faint at first, gradually brightens above your head. The sight of it fills you with dread and confusion. How can this be? You gave up your halo long ago, choosing to become mortal for the sake of your daughter.

The realization hits you like a thunderclap: somehow, Sunday has not only manipulated your body but also tampered with the very essence of your being.

"No," you whisper, tears streaming down your face. "This can't be happening."

The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you turn to see Sunday standing at the entrance of the chamber, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Welcome back, my angel," he says softly, his voice filled with a chilling warmth. "I told you, you belong to me now."

"How could you do this?" you demand, your voice breaking with a mix of pain and anger. "I gave up my wings, my halo—everything! For a new purpose! How can you bring them back?"

Sunday's smile widens, a dark glint in his eyes. "Power, my dear," he replies. "The kind of power that transcends mortal limitations. I have given you back what you forsook, and now, you are bound to me more intimately than ever before."

You clutch at the halo, feeling its weight and warmth, a physical manifestation of the chains that now bind you to Sunday's will. Desperation claws at your mind as you struggle to find a way out, to reclaim the freedom that feels more distant than ever.

"Why?" you whisper, the question slipping out in a moment of raw vulnerability. "Why do this to me?"

Sunday steps closer, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently touch your face. "Because, my angel," he says, his voice almost tender, "I want you by my side. Forever."

As his words sink in, the reality of your situation presses down upon you with crushing force. The temple, once a place of ancient secrets and eerie beauty, now feels like a prison—a cage where your own power and identity have been twisted to serve Sunday's dark desires.

With a deep breath, you steel yourself, determination flickering to life within your heart. You may be trapped, your wings and halo restored against your will, but you are not defeated. Somewhere within the labyrinth of Sunday's realm lies the key to your freedom, and you will find it, no matter the cost.

Sunday's grip tightens around your arm as he pulls you close, his eyes blazing with a mixture of frustration and dark determination. With a swift motion, he pushes you down onto the bed, his weight pinning you beneath him. The feathers of your new wings rustle against the sheets, the pain of the stitches a constant reminder of your altered state.

"You are the delusional one," Sunday snarls, his voice low and menacing. "You gave up everything that made you special, everything that made you mine. I simply restored what you foolishly cast aside."

His words cut deep, the weight of his accusation pressing heavily upon you. But as you lie there, staring up at him, a sudden clarity pierces through the haze of fear and confusion. Memories, long buried and painful, surge to the surface, and you remember why you hate him—why you could never truly be his.

He was the one who killed your father.

The realization hits you with the force of a tidal wave, the raw emotion nearly overwhelming. The image of your father's lifeless body, the cruelty of Sunday's betrayal, floods your mind, igniting a fierce and unyielding rage within you.

"You!" you scream, the accusation tearing from your throat. "You killed my father! How could you do that? How could you take him from me?"

Sunday's expression shifts, a flicker of something almost like regret passing over his features before it is replaced by cold indifference. "Your father was a threat to my plans," he says dismissively. "He had to be eliminated for the greater good. For our future."

His words only fuel the fire of your anger, your hands balling into fists as you struggle beneath him. "There is no 'our future,' Sunday! You stole everything from me, and I will never forgive you for that."

A dark smile curls at the corners of his lips as he leans closer, his breath hot against your skin. "You can hate me all you want, but it won't change anything. You are mine now, my angel. Forever."

Sunday's grip remains firm as he leans in, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that is both possessive and demanding. You try to resist, but the power that emanates from him, the dark enchantment he wields, begins to cloud your mind. The rage and clarity you felt moments ago start to blur, memories of your father slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers.

Tears well up in your eyes as you fight to hold on, to remember why you must resist. But Sunday's kiss deepens, and the enchantment intensifies, erasing the edges of your thoughts. Your anger turns to confusion, the reasons behind your hatred dissolving into a foggy haze.

You cry out, the sound a raw expression of pain and helplessness, but the reason for your tears becomes increasingly elusive. Why are you crying? What is it that you are mourning? The answers elude you, hidden behind the fog that clouds your mind.

Sunday pulls back, his eyes searching yours with a twisted satisfaction. "Shh," he whispers, brushing away your tears with a gentle touch that contrasts sharply with the darkness of his intentions. "There is no need for tears, my angel. Everything will be alright."

You look up at him, the confusion in your gaze clear as you struggle to grasp the fragments of your lost memories. "Why... why am I crying?" you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Sunday smiles, a cruel yet comforting expression. "You are simply overwhelmed," he says softly. "The past is behind us now. What matters is our future together."

His words seep into your mind, and the more you try to remember the reasons for your sorrow, the further they slip away. The image of your father, once so vivid, becomes a distant shadow, and the burning rage that fueled your defiance dissipates into a hollow ache.

You feel a deep sense of loss, but you cannot pinpoint its source. The tears continue to fall, and you clutch at the remnants of your memories, desperate to hold onto something, anything, that can anchor you to your former self.

Sunday's hands are gentle as he cradles your face, his touch paradoxically comforting and oppressive. "You are mine," he murmurs, his voice weaving a spell of compliance and acceptance around you. "And I will take care of you, always."

Sunday's fingers trace gently along your tear-streaked cheek, his touch deceptively tender. His eyes, however, gleam with a predatory hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he speaks.

"Will you let me take you, my angel?" he whispers, his voice a silken promise of possession. "Will you become one with me, body and soul?"

The question hangs in the air, thick with the weight of his dark intentions. Your mind is still foggy, the memories of your father and the reasons for your defiance slipping away like a distant dream. Yet, somewhere deep within you, a small, stubborn spark of resistance flickers, refusing to be extinguished.

You swallow hard, your voice barely a whisper as you respond. "What do you mean, Sunday? What do you want from me?"

Sunday's smile widens, a chillingly serene expression that belies the sinister nature of his desires. "I want your complete submission," he replies, his tone both commanding and coaxing. "I want you to surrender yourself to me entirely, to let me envelop you in my embrace and become part of my very being."

Your heart races, fear and confusion warring within you. The enchantment that clouds your mind makes it difficult to think clearly, to remember why you must resist. But the small spark of defiance refuses to be snuffed out, and you cling to it desperately.

"Why?" you manage to ask, your voice trembling. "Why do you want this?"

Sunday's expression softens, his gaze almost tender as he strokes your hair. "Because you are mine, and I am yours," he murmurs. "Together, we can be powerful, unstoppable. But you must trust me, my angel. You must let go of the past and embrace our future."

As he speaks, a strange warmth begins to spread through your body, dulling the edges of your fear and uncertainty. The enchantment wraps around you like a comforting blanket, urging you to surrender, to accept his touch and his words as truth.

But deep down, the spark of defiance burns brighter, reminding you of the person you once were and the promises you made. With every ounce of willpower you can muster, you cling to that spark, refusing to let it go.

"I... I need time," you whisper, hoping to buy yourself a moment of clarity. "I need to understand."

Sunday's smile tightens, but he nods, his eyes still locked onto yours. "Very well," he says softly. "But remember, my angel, time is a luxury you do not have in abundance."

You gather your strength, your voice wavering as you speak. "My mom never came to save me," you say, the words heavy with sorrow and confusion. "Why didn't she come for me?"

Sunday's expression shifts, a dark satisfaction flickering in his eyes. He takes a step closer, his presence looming over you as he reveals the bitter truth. "Your stepmother never intended to save you, my angel. She gave you away to me in exchange for Penacony's land."

The revelation strikes you like a physical blow, your breath catching in your throat. The woman who was supposed to care for you, to protect you, had sold you off for her own gain. The fear that had been a constant companion now deepens into a gnawing dread, the realization of your betrayal settling heavily upon you.

"No," you whisper, shaking your head in disbelief. "She wouldn't... she couldn't..."

The weight of the revelation crushes you, leaving you feeling shattered and hollow. Your legs feel weak, but you force yourself to stand, each step a struggle against the pain and despair that threaten to overwhelm you. You walk slowly, almost mechanically, towards the window, seeking some semblance of solace in the world outside.

As you reach the window, the cold moonlight spills through the bars, casting long, ethereal shadows across the floor. You gaze out, the beauty of the night contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you. The moon, full and luminous, bathes the landscape in a silver glow, a silent witness to your suffering.

You press your hand against the cool glass, the stark reality of your situation pressing in on you from all sides. The betrayal by your stepmother, the dark enchantment that binds you, and Sunday's possessive control—all these things conspire to break you. The moonlight, once a symbol of hope and guidance, now feels like a cruel reminder of your captivity and isolation.

Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over as you stand there, bathed in the cold light. The wings stitched to your skin ache with each breath, and the halo feels like a mockery of your lost freedom. The moonlight reflects off the tears on your cheeks, making them glisten like fragile shards of broken dreams.

You feel utterly alone, the vast expanse of the night sky beyond the window a stark contrast to the confines of your cage. The sense of being trapped, both physically and emotionally, presses down on you with unbearable weight. The moonlight illuminates your sorrow, highlighting the depth of your despair.

you stand by the window, lost in your despair, you feel a pair of arms encircle you from behind. Sunday's embrace is both tender and suffocating, his presence overwhelming. His touch, though deceptively gentle, feels like a cage tightening around you.

Tears stream down your face, and a sob escapes your lips. "Just kill me, Sunday," you plead, your voice breaking. "I can't take this anymore. I can't be broken any more than I already am."

Sunday tightens his hold, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck as he speaks, his voice soft but firm. "I won't kill you, my angel. I care about you too much for that. Why should you waste your tears on people who never cared for you? Your mother, Your friends—they left you. But I am here. I care about you."

You shake your head, the pain and confusion swirling within you like a storm. "They were my family," you whisper, the words a raw confession of your grief and loss. "I loved them."

Sunday's grip remains steady, his tone soothing yet insistent. "They betrayed you, abandoned you. I am the one who has always been here for you, who will always be here. Don't cry for those who never truly cared. Be with someone who does."

His words are a twisted comfort, a dark promise of belonging that tugs at the edges of your broken heart. The enchantment he wields seeps into your mind, urging you to accept his version of reality, to find solace in his embrace.

You close your eyes, the tears continuing to fall. "I don't know what to do," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your sorrow and the relentless pressure of Sunday's influence make it hard to think, to hold onto the small spark of defiance within you.

Sunday turns you around gently, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that is both captivating and terrifying. "Let me take care of you," he murmurs, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Let me show you that you are not alone. You don't have to fight this battle by yourself."

The darkness in his gaze is tempered by a genuine longing, a desire to possess and protect you in equal measure. You feel your resolve weakening, the fight draining out of you as his words weave their insidious magic.

But even as you stand there, teetering on the edge of surrender, a tiny voice within you cries out for freedom, for the life you once knew. It is faint, almost drowned out by the storm of emotions and enchantments, but it is there, refusing to be silenced.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I need time," you repeat, your voice firmer this time. "Time to think, to understand."

Sunday's expression softens, a rare moment of patience and understanding crossing his features. "Of course, my angel," he says, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "Take all the time you need. I will be here, waiting for you, whenever you're ready."

He releases you slowly, his hands lingering on your arms as if reluctant to let go. You step back, feeling a mixture of relief and trepidation. The path ahead is uncertain, but you cling to the hope that somewhere within you lies the strength to break free.

As you look up at Sunday, you see a softness in his eyes that makes you pause. His expression is so loving, so tender, that it stirs something deep within you. For a moment, the pain and confusion recede, replaced by a fragile sense of safety. His affection feels genuine, and despite everything, you find yourself longing for that warmth, that assurance of care.

You realize that you are tired of fighting, tired of the constant struggle and heartbreak. Sunday has always asked for your consent, has always framed his actions as being for your own good. In this moment of vulnerability, you begin to question your resistance. Perhaps he truly does care for you. Perhaps it is okay to let yourself be loved, even if that love comes with dark strings attached.

Slowly, you allow yourself to be manipulated by these comforting thoughts. You lean into the idea that being with someone who loves you is what you need, what you deserve. After all, isn't that what everyone wants? To be loved, to be cherished?

You look back at Sunday, your resolve softening. "Maybe... maybe you're right," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Maybe I should just... let go."

Sunday's eyes light up with a mix of triumph and genuine affection. He steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "That's it, my angel," he murmurs, his voice soothing and persuasive. "Just let go. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be loved, to be cherished."

You nod slowly, the last remnants of your resistance crumbling. "Yes," you say, your voice steadying. "I want to be with someone who loves me."

Sunday's smile is radiant, his joy almost palpable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you were the most precious thing in the world. "You've made the right choice," he whispers, his lips brushing against your hair. "I will take care of you, always."

In his embrace, you feel a strange mixture of peace and surrender. The battles you fought, the resistance you held onto, all seem distant and unnecessary now. You let yourself relax, let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of his affection.

For now, you are content to be held, to be loved. It is a relief to let go of the constant struggle, to give in to the comfort of his arms. And as Sunday holds you close, you tell yourself that it is okay. It is okay to be loved, to be cherished, even if it comes at a cost.

The moonlight continues to shine through the window, casting a serene glow over the two of you. In this moment, you allow yourself to believe that you have found what you were searching for: a place where you are wanted, a place where you are loved.

And for now, that is enough.

"Y/n..I'll wait for you to accept me..So don't worry..We won't have to do anything..uncomfortable to you..Tho, Kissing is quite normal to us nowdays.."

"....Thank you.."

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

Summary: In the middle of exams and a diet of instant noodles, you decide to order some take out. What you did not expect was your delivery person to be a hot guy on a motorcycle, who, as fate would have it, happens to be a fellow student at your university.

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, NSFW, slow burn romance (?), Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo appearing as flat mates

a.n.: study date with Law, and Penguin spotting you two, getting on Laws nerves <3

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Despite your brief dive into his social media, the little information you’d gathered did reassure you that he was indeed, a med student. His profile was private, yet you could read his bio still. It barley stated anything, besides a stethoscope emoji and “North”. You also looked through the pictures he was tagged in and saw some posts with who you guessed were his friends. In none of the photos did he seem particularly happy—his face always distant, never smiling.

The snow in the background, along with his clear mention of “North” in his bio, made you think he came from the North Blue, a rich seaport country known for its scholars and wealth. It left you wondering how someone from such a place could have financial problems. If he really was from there, why was he doing food deliveries while in med school?

You guessed that explained his cold demeanor, though you weren’t entirely sure. Maybe it was more than just his roots—something deeper, more guarded. Law really was a mystery to you, you had to admit…

With a quiet sigh, you finally stopped fussing with your outfit and began packing for the study session. You tossed your things into your bag, grabbed your keys, and headed out the door. After a few bus stops, you arrived at the small café where you’d suggested meeting up. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a place you liked for its cheap coffee and soft music.

As soon as you stepped inside, your gaze swept the café, trying to find that familiar face.

In the far corner, away from the bustle, Law sat with a cup beside his laptop, his hoodie drawn low over his head. Strands of messy black hair peeking out, giving him a cozy but tired look. His long legs were stretched out under the table as he typed, oblivious to the world around him.

You inhaled deeply, steadying the butterflies in your chest, and made your way over. The excitement buzzing inside you was undeniable, you’d been so eager for today that sleep had been non-existent the night before. Somehow, you hadn’t expected things to get this far—having his number, meeting up. Even though it was technically a study date rather than a real date, which carried its own expectations, it still felt like a big step. The label “study date” took some pressure off surely. You didn’t have to worry about impressing him with small talk or charm, instead, you could focus on the shared exam next week. The thought was comforting—less about romantic interest, more about surviving this test together. Yet, deep down, the thought of sitting across from Law, even under the guise of studying, still set your heart racing.

As you approached his table, you hesitated for a moment, standing there, unsure if he’d noticed you. At first, he seemed unaware, lost in whatever he was working on. But then, sensing your presence, he paused and pulled an earbud from beneath his hood. He was about to give you a cranky look, yet when he noticed it was you, his frown shifted into a mild surprise, followed by a faint smile that made your heart skip. He straightened up slightly, his attention now on you.

"Sorry, didn’t hear you," he murmured, reaching for his other earbud and slipping it into its case.

"Don’t worry about it," you said with a smile, sliding into the seat across from him. As you placed your bag down and pulled out your study materials, you couldn’t help but ask, "What were you working on?"

Law watched you for a moment, his gaze following your movements as you got settled. At your question, though, he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes in clear frustration. His posture slumped as he sank further into his chair, his knee almost brushing against yours under the table.

"Ugh, nothing much really," he grumbled. "A friend of mine is writing his thesis and asked me to look it over. He added so many puns it’s basically unreadable."

You couldn’t help the grin forming on your lips, and didn’t notice how this first conversation made you relax quite a bit. It felt more natural to talk to him like this, as if you two really were just uni colleges. It was quite the contrast to the delivery Law you knew. And he seemed to be at ease with your presence as well.

“I really have to see the puns…can I?” You asked with a light chuckle in your words, as you leaned a bit closer in anticipation. Law rolled his eyes with a light grin and turned the laptop towards you. There were quite a lot of comments on the document you saw, and a lot of them just said “???” or “ew”.

With one slender inked finger he pointed at the screen “This one is the worst…”

You leaned in closer, your eyes skimming over the highlighted text. It read: 'In the field of marine biology, things can get a bit... fishy.'

You snorted, clapping a hand over your mouth as you stifled a laugh. "Oh my god, thats bad.," you said between chuckles.

Law shook his head again, a heavy sigh escaping him, though a grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he saved the file and turned his laptop back towards him. “Anyway,” he said, straightening up, “I’ll finish that misery later. Let’s focus on biochemistry now.”

For a moment, you wanted to ask about his friends, curious to know more about the people in his life and maybe learn a bit more about him too. But Law was already shifting gears, getting straight to the point. It didn’t disappoint you exactly—just reminded you that, despite how at ease he seemed, there were still walls up. He was private, and it was clear he wasn’t the type to open up easily. Even though he seemed comfortable around you, this was still a study session.

“Sure,” you said, snapping back to the task at hand. “Topic 8, right? I finished up those cycles... let me grab them.” You rifled through your bag, pulling out your notes and spreading them across the table.

Law’s gaze drifted down, scanning the pages. They were well organized—every chemical structure carefully drawn, names and enzymes clearly labeled, with helpful mnemonics in the margins. You had even highlighted key enzymes in a way that made them pop without overwhelming the page with color. He didn’t say anything, but you caught the slight flicker of something in his expression. Was that... approval?

He gave a small nod, leaning in to take a closer look. “Yeah, this part,” he muttered, pointing to a specific reaction, “it just won’t stick in my brain.”

As he spoke, he absentmindedly rubbed his cheek, before looking up at you with those intense, stormy eyes. For a split second, you forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly handsome he was—sharp features softened just enough by that calm voice. And here you were, supposed to be focusing on biochemical reactions, not him.

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together. “Uh, yeah, this one's tricky. But the mnemonic I used really helps—let me walk you through it.”

Law’s gaze stayed locked on yours a moment longer than necessary, and for a heartbeat, the air between you felt heavier than it should. But then, just like that, the moment passed, and you were back to studying.

This was definitely going to be harder than you thought.

After hours of intense studying, testing each other with questions you thought might appear on the exam, you both hit a wall. The material was exhausting, and your head was beginning to throb. Law, who was usually so composed, seemed more drained than usual. He kept rubbing his face and leaning back in his chair, while you let out a sigh every now and then.

"Think we're done for the day?" you finally asked, the weight of your tiredness catching up with you.

Law gave a small nod, looking equally worn out. "Yeah, pretty much."

Packing up your things, you both stood up and made your way out of the café. As soon as you stepped outside, you noticed the sky had darkened, and the evening had settled in. You zipped up your jacket, slipping your hands into the pockets to ward off the chill. Law paused for a moment, glancing down the street in silence, before he turned to you.

“Where are you heading?”

The question hung in the air, casual but with a hint of something else. You knew he wasn’t offering to walk you home—Law didn’t seem like the type to make those kinds of gestures. But if you were headed the same way, it wouldn’t make sense not to walk together. Besides, you had to admit, a part of you hoped your routes would match up, giving you a little more time with him outside of studying.

You nodded towards your direction. “Just heading to catch the bus.”

Law simply gave you an approved hum.

A small rush of relief washed over you as you both started walking together in comfortable silence. Law wasn’t great at small talk, but somehow the quiet wasn’t awkward. There was something reassuring in just sharing the space with him, without the need to fill it with forced conversation.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the void between you, yet got distracted when someone from behind was starting to yell.

"Yo, Law!"

The sudden shout made you freeze mid-step, and you turned around, startled. Law, on the other hand, immediately pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly recognizing the voice and not being pleased about it. He let out an annoyed sigh, his irritation evident as he turned to face the approaching figure—Penguin.

As Penguin jogged over, Law’s annoyance only deepened.

“Do I know you?” Law deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow at the young man who now stood grinning before the two of you.

You wished you could run away and hide immediately, trying not to admit that you recognized Penguin from Law’s social media. A sense of shame crept in—stalking his profile hadn’t been your finest moment, but curiosity had gotten the better of you. And now here you were, face-to-face with one of Law's closest friends, feeling oddly exposed.

Penguin, unfazed by Law's sarcasm, chuckled. "Ha, ha, very funny. What are you doing out here?"

Before Law could answer, Penguin’s eyes shifted to you, his smile faltering briefly as surprise flashed across his face. Then, as if putting pieces together, his expression morphed into a knowing grin that made your stomach flip. Law could see it coming a mile away.

He glanced back at Law with a mischievous glint in his eye, clearly ready to stir the pot. “Is this your girlfr—”

“No.” Law cut him off sharply, his voice cold and final, giving Penguin a glare that could have frozen water. “What do you want?”

Penguin raised his hands defensively, the grin still plastered on his face. “Alright, alright, geez. Just wanted to say hi.”

For a moment, you stood awkwardly between them. Law’s frustration with Penguin was unmistakable, but it was hard to miss the closeness between the two. Still, the tension in the air was thick enough that you almost wanted to step away and give them space.

Law rolled his eyes, sighing quietly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "Studying and reading over your thesis. I’m not finished yet, though."

Penguin waved it off with a casual gesture, looking genuinely grateful that Law had even taken the time to read through it. You were surprised by how civil Law was being—especially after all the grumbling he'd done earlier about the puns. But he didn’t bring that up. Not a single complaint. This brief interaction gave you a deeper glimpse into Law. You couldn’t help but hope that cold, cutting stare would never be aimed your way, even though Penguin seemed to be used to it and taking it lightly.

"No biggie, take your time," Penguin replied, still grinning. Then his eyes flicked between you and Law. "Hey, you guys walking home? Mind if I tag along?"

You felt a twinge of disappointment, secretly wishing you and Law could’ve had just a bit more time alone together, but you knew better. Penguin was his friend, and you couldn’t exactly say no. Law, true to his nature, simply nodded, giving you no real choice in the matter.

The three of you started walking down the street, the night air cool but not uncomfortable. It wasn’t long before you realized you’d have to split off, your route separating from theirs. From their easy back-and-forth, you figured out that they were flatmates, heading home together. When the time came to say goodbye, the parting was brief—Law’s nod short and polite, Penguin throwing you a casual wave.

You boarded the bus, your thoughts still lingering on the evening, hoping you'd have the chance to arrange another study session with Law soon.

As you disappeared down the street, Penguin couldn’t help but shoot Law a sidelong glance. “So... who’s she?”

“Uni colleague.”

Penguin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You never meet up with people from your uni.”

“Apparently I do.”

“Since when?”

“Since now,” Law snapped, his voice a little sharper than necessary. “Now leave me alone, for God’s sake.”

Penguin chuckled, but didn’t push further, knowing well enough that Law didn’t like talking about his personal life. Still, he couldn’t shake the curiosity. In the years they’d lived together, Law had never met up outside of classes with anyone from med school. He always studied alone, either holed up in his room or in the quiet corners of the library. Law had always claimed studying with others was inefficient, a waste of time.

Yet, here he was.