#green eyed snake

[greeneyedsnake]

GES Vol 5 Status Update:

I recently got a question about the Green-Eyed Snake series on one of my other stories, and I wanted to share my response here because A: I figure at the very least I owe you all some kind of an update, and B: I think there’s good advice there for fic-interaction in general. So, to answer the question will I continue with GES?

I don't know. I have stuff written, I have lots of stuff planned, but it's hard to actually write it these days because it's difficult to immerse myself deeply enough in Potter to write a story like that without getting thrown-out of the writing by my overwhelming disgust for the author. Spite helps, and I've managed to slog through a few sentences over the past few months largely on that basis, but it's abysmally slow. So I just don't know. Which is why I haven't really responded most of the time when people ask me about the GES series, because "idk" isn't a helpful answer for anyone I feel. But: I don't know. I want to, but it's hard. The world sucks, and she's making it worse on purpose, and it's hard to focus on working in her sandbox—even with the goal of giving her a thousand middle fingers with the resulting story—because it's hard to focus past the evil she's doing in real life to work on the story. Maybe if every Republican in America suddenly drops dead of shame and stops trying to slaughter genderqueer children, or Rowling yeets herself into an abyss or has an epiphany to maybe stop being irredeemably evil on purpose, or some other such miracle happens to make the world less awful, it'll get easier. But otherwise: I truly do not know.

I'll also say that opening an e-mail from AO3 and expecting to enjoy reading someone's comment about my new LotR fic, and instead getting this, does not engender motivation to write anything. So your tip for the day is to ask writers questions like this through more appropriate avenues in the future (tumblr, dms, one of the stories in the series in question, etc) rather than hijacking some unrelated story. And maybe remind us or something you liked about that story when you do. The few sentences I have been able to eke-out this year have all been inspired by readers commenting on some chapter of GES, because their enjoyment reminds me of why I liked that story, too. Whenever I am trying to work on it, I page back through comments and messages that people have sent, and that helps me swallow the bitter pill of JKR’s existence enough to write a few more words. Every nice (or even insightfully critical!) thing that anyone has ever said about his series helps, a lot. And I know objectively that people wouldn't ask "will you continue?" about a story they didn't like reading, but you spark no inspiration like this; only disappointment. The only reward fanfic writers get is to have readers tell them what they liked about their work, so if you want to encourage your favorite writers to write more stuff for you to read, that's the best way to go about it. Not this.

So: sorry for not saying anything sooner about the status of this story, but it was because I didn’t feel that I had anything useful to say. But that’s where we are: the story is not abandoned, it’s just being drowned right now by the weight of the world.

I do want to take a moment to thank you each and every one of you for the beautiful comments and messages and encouragement you’ve given me, though. I do want to finish this series for you at some point, I truly do. I just don’t know how, or when. But someday I genuinely hope to.

Thank you for reading, and I’m sorry to disappoint you.

[bearded-enby]

[starlitevening]

"We need a Mobius clone in Genshin" does Baizhu mean nothing to you

[jamessluttythighs]

have - jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 216  - 16 September

James and Sirius’ favourite pastime was to sit on the steps outside the library and pass judgement on those going in to study. Their university was massive so the pool of randos was always plentiful.

“Sick as fuck bag”

“Frosted tips do not work on him.”

“She needs to ditch the scrunchie, that was so 2016”

Oftentimes it just resulted in a big game of smash or pass. Or rather it was a game for James where Sirius just offered his opinion. Sirius was hopelessly in love with his boyfriend, Remus. They had moved in together recently after problems with Sirius’ family. James doesn’t know the full story. Sirius hardly talks about his family. 

“She’s lovely, look at her hair. It’s like a fire.”

“That’s Evans, she’s in my Physics class. Too bad she likes women.”

“Ugh, all the good ones do.”

“Hmmm he’s cute,” James tried again.

“Too many facial piercings for me. Are those snake bites?”

“Hot. Wait no. I’ve found the love of my life. That devastatingly gorgeous, grey-eyed god just behind him.”

“What the fuck Prongs?” Sirius exclaimed, his expression incredulous.

James, startled by this sudden outburst, tore his eyes away from the man in the dark green crop top as he entered the library doors. “What?”

“That’s my little brother!”

“You have a brother?”

[astaroth1357]

I have long wanted to write a headcanon where high demons have lesser forms, so take a walk with me on this:

Imagine that the brothers are fighting with each other and one of them takes a serious hit, like, somebody's left hook got them right in the jaw and it was brutal. They fall to the ground, stone cold, and... just. Poof into a tiny little critter. Like a verison of their familiar. And they can't retake human form until they've rested and healed their wounds.

I'm doing that.

Lucifer becomes this fat-ass, little peacock. He's like one of those rotund Chocobo from the Final Fantasy universe, you just want to pick him up and squeeze him but he's slightly too heavy for that. His feathers are black, save for the tail which have black, red, blue, and green markings. If something makes him "Poof!" then he'll hide away in the Castle because he refuses to let his brothers ever see him in that state. MC can visit him, though, and he'll coo and get all fluffy whenever they pet his tummy.

Mammon turns into a three-eyed raven, but not fat like Luci. He basically becomes a bigger verison of one of his familiars, he's about the size of an eagle. For being the second strongest he gets "Poof!-ed" rather often because he gets caught up in so many fights. Most of the time, he's just a bystander then some stray shot hits him and suddenly he's squawking everybody's ear off! Hilariously, he's arguably smarter in this form so when he's stuck as a bird, his grades actually improve (if anyone can read his actual chicken scratch penmanship).

Levi becomes a snake. Duh. He has similar markings along his back to the colorful scales on his neck in his demon form. He isn't even the length of your average scarf, so MC can drape him behind their neck easily and he doesn't get in the way. He's absolutely MISERABLE like this, though, because he has no hands to play games with. He can get extra clingy to people if he's feeling cold, but MC has to invite him to share their body heat because he's too shy to signal what he wants.

As much as Satan would love to be a cat, he becomes a little unicorn (Sorry, I didn't make the lore). He's about the size of one of those miniature horses, but don't be fooled. He will snap your kneecaps and he's at perfect height to rear-kick his brothers right in the crotch. His coat is black but his tail, mane, and the underside of his horn are all his signature green. If he every gets "Poof!-ed!" he's big mad, so he'll spend the entire time trying to kick and spear his brothers so they have to suffer along with him. He's the cause of a lot of chain "Poof!-ings."

Asmo becomes the smallest, cutest scorpion you ever did see. Well, as cute as scorpions can be. His whole body becomes hot pink and he has the biggest widdle eyes (think those jumping spiders who wear raindrops on their heads type energy). He's also venomous as all hell, so his brothers HAVE to make sure that they continously call him "small, cute, and adorable" lest they suffer a week's worth of paralytic toxin. He can fit the palm of a hand and makes MC tie a little bow around his tail so he doesn't feel too bad about being under-dressed.

Beel, unfortunately, becomes a fly. A big fly (by fly standards), but a fly nonetheless. You wouldn't even know that it's him if he weren't traffic cone orange. Literally everyone panics when he gets "Poof!-ed" because it would only take some bozo with a swatter to put an end to the sweetest brother... Belphie never lets Beel out of his sight and even has a tiny leash so he can keep track of him if they have to go out. He's a lot easier to feed like this, but everyone has to resist that automatic urge to smack him away from their dinner plates.

Belphie ironically has the largest lesser form out of his brothers. He's a cow, more specifically a bull, but there's nothing special about him aside from the navy fur. He is a full grown bull and he loves to lord it over the others if they all get "Poof-ed!" at once. Also, good luck getting him to do ANYTHING in this form. He is a bull. If he does not want to move, he will not be moving. Not even Beel can carry him like this. He's the only brother who doesn't mind getting "Poof-ed!" all that much because of it.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer protecting an artist reader

・❥ You left the hotel that day to go shopping, and you came back with blood splattered across your clothes

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

x: 13k words?!! this is why the wait was long y’all 😭😭 i spoil you too much

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, SMUT!!

“Uno!” 

“Damnit, Husk! Why’d you got to do me like that for?!” Angel Dust hissed, clenching the cards in his hand tightly as he stared at the freshly placed ‘Wild +4’ on the table in front of him.

“You askin’ a gambler to play a game of cards and still expect princess treatment? Please.” Husk rolled his eyes before taking a sip from his glass of brandy. 

“I know your games, Kitty. You could’a played that on Charlie when the order was reversed but saved it just for me didn’t ya?”

“Whatever you say, the color is green anyway.” 

Angel Dust huffed in annoyance as he placed the extra cards in his deck, muttering something under his breath. Besides him, Vaggie placed down a green card of her own, her eyes squinted with a look of concentration, calculating her next move. 

You were sitting a few chairs over, on the other side of the table. Besides you was Charlie, leaned back in her chair, only three cards left in her hand. She would be the last person to go before it was Husk’s turn once more. 

When they had invited you to play some cards, you were expecting something like Blackjack or Poker, not UNO. 

You were shocked they even had something like this in Hell, but in truth, it could become a very bloodthirsty game rather quickly. Not to mention, it was a cult classic, and it made sense for even the residents of such a place to still hold nostalgia for it even after their death.

Charlie had proclaimed it was a great bonding session while also helping to teach valuable skills like patience and communication. As being part of the staff, it was mandatory for you.

It had only been a few days since Lucifer kissed you on that rooftop, and your cheeks still heated everytime you thought about it.

Looking back down at the cards in your hand, you analyzed your possible moves. You had a good amount of cards still left in your deck, but the one you had been eyeballing was a green ‘+2’. Maybe that single card could help turn the tides, and someone other than Husk would win for once.

The spot besides Vaggie was empty, a small hand of cards laid face-down on the table in front of the chair. It was Sir. Pentious’ turn, but he was nowhere in sight. 

“How long has Snake Boy been in the bathroom? Somebody better go check up on him.” 

“Give him a few more minutes, I think it was the Mexican we had earlier coming back to haunt him.”

“Well if he doesn’t hurry, we’re gonna replace him with Niff.”

You ignored the other’s conversation, instead pivoting slightly in Charlie’s direction. You had a plan, but it would only work with the assistance of the demon princess.

“Pssst, Charlie!” You whispered, using a hand to shield your words from the rest of the players.

“Yes?” She inquired, leaning closer to you. KeeKee lifted her head from Charlie’s lap, and you gave her a quick scratch between her ears.

“Do you have a ‘+2’?” 

“Maybeeee,” Charlie answered, her eyes scanning her cards before landing back on you, “Why?” 

“If I put one of mine down, stack it with yours. That way Husk gets four!” 

Charlie looked over at Husk, who was sitting with his chest puffed, and a single card in his paws as he eyed the winners pot. Which was a couple of mints, a large candy bar, three dollars, and a coupon for a discount on movie tickets. 

There was a bag of a mysterious white powder in the mix that Angel Dust had placed earlier, but it was gone now. You assumed that Charlie had probably swiped it so she could burn it later.

Charlie turned back to you, her mouth downturned.

“But that’s so meannnn,” She whimpered, her eyes glistening, “Husk has worked so hard to get down to that!”

“It’s UNO, Charlie! It’s not a game for the weak. Husk only has one card and I swear if you let him win, i’ll- i’ll… I won’t paint your nails tonight!” 

Charlie grimaced, grief written across her face as she contemplated the incredibly tough decision she had to make. 

“Hey, you two stop plotting over there!” Vaggie glared in your direction, her arms crossed  “Pretty sure that counts as cheating!” 

“We were just talking about the weather!” Charlie quickly responded, before nervously biting her lip. 

It was then Sir. Pentious arrived, apologizing profusely before returning to his seat and picking his deck back up. He analyzed his cards for a moment, before quickly placing down another green. 

‘Damnit’, you cursed internally, ‘The color hasn’t changed, now it’s really up to Charlie.’

It was finally your turn, and slowly pulling out the ‘+2’ from your hand, you placed it on the table. You hit Charlie with a hard stare, silently threatening her with the loss of a manicure.

You two had been spending more time together recently, ever since she appeared at your friend’s art studio, leaving you to wrangle in a practically nude Lucifer for the duration of your class. 

After that, you were no longer worried about whether Charlie was unsupportive of your relationship with Lucifer. It was clear she wanted the best for her father, and his mood had been improving with you around.

Sometimes, while you were sketching out new ideas for your next project, she’d knock quietly at your door, asking for your assistance in matters pertaining to the rest of the residents in the hotel.

“I just wish Angel Dust would try harder to drop the heavy drugs,” She had moaned to you one day, sitting on your bed as she clutched a stuffed animal of yours to her chest, “I mean the drinking? Whatever, for now. I’m sure those in Heaven probably do the same. But, Cocaine?” 

She exhaled a large breath and averted her gaze, her lips pursed as she continued.

“I messed up big time when I tried to put my foot down for his sake back at the filming studio. Now i’m just.. scared to say anything about it, I don’t want to re-ignite any fire between us.”

You had nodded along while listening to her words, your fingers tapping against the wooden easel as you contemplated.

“Maybe you should try sitting him down and having a heart-to-heart with him?” You suggested gently, putting down your pencil.

“Express your concerns and offer your support. With the business he’s in and the.. culture that surrounds it, I have no doubt those closest to him are only continuing to perpetuate his, erm, activities.”

She regarded your words for a moment, staring down at her shoes as she let that sink in. 

“You could even take it a step farther and invite him to different groups or classes. There are many places around the city that do things like pottery, poetry, even shitty horse riding lessons. Maybe if he found something of interest, it would help in replacing those bad habits.”

Slowly, Charlie’s head started to nod, and she met your gaze with fresh determination.

“You’re right! It’s time for me to step up and be his support beam. If I can’t get him to make better choices, then what’s the point of the hotel? I’m sure the others will agree to help!” 

She crossed the room, and gave you a large bear hug. She squeezed the breath out of your lungs, but you only returned the hug, eager to show her your support.

Quickly, like she had done something wrong, she pulled her arms back to her sides and stepped back, creating a gap between the two of you. Nervously, she twisted a piece of her hair around her finger and bit her lip. 

“To be honest, I really enjoy talking to you about this kind of stuff. You just have this aura that makes me want to spill all my secrets, just like I used to with my mom...”

Those last few words that left Charlie’s lips were in a whisper. Your eyes widened at that. Did she regard you as a semi-parental figure now that you’ve slowly slipped into the Morningstar family? 

Her mother was a tough subject for her, since she had no idea where Lilith had scurried off to during these last seven years. All she had was the dream that her mom had left in her absence, and the will to enlighten the lost souls of Hell.  

You never would imagine replacing Lilith, for either Charlie or Lucifer. She was the Queen of Hell, their rock during the beginning of Hell’s creation. It was only natural she still held a piece of their hearts.

Slowly, you reached out, and gingerly took her hand. You squeezed it, a silent gesture of comfort.

“I’m just glad I can be your support beam,” You had conceded, “you’re doing such a great job with the hotel. Your ideas deserve to be heard, deserve to be tried. I’m really proud of you for taking such a large step, and i’m glad to be along for the journey with you.” 

It was then that Charlie’s breath hitched, her cheeks turned a faint shade of red, and her eyes began to glisten. 

You rushed forward quickly as her lips began to quiver, and pulled her into another warm embrace. She melted into it, leaning into your chest as you heard quiet sniffles originating from the princess.

“That is just so refreshing to hear, you have no idea.” She answered after a moment, before standing up straight and taking a step back. Rubbing the short trail of tears away, she sent you a warm smile before waving farewell and disappearing out of your room.

Days like that continued, where she’d ask for your advice or share the latest gossip around the hotel. 

“Jesus, Charlie. What’s got you so twisted? Play a card!” Angel Dust’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. Blinking a few times, you twisted your head in Charlie’s direction to see what the fuss was about.

She sat there in her chair, the cards slightly trembling in her hands, as she was faced with an uncomfortable decision. You swore you saw a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead, like she was deciding the fate of Husk’s life instead of the number of cards in his paws.

“I.. I just- Oh! I just can’t do it!” Charlie sobbed, before hastily pulling two more cards into her hand from the small deck on the table.

You groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead. Damnit, you should have known better. 

There was a chorus of groans intermixed with yours as Husker let out a loud, boisterous laugh. Slamming his final card on the table, he quickly reached out and pulled the winner’s pot towards him. 

He plucked out a mint with his claws before throwing it in his mouth, sucking on it loudly, letting everyone hear the tastes of victory.

“Yeah, yeah. Y’dont gotta rub it in.” Angel Dust muttered, before standing up and stretching his arms. After a few pops of his joints, he sighed, pulling out his phone. He grimaced as he read the words on the screen.

“It looks like Val needs me in the studio, I better run.” 

The group of friends began to clean up the table, shuffling cards before placing the deck back into the small box. Watching him leave, a pang of sympathy hit you. You couldn’t imagine being stuck in a contract, let alone as volatile as his.

You didn’t miss the mirrored look Husk gave as he too watched Angel Dust walk through the doors.

Rising from your seat, you stepped away from the group. Checking the clock, you realized you still had enough time to go on your resupply run before it got too dark out. You had your money on you already, so it was just a matter of writing up a quick list and walking out the door. 

Walking up to the front desk right next to the hotel entrance, you rummaged through the drawers before pulling out a small notepad. 

Placing it on the desk, you reached over and grabbed the pen from its respective holder. You began scribbling down different items you needed to gather:

Acrylic paint

Cleaning sponge

Extra palette knife 

Laundry detergent

Catnip 

Nail poli-

“Greetingsss!”

You jumped, the pen you were holding clattering back onto the desk. Spinning, your eyes land on the tall snake-demon resident, his fangs extended in an imitation of a smile.

“Sir. Pentious! You can’t sneak up on me like that!.” You exclaimed, exhaling a large breath to calm your nerves. 

His hood drooped slightly, guilt crossed his face at your fright. 

“Oh dear, i’m terribly sssorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to speak to you, only for a moment.”

You perked at his words. You didn’t know much about Sir. Pentious, he rarely had the courage to have a full conversation with you. He reminded you more of a mouse, then a snake. Always very polite, careful not to push others' buttons, and with a bit of anxiety. It humored you that he used to be a bad person, he was so sweet!

“Of course! What is it you need?” 

“Well..” He started, rubbing his hands in a self-soothing motion, “There is ssomeone I would like to pursue romantically, and, well, I wasss hoping you could help me in courting her?” 

“Oh, well- I’d love to but I'm not exactly qualified for that.” You laughed, surprise written on your face. That was not what you were expecting him to ask. 

“Of courssse you are! You managed to establish an intimate relationsship with His Majesty, the ruler of Hell!”

Your eyes widened. That’s why he wants your opinion? Sure, you did manage to bag the most powerful being in the realm. Someone regarded as cold and narcissistic by outsiders, but not to you. He was more than just his power and his fame when it came to what you loved about the fallen angel.

“Well, yes. That’s definitely true. But, it wasn’t really the conventional way. Lucifer is a.. colorful character.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Remember that art class I hosted a few months ago? Yeah, he was laying practically butt-naked on a couch in front of me the entire duration.”

“Oh dear.. perhapss you are right.” 

You contemplated his question, though. There had to be something you could give him that would help. Perhaps, to gift her something unique. That would prove his interest.

“Well.. what does she like?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Does she have any hobbies or interests? You are a very talented inventor, and some people really enjoy hand-made gifts. That tells them you care about them enough that you’ll sweat a little to make them happy!”

“Oh, why yesss! She is interested in blowing things up with her grenades!” Sir. Pentious squinted in concentration as he considered your words. His eyes widened as a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Thatsss it! I will design her grenades that do a better job at blowing stuff up!”

“Okay, I wasn’t really thinking tha-”

“Oh, thank you! You are such a good lissstener, I must come to you more often for advice!” Sir. Pentious took your hand in glee, shaking it vigorously as he continued, “I will ssstart working on it right away! She will be head over heels for me now!” 

You smiled warmly at him as he spoke. Though you weren’t expecting him to choose a dangerous weapon as a gift for whoever he was trying to court, at least you managed to help him in his endeavor.

“I’m happy you’ve found a solution! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do some shopping.” You turned away from him slightly, scribbling down the remaining item on the notepad.

“Oh, what are you getting?” 

“Just some art supplies and a few other minuscule items over on the East Side,” you responded, “I should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh, my! It’sss getting very dangerous over there recently! Are you sure you want to go?” 

You lifted your head at his words. That side of the city was dangerous now? Isn’t that where Angel Dust’s studio is? 

“What do you mean, Sir. Pentious?”

“A large group of thugs have moved in, causing all sssorts of chaos! It’s not safe to go out alone in that area right now..”

You pondered his words. You didn’t regard yourself as a master of any kind of combat, and you weren't exactly afraid of the mention of gang-members, but, gang-members from Hell? Those were the worst of the worst. 

It’s not like you could ask anyone to join you. Alastor was who-knew-where, Sir. Pentious was going to some kind of annual inventor show soon, and Charlie and Vaggie were off for ‘date night’. You were pretty sure Husk was confined to the hotel unless someone with authority could give him the go. 

Lucifer was busy at some kind of meeting with the other six Deadly Sins. You never pried him on that part of his job, he hated going so you assumed he hated talking about it. He wouldn’t be done for awhile. 

‘Guess i’ll just wait fo-‘

“You ssshould take my Egg Bois!” Sir. Pentious’ words broke you out of your thoughts. Those little egg demons that followed him around everywhere? They were cute.. but could they really protect you?

“What?” 

“I cannot take them with me tonight, and they are trained for all kindsss of combat! They will protect you against any threat.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you, but I don’t know if-“ 

“Nonsssense! I insisst! A payment for helping me today.”

You bowed your head slightly in defeat. You weren’t too thrilled about having to babysit a bunch of eggs, but you trusted Sir. Pentious. If he said his boiz could protect you, then you’d believe it. 

“Alright, fine.”

✧༺🤍༻∞

“Your eyes are so pretty!” 

“Thank you.” 

“Uh, Not-Boss? I have to pee!” 

“That’s why I asked if you had to go before we left, Frank, now you’ll have to hold it in.”

“Can we stop for ice cream?” 

“After shopping.”

“Yay!”

It was only when you arrived at the East Side Market did you realize how badly you needed a car. That way, your ear wouldn’t have been talked off for so long. 

It wasn’t too bad, really. They were very obedient, never straying from your side as you traveled across the city. They told jokes that were so bad, you laughed at how much they made you cringe. They had very good manners too, always saying ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’.

Just one more street to cross, before you’d be at the art supply shop. Your little group neared the busy intersection, the light still green for the cars that sped by. Halting at the curb, you looked down at the Egg Bois before addressing them.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s hold hands while we cross. Here, Frank, come over to the right and take my hand.”

Frank sidled up to you, reaching up to grab on to your pinky. His entire hand wrapped around the single digit, and you wondered how exactly these guys had black belts in martial arts. 

As the ‘Walk’ signal blinked, you strode across the road. Squeezing past other pedestrians as they walked besides you, your eyes always glancing down to make sure the bois were safe.

Walking past a few more shops, your feet rested in front of a large, pink building. A paintbrush and palette imprinted on its front door. Turning towards the Egg Bois, you bent down to address them.

“Alright, i’ll only be in there for a few minutes. Guard the door, please.” 

The cluster of eggs saluted you, their features serious.

“You got it, Not-Boss!” 

Giving them a quick farewell nod, you walked through the open door. Disappearing from their sight.

Inside, you zig-zagged through the aisles. Each was one specific to a different art form. There was a row that held webs of colorful yarn, and you saw shades you honestly didn’t even know existed. 

You reached the aisle containing the paint supplies, your hand skimming across the shelves as you searched for a palette knife. You needed a smaller sized one, that way your accuracy in texturing feathers would improve. 

Recently, you found your paintings were filled with more and more waterfowl and angels. It was a repetitive pattern that only refined your abilities on recreating such ethereal scapes.

Before, your work exhibited many sexual themes. It wasn’t that much of a bother, you were making good money and still doing what you loved. But, damn, did it get mundane. How many tits were you going to be forced to see in your lifetime? 

When Charlie welcomed you to the hotel, it was like a breath of fresh air. Finally, you could crack your knuckles to get your creative juices flowing. It really brought back a ton of nostalgia too, from your time living on Earth.

Placing a few more items into your basket as you walked, you began to head for the cashier. Hopefully, the Egg Bois were doing okay an-

Bzzt Bzzt

Your eyes shot to the phone in your possession. It vibrated softly as it buzzed, and you quickly reached for the phone. Someone was calling you. Without even looking at the name, you tapped the green button, and held the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” 

“Darling~” 

Your cheeks heated just hearing Lucifer’s voice on the other end, the familiar velvet tone like music to your ears. A smile formed on your lips as you stopped in your tracks.

“Hello, Handsome. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got done with that meeting with the Sins. Thank god.”

“Was it bad?”

“It was the usual. Satan can’t control his cowboys from causing trouble outside his Ring, and Leviathan just complains about everyone else getting special treatment,” Lucifer cleared his throat, before continuing, “so, I was wondering what you were up to. Working hard?” 

“I’m out shopping right now, actually.” You replied. You heard shuffling on the other end, like Lucifer had stood up.

“Oh, really? Let me guess.. your resupply run?” 

“Bingo.” You smiled. He was catching on to more and more of your routines as time went on. 

“Well,” His tone turned playful, you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, “lucky for you, i'm also out.”

“Really?” You questioned, with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yep, and actually-”

Lucifer’s voice turned to static, and you pulled the speaker an inch away from your ear. Was there a bad signal? You didn’t have enough time to think about that, before his voice returned crystal clear on the other end.

“-I think I see you right now!”

What?

“What?”

“Wow, is that a new outfit you’re wearing? It looks good!”

Slowly, you turned to the direction of the large storefront windows. Your eyes scanned the streets, looking for any signs of the fallen angel. It wasn’t until you scooted slightly over, to look past the large poster covering your view, did you spot the glint of pale blonde hair. 

Your mouth dropped. Standing across the street, looking directly at you, was Lucifer. He didn’t sport the usual overcoat and hat, instead he wore his casual red-and-white striped waistcoat, the sleeves of his undershirt rolled up to partially expose his forearms.

He also wore a pair of black sunglasses, which you found kind of odd. You’ve never seen him with any kind of eyewear before today. Noticing your gaze, he waved to you, slightly bouncing on his toes.

You quickly tapped your screen to end the call, rushing toward the check-out counter. You kept taking glances at Lucifer through the windows, your smile widening everytime your gaze traveled down his frame.

The cashier handed you the receipt, and you hurriedly ran out the door. You skidded to a halt at the curb, just as Lucifer crossed the street. He sidled up beside you, grinning warmly. 

“I’m really happy to see you, but aren’t you worried you’ll get, like, mobbed or something out here? It’s pretty busy today. Don’t most demons recognize you?” You asked.

Lucifer nodded his head, before tapping the sunglasses on his face. You wondered how they held to his face so well. Magic? 

“That’s what these are for, they mask my appearance to everyone but you. And, now that I mention it..” Lucifer trailed off, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of sunglasses, “here, I bought these for you.”

He extended his arm, holding the sunglasses towards you. Reaching out, you gingerly pull them from his grasp, turning them over in your hands. There are words etched into the side of one the arms, and your eyes widened as you read the brand.

“These are Ray-Burn sunglasses! How much did you spend on these?” You questioned him. Ray-Burn was a very high-end retailer, and they were a luxury you could never have afforded. Lucifer only shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t check, I just thought they’d look great on you.” 

Heat creeped onto your cheeks at his response. Your finger caressing the glasses as you processed his words. You had been checking out this specific pair quite some time, they were stylish and bold. 

“A work of art,” You had joked to Lucifer once, “They always come out with such pretty designs, one day i’ll get my hands on one.”

He must have kept your promise for you, and that made your heart flutter. Except, for the fact he didn’t need to do that. You would have loved any pair if Lucifer was the one giving it to you. 

“Why didn’t you just make one, instead of spending money on me?” 

“Because, you were eyeing this specific pair. While I have no doubt one of my versions would have looked fantastic on you. I can’t argue with your choice of style. Now put those bad boys on.”

Carefully, you slipped them on your face. You adjusted them slightly, centering them before releasing your grip. You blinked, the light hitting your eyes was much softer now, which was actually quite refreshing.

Lucifer whistled flirtatiously at you, “You look ravishing. Now, what about me?” 

He twisted his body and lifted his head up, posing like he was a cover girl in a magazine.  Puckering his lips, he lifted his brows at you. Waiting for your response.

Stupidly gorgeous, you thought, ogling him. 

“Perfect.”

“That’s right.” He agreed, nodding his head.

It was then that five eggs rolled into view. They bounced into one another, before standing on their legs. They looked up at you, before saluting.

Lucifer recoiled at the sight of them, stepping behind you slightly. 

“What the hell are those things?” He whispered in your ear. 

“My bodyguards!” You proclaimed with a smirk, pivoting to face him. Placing your hands on your hips, you eyed your temporary entourage.

“Ohhhh, I get it. Paint a few portraits and suddenly your top dog, hm?”

“Obviously. The Envy Ring has eyes on me 24/7.” You tried to hold in a laugh.

Lucifer smiled, before pulling you besides him. “Well, it’s a good thing I have you all to myself now.” 

He leaned forward, lips puckered for a kiss. Eyes widening, you quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, side-eyeing the multiple onlookers.

“Not in front of the little guys, they're too young to fill their heads with such things.” 

You felt air hit your palm as he sighed at your response, before pulling away. He turned his head toward the Egg Bois with a slight glare, and Frank walked forward. 

“Is this guy bothering you, Not-Boss? Want us to rough him up for you?” He raised his fists, giving the air a quick punch to display his combat prowess.

“Excuse me?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. You realized he was probably not used to lower demons like the Egg Bois speaking to him in such a manner. Even in a disguise.

“I don’t think he knows he’s talking to the big bad boss of Hell.” you teased, amusement glinting in your eyes. 

Frank’s eyes widened, he jumped back. It made both you and Lucifer reel back in surprise at the egg’s frightened reaction.

“Boss of Hell? You mean like Lucifer?!”

The Egg Bois behind him looked amongst themselves, fear flickering across their face. They whispered to each other, you could only make out a few words like ‘kill’ and ‘torture’.

“Haven’t you heard?” Frank continued, “He steals souls and drinks the blood of babies!”

“Oh, he does more than just that,” Lucifer started, stalking toward the egg-demon menacingly, “he roasts them alive to eat, and anyone of similar size!” 

The egg boi trembled, his little legs starting to shake as he listened to Lucifer’s words.

“Oh, golly..” He whispered with a quivering lip. 

Sending Lucifer a glare, you not-so-gently elbowed him in the side.

“What are you doing?” You whispered. Was he trying to make the little guy crack?

“Just keeping up my image, can’t have anyone thinking the almighty ruler of Hell fancies taking his lover for strolls down the markets!” 

You shot him another glare and Lucifer sent an apologetic smile. He slowly knelt down to Frank’s height, patting him on the top of his shell. “Don’t worry, little guy. I heard he prefers pancakes over scrambled eggs.”

Frank’s frown waned a tiny bit, his legs stilled as the panic subsided. The other eggs behind him visibly relaxed as well.

“And, who could ever eat a wittle adowable face like yours,” Lucifer cooed sweetly, rubbing the sides of Frank’s shell like he was trying to squeeze his cheeks, who giggled at the touch. Lucifer stood up, a smirk gracing his lips.

“Well, now that I'm here. That means you don’t need any bodyguards. Say goodbye!” He turned to you, snapping his fingers. Your eyes widened as the Egg Bois vanished in a flash of golden waves. You felt bad you didn’t get to say goodbye.

“You know, I did promise them ice cream.”

Lucifer waved his hand in a brushing motion, “we’ll stop and get them some on the way back.” 

You both continued to walk down the street, glancing into different shops as you set your eyes on something unique. Lucifer filled the time by continuing his rant of the other Sins. You listened intently, your knowledge of other powerful demons— apart from alastor, wasn’t very vast. He also mentioned wanting to find a gift for Charlie, and that got you scanning every display window on the street.

It wasn’t until the two of you stopped at a storefront and peeked through the glass display did you see something of interest. Across the hidden barrier, was a mannequin with feminine features, sporting a rather stunning red tuxedo with gold lapels. 

“I think Charlie would like that,” You smiled, turning to Lucifer, “she was mentioning a need for a wardrobe upgrade, and it would show you care about her passion with the hotel since she’d wear it for work.”

Lucifer pondered your words for a moment. He cared about his daughter deeply, but his relationship with her was still in the works. Her interests were still foreign to him, and he struggled with coming up with gifts for her, despite acts of service being his love language. Slowly, he nodded.

“What size does she wear? Oh, I guess it doesn’t matter. I can just adjust it for her. Are you coming in?” 

“I’ll wait out here, see if there’s anywhere else we can stop.” You replied. Lucifer nodded, before pulling open the front door and slipping inside. 

You turned, scooching as close to the wall as to not impede on the flow of pedestrian traffic. Your eyes scanned the other stores. Wait, didn’t you still need nail polish? What stores around here would sell tha-

Bzzt Bzzt

Your phone vibrated again. Raising your eyebrows, you checked the name this time. The words on the phone read ‘Charlie’ and you quickly answered it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but are you still shopping?” Charlie asked, her tone strange to you. Worried, perhaps. 

“Yes, I am. I’m almost done though, why, what’s up?”

“It’s Angel Dust,” She spoke quickly, “the last time I talked to him he stopped at a bar at the edge of the East Side Market hours ago, and now he won’t answer any of my messages. I’m just worried about him.” 

“Well, I’m at the East Side Market now. I can check up on him, if you want, maybe even drag him back to the hotel.” 

“Really?” Charlie said, her tone lifting at your words, “Oh, thank you! That would be great, please let me know what happens..”

You promised her you would, before hanging up. Just as you set the phone down, Lucifer exited the store. He held a large pink bag in his hands as he strolled towards you.

“Alright, where to next?” 

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Angel Dust is somewhere around here no doubt blackout drunk, and I have to go make sure he’s okay. It’s the club right down the street here, will you come with me?”

Sensing the urgency in your tone, Lucifer nodded. He laced your fingers with his before speaking, “if that’s what you want, of course.”

Quickly, you pulled him down the street. A large, dark building came into view. To be honest, if the figure of a stripper wasn’t etched into its sign, you wouldn’t have guessed it was a club. It looked like a run down industrial building, but the heavy vibrations from the music inside told you otherwise. A large crowd of people were standing up front, some held cigarettes or beers in their hands as they chatted waiting to enter. You couldn’t see a bouncer, maybe it was going to be easier than you thought to get in.

“I think this time, it’s your turn to go in alone,” Lucifer stopped at the doors, turning to you, “this crowd is a little too big for my liking..”

“That’s fine. I shouldn’t be long, i’ll be down here in a few minutes.” Your lips brushed his cheek before you reluctantly pulled your hand from his grip. Maneuvering through the crowd, trying not to bump into too many stumbling drunks, you stopped at the door. With a quick glance at your surroundings and Lucifer, you pulled open the large door and slipped inside.

Flashing multi-color lights hit your eyes as they lit up your frame from the other end of the dark hallway. Shadowy figures passed your peripheral vision as they danced. Round tables were stacked with empty drinks, with groups of partiers standing around them as they chatted and laughed.

The music was loud too, drowning out your thoughts so all that was left was the single mission: Find Angel Dust.

Quickly, you crossed the room, your feet stopping at the bar. You turned your head, scanning for any signs of bright pink fuzz. You found none, and your eyes instead landed on a staircase. There were multiple floors to this place? Hopefully, Angel Dust wouldn’t be far away.

A man at the bar winked at you, and you quickly turned away, hurriedly making your way to the stairs. You lept over multiple steps, until your feet touched a hard, wood floor. This area was definitely built for those that wanted to forget whatever shitty day they had come from. 

Strippers danced around large poles on top of platforms connected to each corner of the room. A wall lined with doors, labeled rather indiscreetly as ‘sex’ rooms, caught your eye. He couldn’t be in there, could he? 

“Y’know, my fur gets pinker the more you touch, toots. Ever seen a spider change color?” 

Your head snapped to that familiar voice. Angel Dust leaned against a wall, near the open doors of a large balcony. It was a dark corner of the room, and you would have missed it if not for hearing his voice. He looked really drunk, and you contemplated whether you were actually going to be able to get him out of here. There were multiple large demons around him, leaned in as they listened to Angel talk. They kept glancing at each other, before turning their attention back to the spider-demon. 

You didn’t like the look of them, their faces weren’t friendly and the scars across their skin made you nervous. It wasn’t until one adjusted their position slightly, did you see the gleam of a small dagger attached to their waist belt. You tensed, were these the thugs Sir. Pentious had mentioned? 

“Why don’t you let us take you somewhere nice. eh?” One of them started, scooching closer to Angel Dust, “get some more drinks in your system, relax, whatcha say?” 

You didn’t like where the conversation was going as you eavesdropped. You hurriedly crossed the room, throwing your hands up in the air as you walked towards them.

“Angel! There you are, i’ve been looking all over for you.” 

“Hot cakesss,” Angel Dust slurred in surprise as he turned away from the men and met your eyes, “What are you doing here? This ain’t your type’a place.”

“That’s because i’m here to get you home, buddy. Come on, you’ve had a rough day, doesn’t a warm bed sound nice?”

Angel nodded to that, before turning away from the group of feral-eyed men. He held a small shot glass in his hand as he stumbled up to you, holding it out for you to take. 

“Hereee, have a drink.” 

You shook your head, “No, I shouldn’t, we need to-“

“Cmonnn Hot Cakes, we’re at a club! I ain’t going until you drink.” 

You eyed him, before your gaze snapped to the liquor in his hand. That’s right, it was Angel Dust you were trying to drag home. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with the fact he was almost eight feet tall. With a sigh, you took the shot glass and lifted it to your lips. You threw your head back, downing the contents in one go.

It burned as it traveled down your throat, but slowly, the flavor hit your senses, and you blinked your eyes. You felt.. different, already. You looked at Angel, before setting the glass down on a nearby table. “This was actually kinda good, what is it?” 

“Amrita.”

“What?”

“A sex potion. Y’know, makes your juicy parts tingle, and gets ya craving for a strong man to come satisfy your desires. It works, I promise.” 

Your mouth opened, and then it closed. No way did Angel Dust just give you a libido booster. You put a hand to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut. Was one shot going to do much? Were you going to become a mess right next to Angel? Fuck, you should have resisted that temptation. 

You wrapped your fingers around Angel’s forearm, pulling him towards the staircase. “Let’s go, Angel, we don’t have time for games.”

He wasn’t able to take a step forward before one of the large onlookers pushed forward between the two of you. His head and body resembled that of a Great White Shark. His cold eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and you took a step back to widen the distance.

“Where are you two heading off to in such a hurry? You interrupted us earlier, friend. Us and the spider were just chatting about him joining us for the night. Isn’t that right?” The man turned to Angel, who only nodded absentmindedly. He mumbled something about never having any ‘real’ fun, whatever that meant.

“My friend here is too drunk to make any kind of decisions by himself,” You replied sternly, hoping your nerves weren’t trickling into your voice, “He needs to go home and rest, now if you’ll excuse me..”  

The man put a hand up as you moved forward, halting you in your tracks. “Your friend here is a big boy. He can make his own choices, and he chose to come with us.” 

You shot him a glare, before looking past him to see the group of demons slowly converge on Angel, who was looking at you with a mixed expression. As if actually deliberating whether to take your hand and leave this noisy place.

“Ow! Watch it, meathead!” Angel snapped as one roughly grabbed his wrist. Pulling him away from you, towards a closed door on the other end of the room.

In a flit of rage at their man-handling, you surged forward, yanking at the thug’s wrist, trying to get him to release Angel. “Hey, let him go! I already told you-”

The words died in your throat as you felt rough hands wrap around your arms, and the sharp pain in your back as you were slammed into the wall. Your eyes snapped up, meeting the shark-faced demon’s cruel gaze and he glared intently at you. 

“And I already told you he’s coming with us. Why don’t you take your little ass back downstairs to where the party is, before I make you.”

You struggled against his grip, but this guy was strong, and your strength was dwindling with every second you fought against him. “Let go of me!” You snapped.

“We should take them with us,” One of the thugs called from behind him as he pulled Angel farther away from you, “don’t want to risk them stirring up trouble.”

Your eyes widened in fear, and your gaze landed back on the demon locking you in place. He looked at his comrade, for a moment, before turning his head to face you. His lips upturned in a vicious grin. 

“Well, what do you think about that, Hot Cakes?” He asked, his grip still tight around your arms, “want to join us for a little fun? Come on, i’m sure you’ll like it. Especially with that drink in your system.” 

Oh no, this was bad. Really, bad. You had no chance against these guys, if only you could get Lucifer’s attention.. 

Suddenly, you were jerked forward, the man’s harsh grip dragging you along towards whatever lay beyond those sex rooms. You struggled, twisting in his grip. “Let go of me!” You begged. 

The heavy bass of the song as it spilled out of the loud-speakers only drowned out your cries. How the hell was everyone so drunk and caught up in their own world that they didn’t notice you being forcefully removed from the scene? The demon just ignored you, and as you crossed in front of the open doorway to the balcony, your breath quickened. Your arm reeled back instinctually, fueled by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“I said, let me go!” You screamed, clocking the shark-faced demon right in the jaw. He reeled back, a curse falling from his lips. His head snapped down to you, before he closed the distance, his chest bumping with yours. You felt your feet lift off the ground for a moment as he shoved you backwards. Your back hit the railing of the balcony, and you stumbled for a moment, trying not to fall backwards. 

The demon pulled you forward by your top, his hot breath hitting your face. His eyes a darkened shade as he fumed before you. “You think you’re top shit, huh? Think you can hit me and get away with it?” He snarled. 

Slightly turning your head to look below you, you realized the balcony was facing the back of the club. There was no one in sight, but you could hear the faint noises from the crowd in the distance. Was Lucifer still at the front door, waiting for you?

Your heartbeat quickened as you locked eyes with him, slowly, you felt him push you forward. Your body leaning farther and farther over the railing, you struggled against him once more. The only thing keeping you from tumbling over was his steel grip on your top. A pang of regret flashed through your mind. Fuck, you were dead. 

“Enjoy your night, Hot Cakes.” He chuckled darkly, before his hand opened, releasing your clothing, and your balance faltered.

“No!” Angel Dust yelled from behind you, his eyes wide in fear as your body flipped over the railing. The man turned away from you, stalking back into the club. The balcony doors slamming shut behind him. You flailed helplessly, letting out a scream as you fell.

As you plummeted, panic surged through your veins, every instinct screaming for survival. The wind whipped past your ears, drowning out all other sound except for the pounding of your heart. In that terrifying moment of free fall, you wished desperately for something, anything, to save you from the impending impact.

At that moment, for the first time in your life, you prayed. You prayed that if not you, at least Angel Dust would make it out alive and unscathed. 

‘Please, don’t let Lucifer find my body’ You begged, as the ground rushed up to meet you.

Just as suddenly as the fall had begun, it halted. Your body jerked to a stop midair, suspended in an inexplicable stasis. Confusion clouded your mind as you blinked. What just happened?

A soft chuckle resonated beneath you, and slowly, you turned your head to see Lucifer. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he extended his arms, a subtle shimmer of golden magic enveloping your form.

With a gentle motion, he guided you down, easing your descent until you landed softly in his embrace. As you caught your breath, relief washed over you.

“When you told me you’d be down in a moment, I didn’t think that meant leaping off the second story.” Lucifer teased.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, trembling slightly. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be a splatter on the ground. 

Inhaling his scent, you softened against him as that familiar smell of apple cinnamon and roses. Fuck, he smelled so good. Your face heating up as you breathed deeply, your thighs beginning to ache. Did he always smell so.. mouth-watering? It made you want to lean over and take a bite, would he taste as good too? He’d probably let you, if you aske-

Wait. What were you doing?! SAVE ANGEL. 

Your brain screamed at you, pulling you harshly back into reality. Was this that drink making you all mushy? Damn, it really was a potion. 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the fog in your mind as you stared up at him. Quickly, scrambling out of his grip. You took his arm, a pleading look in your eyes.

“You need to help! Angel Dust is up there, and he got taken by a gang or something! They tried to take me too, but I fought back. The-they threw me off the balcony!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in one breath, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You couldn’t imagine what could be happening up there, you didn’t want to.

Lucifer frowned, and you swore you saw his pupils dilate behind the shades.

“Who threw you off the balcony?” He growled. 

“The men up there, come on, we need to hurry!” You turned, but not before you felt hands wrapping around your midsection. You heard soft rustling from behind you, and upon turning your head, took in the sight of Lucifer’s large wings extended widely.

“Let’s take the shortcut, hm?” He said, before you both were in the air with a single flap of his wings. You quickly looked around, what if someone saw him like this? It's not everyday a demon saw angel wings, and multiple of them for that matter. Hopefully, they’ll just blame it on their drunken stupor.

Lucifer lifted you up the railing, and you slowly maneuvered out of his grip, your feet hitting the metal landing. He gracefully lowered himself next to you, his wings furling before disappearing into his back. 

Slowly cracking the balcony door open, you both peeked from the doorway. Your head snapped to each side of the room, no Angel. You scanned the chairs situated around the stripper stages, no Angel. 

It wasn’t until your gaze landed on an adjacent room, near a hallway directly to your right, did your eyes narrow. 

“See those guys over there? That’s them. There are a lot more now though. I don’t know where they took Angel, he could be behind that door at the end of the hall.” You whispered to Lucifer, who’s gaze intensified as he analyzed the group.

Tip-toeing back into the building, you stopped short at the corner. Just around the bend, you’d come face to face with your attackers.

“I can take them, no sweat.” Lucifer replied, full confidence in his tone. You didn’t doubt it, but could he fight them without risking Angel Dust’s life? 

“Okay, but I need to check the other rooms,” You replied hurriedly, “There are multiple, um, private rooms up here. He could be in any of them. I need to find him, before it’s too late!” 

You were about to turn away before you felt Lucifer’s grip on your wrist, preventing you from moving. Your gaze met his, but you couldn’t see what he was feeling behind the shades masking his eyes. The slight tinge of fear laced in his voice gave you a clue, though.

“You should wait,” He spoke soft, but firmly, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You shook your head at him, your gaze scanning the large crowd, before turning back with panicked eyes.

“It’s Angel Dust who’ll get hurt if I don’t find him quickly.” Your breath quickening with every second not searching for your friend.

Leaning forward, you grazed his lips with a quick kiss, “I promise, i’ll be alright.”

He looked at you for another moment, as if contemplating whether to force you to stay in the safety of his presence. He didn’t though, instead letting out an exhale of breath.

“Fine. I’ll distract them for you then, and try not to make too big of a scene,” Lucifer adjusted his sunglasses, before continuing, “but, if I don’t see you back here in ten minutes, there won’t be a club to come back to.” He threatened.

You sent him a reassuring smile, his protective nature making your heart flutter. There was no time for swooning now, though, you had a spider-demon to save.

“Oh, and take this. You know how to use one of these, right?”

You looked down at the object in his other hand, your eyes widening at the sight of a small pistol.

“Enough.” Was your only answer as you took it from his grip, adjusting it between your fingers. You weren’t going to ask him where it came from, instead just sending him a silent thanks as you turned away.

Quickly, you slid your wrist out of his grip, and hurried off. Lucifer watched you leave, your form melting into the rest of the partierers on the dance floor.

His gaze lingered on the spot where you had disappeared, before he turned towards the group of demons across the room.

They stood in a huddle, snickering between themselves near the entrance to a mysterious back room. Lucifer cleared his throat, and their heads snapped to him.

The dark corner they were standing in partially masked their features, but that bloodthirsty glint in their eyes was unmistakable.

“So, tell me,” Lucifer began, no hint of emotion in his tone, “Which one of you douchebags has a kink for throwing people off of balconies?” 

“Who the fuck are you?” A tall, shark-faced man demanded harshly.

“Oh, you know…” Lucifer responded, a slight growl dripping from his voice, “Just a concerned citizen.” 

“If you don’t slither back to whatever shit-hole you came out of, Shorty, i’m gonna make sure your last memory is my dagger between your eyes!” 

“Oh, I’ll remember you, alright,” Lucifer chuckled darkly, rolling up his sleeves as he stalked forward, the tips of his horns protruding from his head, “As the latest bottom-feeder who thought he could fuck with the devil.” 

The group of demons regarded him with a confused expression for a moment, their gaze bouncing between each other in silent questioning. Unsure about the stranger’s lack of fear.

The shark-demon turned to face them, his frown deepening as he watched them stand there like children waiting for Mommy’s instruction. 

“Well? What the hell are you waiting for!? Kill him!” 

Brandishing their close-combat weapons, five demons charged at Lucifer. Their menacing frames towering over the smaller man.

“Finally,” Lucifer grinned wickedly, before rolling his shoulders, “Some fun!” 

Fingertips igniting with a golden flame, he surged forward, meeting the oncoming demons halfway. The closest one gripped their axe tightly, before pulling it behind them. In a blink of an eye, they swung their arms forward.

The axe sliced through the air, aimed right at Lucifer's throat. It didn’t connect, as he gracefully leaned backwards, pupils dilating as he watched the weapon whisk right above his hair.

“Missed me!” He yelled playfully, before dodging another swing of a blade. A throwing knife whizzed right past his ear as he evaded the attack. It hit the chest of a demon charging behind him, who fell with a loud thump, their body twitched for a moment, before stilling.

“Missed me again! Wow, you guys suck at this!”

“How is this guy so fast?!” One of the gang-members yelled incredulously, before chucking another throwing knife in Lucifer’s direction. 

He melted into the shadows of the room and the knife hit the opposite wall, embedding into the cracked paint. The group twisted their heads around the area, eyes scanning for the vanishing stranger.

“You look tired!” Lucifer grinned behind one of the thugs, who pivoted with a yelp of surprise at his appearance. The mace in their hand beginning to rise for an attack.

“Why don't you—” Lucifer snarled and reeled back an arm, an enclosed fist at the end of it. He swung it forward and it connected with the larger demon’s stomach, a strangled gasp escaping their lips.

“—Sit down!” 

With a flash of golden light, the demon shot backward. He flew through the air, his back smashing into the window on the opposite wall. He sailed right through it, letting out a shriek as he plummeted towards the ground. 

The scene halted for a moment. Multiple wide eyes snapping from Lucifer to the large, broken window that their comrade had just exited. Pieces of glass scattered across the room were the only remnants of the crime.

“Holy shit..” one muttered quietly in shock, fear etched onto his features. He dropped the weapon in his hand, and scurried off towards the staircase leading out of the club. 

“That’s called karma, bitch!” Lucifer laughed. He stood in the same position he had punched the guy, casually brushing off a few specks of dirt from his sleeves. Adjusting his sunglasses once more, he surveyed the rest of the demons.

“Who’s next?” he grinned. 

The gang-members exchanged nervous glances. Some withdrew a few steps, a few tightened their grip on their weapon with calculating glares. None made the first move.

“Alright then,” Lucifer hummed, “Guess i’ll just have to pick.” 

Snapping his fingers, a whip appeared in his hand. A long, thin wire coated in golden flames dragged across the floor. Scorch marks trailed behind as he slowly stalked forward. With another burst of magic, the room filled with thick, gray fog. To any demon that would walk into the room, they’d probably just think it was the fog machine acting up.

“Eeny..” He started.

Right as the bass dropped, and the floor vibrated beneath his feet, Lucifer cracked the whip. It shot forward, slashing one demon right in the throat. Blood spurted from the gash, and with a few gurgled screams, the demon face-planted onto the floor.

The room went into a panic, as the gang-members frantically searched for the way out of the dense fog. One ran straight into a wall, knocking him unconscious as he slid down the side of it.

“Meeny..”

The music drowned out the whip once more as it curled around the foot of a wolf-built demon, with a harsh tug, the demon clawed for something to grab before he was thrown out the now-broken window. He screams echoing in a mirrored symphony of the last.

“Miny..” 

The whip evaporated from Lucifer’s hand, as he charged an unsuspecting gang-member. They pivoted in his direction, right as he wrapped his hands around their throat. Golden tendrils seeped from under Lucifer’s sleeves, and curled tightly the demon’s neck. With a snap of his wrist, the thug’s head twisted an un-natural angle, and he fell backwards. 

Landing softly in front of the body, Lucifer’s eyes narrowed on the area in front of him. The fog cleared, and the only one left standing was the leader of the gang. His eyes were dark, his teeth bared as his gaze traveled across the broken bodies of his comrades. His rage was going to be the death of him. 

“I’m tired of this shit. Let’s finish this, Pipsqueak!” The Shark-demon roared. Reaching behind him, the gang leader carefully pulled a large, silver machete from the sheath strapped to his back. 

This one was rather different, though. It was laced with shimmering white etchings, that pooled at the tip of the blade. 

Angelic steel.

Lucifer only grinned widely at the sight. Before planting his feet firmly into the ground, the demon would regret thinking he had the upper hand. He should have ran when he had the chance. 

In a flash, Lucifer’s wings unfurled. Bathing the room in a red glow as the tips of his flight feathers grazed the opposite walls. The shark-demon’s eyes widened, his stance faltered for a moment, but the grip of the blade tightened.

“Moe.” Was all Lucifer uttered, and with a large beat of his wings, shot straight for the demon. With a battle cry, the leader raised the machete high, ready to slash at the fallen angel.

At the last second, Lucifer ducked, curling his wings around himself as he evaded the blade and slammed right into the shark’s chest. The heavy blow knocked the demon backwards, and the weapon flew from his grip. 

Reaching out an arm, Lucifer snatched it, turning it on its user. With a downward swipe, he planted the blade right into the fucker’s heart. The demon’s knees hit the floor, as blood dripped from his mouth, the life fading from his eyes.

“This is to make sure you keep your filthy hands off what doesn’t belong to you,” he snarled in the demon’s ear, “know you died simply because your mama’s manners never rubbed off on you.” 

Lucifer stood there for a moment, on the dead man’s corpse. His breath heavy as the thick scent of blood and pain filled his nostrils. He may have descended from the Heavens, but ruling a place like this for so long can really turn a guy feral when it comes to protecting the ones he loves most.

With his wings disappearing back into his frame, Lucifer turned towards the closed door. With a flick of his wrist, it slammed open, and he took a step inside. 

It was empty, stacks of cash laid strewn on the table before him. Bottles of empty liquor sat on the small bar across the room. It seemed like a hideout for the gang, but Lucifer deathly was aware of the silence. There was no Angel Dust, which meant..

A moment of panic overtook him as he backtracked out of the room, his eyes feverishly searching for you. Were you okay? Did they hurt you? It had been long enough, you should have been back by now. He bolted out of the hallway, pushing through the crowd of drunken partiers.

He needed to find you, before it was too late.

✧༺🤍༻∞

Your feet skidded to a halt in front of the first private room. The line of doors sat in an adjacent room to the dance floor, away from the prying eyes of club-goers. The sign on the door indicated it to you as it was occupied. You took a deep breath, before gripping the handle. 

You yanked open the door, taking in the unwanted sight of two demons naked on the bed. Their heads snapped up, eyes wide at your intrusion.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!!” You screamed to them, covering your eyes.

“It’s okay, Sugar. You can join us if you want!” One yelled at you flirtatiously. 

“No thanks!” You replied as you scurried away, your gaze already zone in on the next room. Jiggling the handle, you found it locked tightly.

You placed an ear to the door, straining for any sounds. Angel was in one of these rooms and you’d make sure he’d come out unscathed.

“Get the fuck off me, you murderer!” You heard a familiar, muffled voice yell behind the door.

Fear gripped at your heart as you recognized his cry. Your head whipped to the bar closest to you, searching for something you could use to break through. Besides the shelf of bottles was a fire extinguisher, bolted to the wall. 

You rushed forward, scanning the area for any signs of the bartender, before grasping the handle tightly. Using all your strength, you pulled it towards you. It snapped off its hinges and caused you to stumble backwards from the force, clutching it to your chest. 

Your head snapped back to the door and you crossed the room. You lifted the fire extinguisher above your head, and waited. Just as the beat dropped, and the speakers filled the room with deafening bass, you smashed the red canister against the handle.

It flew off, skidding across the floor. You dropped the extinguisher, before picking the pistol back up. Lifting your leg, you used all your strength to kick the door open, revealing the scene inside. The scene before you was chilling—Angel, bound to the bed with his clothes slightly torn, struggling against a demon holding him down. Without hesitation, you raised the pistol, aiming it at the demon's head.

"Let him go," you commanded, your voice trembling with fury and determination. 

The demon’s eyes widened at the weapon aimed at his face, before quickly reaching his hands in the air to surrender. “Let’s watch where you point that thing, now.” He joked darkly. 

"Get the fuck out." you snarled, your voice low and threatening. You weren’t sure whether you had the strength to actually pull the trigger, nor did you want to further traumatize Angel Dust.

The demon backed up to the wall slowly, tip-toeing around you as you turned on your heels to continue facing him, the gun never leaving it’s sight of the man. After reaching the door, he quickly fled with his tail between his legs. 

Breathing heavily, you rushed to Angel's side, helping him stand. "We need to get out of here," you said urgently, glancing around for any other threats. 

Angel Dust’s eyes widened at the sight of you, his mouth opened in shock. “I-I thought they killed you!” He sputtered, gripping your arms tightly as his hands came free from the bindings. He looked like he was about to burst into tears. 

It was then that another figure barreled into the room, eyes wide and panic in their voice as they called out for you. You turned sharply, gun drawn once more, aimed right at.. Lucifer’s face. This time without the sunglasses blocking those pretty eyes of his.

Your shaking hands loosened around the gun at the realization, and it dropped to the floor at your feet. 

You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was okay! Of course he was, but that didn’t mean your mind wasn’t racing with worry for his sake. It was the other way around too, as Lucifer returned the hug ten fold. You could feel his rapid breath against your neck as he melted slightly into you. The worry fading from his eyes, as he gave you once over for any injuries.

“About time, you dick!” Angel muttered besides you, rubbing his wrists where the rope marks were no doubt beginning to bruise beneath his fuzzy. He seemed offley sober now, unlike you, who’s mind was still a bit fuzzy from the Amrita. 

Releasing Lucifer slowly, you stood up, turning back to Angel Dust. He was relatively untouched, it seems you made it just in time.

“Those thugs are taken care of,” Lucifer began, his pupils still dilated to slits as he hissed out the words, “they won’t bother you anymore, although, i’d recommend you stay away from this place from now on.”

Angel Dust nodded besides you, “Y’dont gotta tell me twice. Now, how about we use some of that sick teleportation magic of yours and get the fuck outta here?” 

“That sounds really nice, right about now.” You breathed, a faint smiling appearing on your lips.

You turned towards Lucifer, but a shadowy figure behind him caught your attention. In the doorway, a demon bleeding profusely from his side glared daggers into Lucifer’s back. Raising an arm, you caught the sight of a silver-tipped pistol lifting to aim right at his head.

“Watch out!” You screamed. Instinctually, you shoved Lucifer aside, positioning yourself between the gun and your love. Lucifer’s head snapped in your direction, and his eyes widened as they turned a midnight-red.

“Wait, no-!”

Lucifer started, pulling you close to him, right as the thug pulled the trigger. You heard the sickly pop as the gun fired and squeezed your eyes shut. 

You saw a flash of golden light behind your eyelids, and felt your feet lifted off the ground. You felt a cool breeze hit your face, with the familiar feeling of floating midair. Were you being teleported?

Suddenly, your back hit the hardwood floor of your room in the hotel and your head bounced on the ground. Pain seared through your body as you landed harshly, and you were knocked unconscious. 

Lucifer’s face appeared before yours, his eyes searching for signs of life. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared down at your motionless form. Panic clawed at his insides, threatening to consume him entirely. He reached out trembling hands, fingers shaking as they brushed against your cheek, desperately searching for any hint of warmth. Did the bullet hit you? If it was truly an angelic weapon, there was no chance to save you.

"No," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please, no."

Your eyes flew open, and you shot up from the ground, gasping. Taking in the sight of your atelier, with its canvases strewn across your room, you turned to face Lucifer. Relief flooded his entire being as he watched you awaken. 

A wide smile spread across his face, breaking through the darkness that had threatened to engulf him moments before. "You're alive," he breathed, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. He scanned your body for any blood or injury, and found none.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. "I thought I lost you," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "But you're here. You're safe."

“Angel Dust?” You asked hoarsely.

“Fine. I dropped him in the lobby.”

He held you for a moment longer, before pushing you back. Your breath hitched, watching him. His teeth were bared, his eyes still dark as he regarded you.

“What were you thinking? Trying to save me?”

“What was I supposed to do?! Let the bullet hit you?” 

“Yes!” He snapped, before he closed his eyes, and his features softened. He hung his head, averting his gaze. 

“Your life is much more important than a few holes in my body. I would gladly lay down my life for you or Charlie, I don’t care about the circumstances.”

You wanted to retort, tell him how stupid he is for saying such things. Instead, you sidled up to him. Your knees gently grazed his own, and you took his hand.

“And what about you, hm? Do you think your wellbeing doesn’t matter? You may be a super powerful fallen angel, but you’re still my super powerful angel. You can’t just run off and die and think nobody is going to care.”

Lucifer hummed softly, his head tilting at your words. A smile formed on his lips as he listened. He hadn’t heard anyone speak to him like that in a very long time.

You took in the sight of the most powerful being in the realm. His hair disheveled with sweat beading down his forehead, as the soft red glow from the window lit up his features. You sat there, drinking in his presence. He looked absolutely beautiful, breathtaking even. Watching him practically come apart at the very thought of seeing your lifeless body, it awakened something in you. The driving urge to claim him, once and for all. To make him yours, forever. 

The thought of him defending you, in a way no one ever has before, made you horny. A primitive urge that’s sat dormant since you were first born. 

Is this how the lioness on TV felt when she watched her man tear into a pack of hyenas to protect her and her cubs? Maybe, you were finally understanding it.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, or that damn drink playing with your head, but the heat that slowly crept from between your thighs was unmistakable.

You wanted him so fucking badly.

“What?” Lucifer’s eyes snapped up to you, surprise written on his face.

Shit, did he hear that?

“.. I want you, Lucifer,” You whispered, “I want your heart, your mind.. and your body.”

He tensed, and you hoped he understood what you were implying. But it wasn’t long before you felt strong hands pushing you backwards. You laid back slightly, using your arms to support your upper body. Lucifer kneeled in front of you, his pupils practically invisible as he pulled off his shirt. 

You sent him a sultry smirk, before Lucifer closed the distance, climbing on top of you. Gripping at your top, he pulled it from your frame, leaving you bare-chested as well. His eyes traveled down your nude body, as if he was memorizing every crevice and line in your skin. 

You felt a slight bulge in his pants as he kneeled above you, and you bucked your hips. Hearing a hiss of pleasure escape him. 

You leaned forward, taking his lips in a passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, using his weight to keep you upright as your teeth grazed his lip. Lucifer broke from your mouth, trailing quick pecks down to your throat. He placed a wet sloppy kiss in the crook of your neck, and your eyes rolled back with pleasure.

You moaned as his lips trailed down father, in the valley of your chest, and down to your waist. Gripping your lower garments, he tugged them free. You sat back, legs spread as you allowed him to do as he wished. 

He stopped suddenly, and looked up at you with those pretty yellow eyes of his. 

"Are you sure about thi-" He started to say softly, but you cut him off.

"I’ve never been more sure." you said, your hands caressing the side of his face.

He smirked before picking you up, which was no effort, considering the angelic strength he held. He laid you gently on the dining table and trailed kisses down your body once more. The only piece of clothing you had left was the one that covered your nether regions.

"Oh, Luci," you moaned as he slowly took off your underwear. He kissed the inside of your thighs, teasing you before pulling away. You glared at him, and he sent you a smirk, before taking your mouth in another kiss. 

“You’re mine,” He muttered, lapping at your collarbone, “no demon, angel, or any other being in creation will ever come between us. Not a single soul will ever wish you harm and lay their filthy hands on you again.”

You felt his erect manhood pressing against your entrance. You hadn’t realized he had fully removed his clothes until you felt his nakedness against you.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned. You jerked your hips against his, teasing his tip into you. He shuddered for a moment, before stilling.

You bit your lip and gave him a sultry grin. That was all the encouragement he needed; with a single, long thrust, he surged inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Desperate to have him closer, you hooked your legs around his back and pressed your heels against his ass. 

“More.” You moaned, and he obliged, thrusting again. Your legs trembled at the sensation.

You felt a growl— or maybe a purr— resonate from his chest. Your audible sounds of pleasure only further spurred the intensity of his thrusts, as he slammed into you harder and harder. 

You screamed his name loudly as you came, bliss blooming across your body. He didn't wait for you to come down from you high as he continued his thrusting. With him in control of you now, he was hitting your insides from an incredibly pleasurable angle, and even before your first climax ended, you felt another one rising within.

You tightened your thighs around his back as you came again, your walls flexing around his cock and gripping it so tightly you could feel it pulsing inside you. You both stilled for a moment, and you felt him starting to lean against you. 

Except, you weren’t quite done yet. Now, it was your turn.

Sitting up straight, you moved your leg forward and pushed him backwards with your toes. He stumbled and limply sank into the chair behind him, his hair coated to his face with sweat, his half-lidded eyes watching you intensely.

Your feet hit the cold floor, a rather refreshing feeling from the burning within you, as you sauntered over to him. Taking a finger, you let it graze the underside of his chin, lifting his head to meet your gaze. 

“You’re such a good boy,” You whispered, your voice like honey to Lucifer’s ears, “always doing what you’re told. Never fussing. Good boys deserve a reward, don’t you think?” 

You swore you heard him whimper, and that surprised you. The big boss of hell, coming undone beneath you before you even began. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you lowered yourself.

You slowly sank onto his length, your ass meeting his thighs as you accepted all of him. Slowly, you grinded your hips, and he whimpered again. It was a musical sound, and it made you desperate to hear what else could come from that pretty mouth of his.

Using your legs to strengthen your movements, you bounced atop him. Every smack of your ass against his skin sent you deeper into ecstasy. Leaning your head down, you bit his shoulder as another wave of pleasure hit you. He moaned beneath you, and you bit him again, lapping at the teeth marks left in your wake.

You felt his breath hitch as you came down with more intensity, his own climax nearing. You increased your pace, and felt his waist lifting to meet you as you descended upon him again. His grip around your midsection tightened, his claws digging in your skin as he threw his head back, a moan of pleasure escaping his lips. 

Heat blossomed from your stomach and you let out a breathless gasp as you reached your own climax. Your body trembling from the intensity, as you collapsed into his arms. 

Breathing hard, you both sat there for a moment, before you lifted up your head and used your hand to push his curls back that were plastered to his face. You wanted to see those pretty eyes of his in their full glory. The look he gave you was of such adoration you wanted to cry. 

Have you ever felt this loved before?

“Stay with me tonight, won’t you?” You pleaded with doe-eyes. He smiled, pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his skin turning you to liquid against his touch.

“Anything for you,” He whispered into your ear. 

His wings unfurled, and you felt them curl around your naked body. Your eyes began to close, and Lucifer’s gentle hums lulled you into a state of blissful sleep as you sank further into his chest.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I hope that wasn’t too long of a fic, but in my defense i need it that long for my writing 😩 This part had me studying over on wattpad to get the smut accurate lmaoooo

lmk what you think!!

Tag list: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee

[lordprettyflackotara]

snakelike || mattheo riddle

smut. 18+. minors dni. hate fucking. enemies to lovers trope. that’s it. it’s just that. bahaha enjoy ;)

Gryffindor.

Known for bravery, courage, and loyalty. These were supposed to be the core traits. Maybe they were for most Gryffindors. But the most defining trait Mattheo saw in you was something more. If it weren’t so defiant he would’ve questioned your house placement. You were known for your fucking nerve. You had the nerve to terrorize anyone who crossed you or stood in your way.

Mattheo knew this first hand, being your number one competitor. The two of you went head to head in quidditch, a permanent scowl stitched across your face everytime a green uniform stepped onto the field. To your displeasure they had won this year’s championship, winning the house cup along with the final quidditch match. Mattheo felt like he was making history, whilst being able to shove his victory in your face at the same time.

Oh, was it so bittersweet. The satisfaction of seeing your unscathed rage and envy. The downside? The subtle fear that lingered in the back of his mind. The fear that somehow someway, he knew you’d get him back.

In celebration of winning it all the Slytherins decided to throw a party. Exclusively Slytherins only, obviously. Usually they’d extend their invitation to other houses, a flirty Blaise Zabini a major advocate for ‘meeting new people.’ But tonight? All of the house members were buzzing with excitement, the ability to fully let loose creating quite a stir. Of course winning quidditch wasn’t the old fashioned way, playing fair and all. He honestly figured Madam Hooch would catch on. But she didn’t and Mattheo got away with whispering a few jinxes.

The smell of muggle grass and booze laced the air, violating the nostrils of every attendee. Mattheo silently thanked himself for choosing Blaise as the designated DJ, cringing at the memory of Lorenzo playing classical music at their last get together. His eyes glanced across the crowd of swaying bodies, searching for Theo or Draco. He was in the mood for a shot, but opted to be waiting so he could celebrate the houses victory with his best friends.

Mattheo thought he was getting intoxicated from the air when a flash of red walked by him. He narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times and trying to settle his vision through the flashes of blinding lights. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to grab the strangers wrist and twist it. “Holy fuck dude, what the fuck?” Theo hissed. Mattheo instantly dropped his wrist, his green eyed friend raising his eyebrows at him. “Who pissed in your cheerios?” He seethed, rubbing his wrist. Mattheo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, thought I saw a flash of red in here,” Mattheo explained. Theo chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “No lions will be wondering into the snake den tonight Riddle,” He replied, extending the pack to him. Logically he was right, the appearance of a Gryffindor one even you wouldn’t be as bold to make. Mattheo took a cigarette from Theo’s pack, the two taking a brief moment to light the heads.

“Malfoy’s over by pool table. I think he’s trying to show Greengrass his skills,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. The two walked side by side, crowds departing to give them room to walk. Mattheo Riddle was well known and respected, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. If it wasn’t enough being the dark lords son, his aggressive and violent nature built a reputation by itself. Mattheo was finally able to relax as the tobacco swirled around his lungs, creating comfort as he exhaled through his nostrils.

The pool table was a muggle sport, one Pansy insisted the group give a shot after spending an evening playing it with Hermione Granger. After managing to get one in the Slytherin common room, it became a regular spot for Mattheo and his friends. Before the duo could arrive, a frantic Pansy stood before them. “Hey guys I think we should go do shots! Why don’t we go do shots?” She suggested, smiling nervously. Mattheo glanced at Theo, the two communicating telepathically.

“Pans, what’s wrong?” Theo questioned. The short girl laughed awkwardly, placing her hands on both boys chest. “Nothing! Seriously though let’s go this way,” Pansy encouraged, trying to guide the boys in the opposite direction. That’s when Mattheo heard it, the sound of your beautiful laughter. His ears twitched, his eyes flickering upwards towards the pool table. “Son of a bitch,” He muttered, pushing past Pansy.

Theo and Pansy trailed behind him, recognizing the shit storm that was about to occur. You were bent over the side of the pool table, a red dress complimenting your curves. Your lips were painted the same shade of red, curled up in a smile as a familiar face guided you with the pool stick. Lorenzo stood behind you, your body’s connected as his hands sat over yours. Your eyes flickered up to Mattheo’s, soaking in his facial expression of rage.

“Hi Riddle,” You greeted, hitting one of the pool balls into the pocket with ease. Lorenzo grinned, leaning back and grabbing the pool stick from your hand. “See? I told you that you’d be a pro in no time,” He said encouragingly. Mattheo looked between the two of you, racking his brain for an explanation. “A lion cub wondering into a snake den wasn’t the wisest decision, don’t you think?” Mattheo spat, lacing his words carefully. The only conclusion he could draw, based on the goofy grin on Lorenzo’s face, was that his friend was oblivious, naive, and an idiot.

“I’d be careful disrespecting a pride’s leader Riddle. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” You purred, batting your eyelashes mockingly. Pansy and Theo exchanged glances, attempting to anticipate Mattheo’s next move. He was boiling was rage, your stupid red dress only igniting the flame further. “Can’t we all just have a good time guys? After all, it’s a celebration isn’t it?” Lorenzo suggested, sipping his red solo cup. Mattheo inhaled more of his cigarette, flicking away the ashes onto the dreaded pool table. The table that, at this current moment, was the bane of his existence.

Lorenzo frowned at the sight of the ashes. “Hey you’re going to ruin the game, you’ve got to give up cigarettes,” He said, handing the pool stick back to you. Mattheo took one last deep inhale, a naive Lorenzo placing his red solo cup on the edge of the table. “Alright, i’ll start now,” He agreed, shoving the bud of his cigarette in his red solo cup. The sizzle of the flame was music to Mattheo’s ears, his lips curling up in a devilish grin. Lorenzo’s face twisted in disgust, going to take a step towards Mattheo.

Mattheo was never one to shy away from a fight, even if it was one of his moron friends. You quickly stepped in between them. “Enough of this petty shit. Get out of here Riddle,” You spat, glaring up at the tall Slytherin. For a brief moment, when you weren’t running that mouth of yours, Mattheo consciously thought to himself you were quite pretty. “I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me little cub. Otherwise the next time I put out my cigarette it’ll be on his forehead,” Mattheo snarled, glaring at the man behind you.

You gritted your teeth, grabbing Mattheo’s wrist harshly. “You wanna play? Fine. Let’s play,” You grumbled, digging your nails into his skin. You dragged him through the crowd, a Gryffindor dragging Mattheo around an impossible sight. You dragged him over to the closest room, tossing him inside. Mattheo didn’t know the owner of this dorm room, but he was pleased to see it was empty.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind coming here,” Mattheo growled. You audibly scoffed, folding your arms. “Guess i’m joining you then, considering you lost yours when you decided to jinx my fucking broom!” You argued. Mattheo’s hardened gaze temporarily fell, shock briefly washing over his features before he swiped it away. “I may not be a Ravenclaw but i’m not stupid. You’re just lucky I found out long after the game,” You huffed. Mattheo hadn’t anticipated this outcome, your intelligence a trait he had underestimated.

“Why didn’t you snitch to madam hooch?” Mattheo questioned. He eyed you carefully, your small figure much more intimidating than before. “I figured riding your best friends face would work far more sufficient,” You quipped, grinning mischievously. Mattheo was on you in a flash, shoving you against the closest wall. His hands pinned you against the dark wood, his face inches from yours. “You fucking slut,” He growled. You glared up at him, your eyes briefly flickering down to his soft lips.

You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, the smell of cigarettes and cologne flooding your nostrils. You could faintly smell his conditioner from his head full of curls, his hair having grown a bit longer than the last time you had seen it. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat weakly, your heart beginning to race. Tensions were rising quickly, the close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies. “Dont fuck with me princess, i’ll reach in that pretty little chest of yours and pull your heart out,” Mattheo huffed. He could feel adrenaline running through his veins, an odd mixture of rage and lust falling over him.

Your eyes, usually so fierce and viscous, seemed to be softening. Your pupils were blown, a familiar gaze of lust having fallen over your features. A silent war took place, one where neither of you wanted to make the first move. Heavy breathing ensured, fast heart beats, and intense eye contact were the only things stopping you from ripping each other apart.

You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, yanking his lips to yours. A rough clashing of teeth and tongues ensued, Mattheo’s hands quick to find your waist. He yanked you towards him, the taste of cigarettes and mint lacing your tongue as you both fought for dominance. You couldn’t give in to him. You couldn’t let him think he was in control. You pushed him towards the bed, struggling to reach your back zipper. “Having trouble princess?” Mattheo asked mockingly, smirking down at you. You tried to reach the zipper, straining your arm to do so.

“Shut it Riddle,” You snapped, face growing red with embarrassment. Fuck were you adorable. He reached around you, slowly pulling your zipper down. You could feel heat surging through your cheeks as your dress fell, leaving you almost fully exposed. You were a sight for sore eyes, Mattheo’s refusing to stray from you. “And to think you were hiding all of this under quidditch gear,” He mumbled, soaking in your figure. You rolled your eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“If you keep up all of this talking i’m going to change my mind. I’m not here for your witty comments Riddle,” You spat, your attention focused on undoing his button. He grabbed your wrist firmly, bringing you a mere inch away from his face. “You and that fucking mouth. If you want me to make you cum you’re going to get on your knees and put that mouth to good use,” Mattheo growled. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip at the sound of his words. You controlled every aspect of your life, even if you didn’t want to.

Someone so toxic, someone you despised, calling the shots turned you on beyond belief. You sank to your knees, undoing Mattheo’s belt. “There we go, that’s a good girl,” He praised. You pulled down his slacks, yanking down his boxers with them. His cock was bigger than you expected, your eyes widening in visible shock. “Weasley’s can’t compete with me, can they?” Mattheo asked mockingly. His taunting words snapped you out of your trance, your eyes shooting daggers up at him. You licked the underside of his shaft, purposefully dragging your tongue painfully slow.

Mattheo tried to conceal a groan, his hand automatically flying to your hair. He bit his bottom lip as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his slit. “Fucking shit,” He huffed. He pushed you down further onto his cock, your thighs tightening at the sensation. The feeling of being used was enticing enough. The feeling of being used by your arch rival, the same one you insult on the quidditch field, was euphoric.

You forced your jaw to go slack, encouraging him to face fuck you. Mattheo looked down at you with proud eyes, admiring his cock in your mouth. “You are so pretty like this, fuck,” Mattheo groaned. He bucked his hips inside of your mouth, gripping a handful of your hair. His cock abused your throat, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and pooling onto the floor. You finally gagged, the sound music to Mattheo’s ears. He smirked down at you, finally pulling out of your mouth to give you air.

“You’re so pathetic, on your knees for me like a whore,” He snickered. Tears were flooding your waterline, your doe eyes admiring Mattheo from below. You quickly rose to your feet, pushing him back against the bed. “You and that fucking tongue,” You muttered. You quickly stripped yourself of your bra and panties, both of you rushing to take off Mattheo’s shirt. Your eyes briefly studied the scars that stained his chest, different than the ones that covered his face.

For a brief moment Mattheo could see empathy flicker across your face, before your eyes went up to his. “This tongue has gotten me more places than yours ever could,” He bickered weakly, your exposed breast and cunt making his mouth water. Electricity was buzzing between the two of you, your hips straddling him. You rubbed your folds up and down his shaft, earning a moan from the brunette below. “You didn’t think i’d let you fuck me without putting that tongue to good use, right?” You asked mockingly.

You quickly repositioned yourself hovering over Mattheo’s face. His large hands cupped your ass, bringing you closer to his mouth. You let out a string of curses as his tongue began lapping at your cunt, teasing your hole and swirling around your clit. “Fucking shit, fuck Mattheo,” You whined, gripping and pulling at his chocolate curls. Mattheo gripped your ass harder, purposefully squeezing the flesh as rough as you were pulling his hair. In a swift motion he flipped you around, your back hitting the mattress below as Mattheo made himself comfortable between his legs.

He brought two fingers to your dripping entrance. “Interesting how wet this tongue has made you, isn’t it?” Mattheo asked, smirking as your walls eagerly accepted his digits. You groaned in response, your hips bucking upwards as his fingers curled inside of you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to hide any of the sinful noises that threatened to escape your lips if you broke composure. Mattheo noticed, his fingers stopping right as they brushed against your g spot.

“You better start moaning my name or i’ll stop. Wanna hear those pretty sounds,” He threatened. You whined as you grinded pathetically against his fingers, his digits finally curling again. “Please please please,” You pleaded, a knot tightening in your stomach with each pump. Mattheo sucked at the skin in between your thighs harshly, creating small hickies on the sensitive skin. “Thats it, keep begging for me,” He chuckled, relishing in the sight of you pleading for him. You were at his mercy, his will for once. And fuck was it a satisfying position to be in.

Mattheo began drawing sloppy circles around your clit with his thumb, your fingers entangling themselves deeper into his curls. “Matty i’m gonna cum-” You warned, an unholy moan escaping your throat as you released on his fingers. That nick name. That fucking nick name. Mattheo finger fucked you through your high, the feeling of you cumming for him and moaning that nick name made his heart thump harder. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, repositioning himself above you. You looked dazed, your vision settling as his brown eyes stared down at you.

“Still think you can handle me princess? You look pretty fucked out to me,” Mattheo asked, playing with a strand of your hair. You blinked a few times, your vision settling on a cocky Mattheo. “You wouldn’t last a minute fucking me Riddle, don’t get too cocky,” You replied. Mattheo’s smirk fell, his hands quick to roughly reposition you. You arched your back as soon as you registered you were on all fours, your ass high in the air for Mattheo’s viewing. He bit his bottom lip as he gripped the flesh, bringing his tip to your aching cunt.

He rubbed his shaft up and down your folds, collecting your slick as you whimpered beneath him. He quickly shoved himself inside of you, not bothering to take things slow. You wanted rough? He’d show you fucking rough. “Dont pussy out on me, you can take it can’t you princess?” Mattheo purred. The pain began mixing with pleasure as he jerked his hips into yours, brushing against your g spot. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat, trying to hold on to some sense of dignity. Mattheo leaned over, his voice assertive, “Oh I will.”

His time of being nice was over, his hips rutting into yours like a wild animal. You couldn’t control your moans as he fucked you, his cock mercilessly abusing your cunt to Mattheo’s liking. “Feels so so g-good Matty,” You whined. His large hand flew down to your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking it towards him. “Lorenzo couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?” Mattheo asked roughly. You responded with incoherent babbles and curses, his cock continuing to slam inside of you.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing you to snap out of your haze. “I asked you a question slut,” He huffed. You were so fucking pretty like this, begging for more underneath him. If he had known you were this tight, this addicting, he would’ve done this a long time ago. “No he couldn’t, only you,” You babbled, whimpering as he released your hair. Your mind went blank as he fucked you, any feelings of resentment and hatred fading away with each thrust.

He may have ruined your chances at winning the house cup, but fuck did he make you feel good. Mattheo was pounding you into the bed, strings of curses with mixtures of your name leaving his lips as he harshly gripped your waist. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your walls squeezing him tighter. “Awe are you gonna cum before me? Really? That’s quite pathetic,” Mattheo huffed, sensing your oncoming orgasm. Warnings of your impending release were made, Mattheo’s thrust becoming impossibly faster.

“Fucking hold it, wanna cum with you, cum with me,” He panted, his cock twitching just in time. You grabbed handfuls of the sheets as you came on his cock, milking him dry for every last drop of his seed. You could feel his warm cum painting your cunt, his cock still buried inside of you. Mattheo didn’t want to leave your cunt, his heart feeling like it was going to burst inside of his chest. Slowly he pulled out of you, readjusting you gently. It felt odd, Mattheo’s fingertips grazing your skin as if you were fragile.

You rolled over onto your back, Mattheo laying beside you. “That wasn’t half bad Riddle,” You say, halfway attempting at a compliment. Mattheo smirked down at you, wrapping his arm around you. He brought you closer, pretending he didn’t notice your cheeks flush red. “Call me Matty,” He replied. A peaceful silence filled the room for a moment, the only audible sound being both of your breathing. It wasn’t in Mattheo’s nature to stay quiet for long, his next words leaving his lips without a second thought:

“That was pretty snakelike what you did, sneaking in here just to spite me. You sure you weren’t placed in the wrong house?”

“Shut it Matty.”

[paddockbunny]

Green Eyed Monster

Summary : Lando is overcome with jealousy when he sees the one who got away with someone else Rating : 18+ Pairing Lando x Anonymous female pairing Word Count : 946 words - ONE PART BLURB Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, no strong warnings but it’s not intended for minors. Images : curated from Pintrest

His envious eyes glowered at her as a large, dominating hand trailed down the curve of her spine. His palm ached in desperation. In complete burning, desperate want to touch her.

Fuck, the sheer torture of knowing what she felt like wrapped around his heart and constricted it like a slithering snake. As he watched them walking together he remembered how she tasted. He bit his lip in a weak attempt to rid himself of how he would risk everything for a second night of heaven with her.

Lando took a sharp inhale of breath and exhaled loudly. He was thankful he was far enough behind them that - neither of them knew he was there, for one - he didn’t have to suffer overhearing their conversation. What could they possibly have in common anyway? He thought. Carefully catching himself not to mutter the words under his breath. He’s old enough to be her dad. He probably can’t even get it up. Upon the thought entering his brain he laughed to himself just as a group of fans shouted his name and came rushing over toward him. Fuck!

With a phone shoved in his face and a pen thrust into his hand, he glanced up just in time to see the pair he had been cursing turning back from looking behind them. At him. He was sure of it. Her head lingered a little longer than his did and it sent something rushing through his body that he couldn’t possibly articulate. She barely looked at him so when she did he felt like he was about to turn into a puddle right there in the middle of the paddock.

Thankful the McLaren garage was before the Mercedes one Lando managed to duck into the teams hospitality before a crimson red blush grew upon his cheeks. He felt like an idiotic little school boy but the memory of how she trembled under him as she came made him regain a sense of manliness he wasn’t about to forget about in a hurry.

Lando coasted through the next two hours. He sat through pre practice discussions and small talk but the only thing he could do was daydream - or perhaps it was reminisce - of that evening after Silverstone last year. Of her.

His lips buzzed thinking of her sweet lips on his. A stifled groan was luckily caught before it escaped past Lando’s own parted lips. Before he could out his sinful, dirty thoughts of someone else’s girlfriend. The taste of her spit muddling amongst his as his tongue toyed with hers made him swallow instinctively. God, if that was all he could have once more he would take it. Just one more hungry, feverish kiss. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy his mind. No. He simply licked his bottom lip as he felt his fingertips tingle while thinking about her soft skin. The smooth, buttery feeling of her flesh as he trailed his thick digits down her arms (pulling the black strap of her lace bra down as they went). Fuck! The flesh of her thighs. Long and lean. Oh how he wanted them wrapped around his waist again. Lando remembered the curve of her back and Jesus, that damn ass. Lando ground his teeth just remembering her damn ass. The memory of how she so effortlessly sunk down onto her knees and took him in her warm mouth. How she moaned against his cock as he hit the back of her throat. He twitched in his jeans instinctively. Flickers of their hot, ravenous night flashed in front of his eyes as he blinked. Her pussy glistening as he licked, lapped and devoured it. The elicit moans that he pulled from her as he slid himself inside and how she felt gripping around him. She was so wet, so tight, so perfect. If he could only have her again.

Lando shifted around in his seat. Painfully uncomfortable due to the throbbing erection now pressing against his jeans. He hid it as best he could as he headed to his drivers room to get ready for practice. For once, he wished he was anywhere else in the world than at work. How was he supposed to go out there and do a good job and put fast times in when all he could think of was the girl who got away. The girl who got away and the man she was now fucking. The thoughts of him being so lucky to be so carnally intimate with her swirled around his head had now suddenly been replaced by the galling images of her fucking Toto Wolff. Toto fucking Wolff.

He thought about Toto kissing her and his huge, overbearing frame engulfing her as he did so. He could imagine how she would sink to her knees for him and struggle to take his length. He could almost hear Toto encourage her to make all of those sweet unholy noises - the ones he liked to think about when he had his own pulsating member in his hand or he was lucky enough to have taken a different girl home. And Lando wondered if she came as hard for Toto as she did for him. But as much as he couldn’t help but think about them together and how he knew he was a catch, Lando knew he couldn’t compare to a man like Toto. He was just a driver. Toto was, well, Toto. He was a billionaire. He was tall, dark and handsome. He had it all. He had her and all Lando had was his own green-eyed monster.

[marwhoa]

request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.

🝮 “ green with envy ”

rise!boys x y/n

author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?

word count: 6.1k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.

But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.

It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.

But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.

Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.

The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.

“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”

Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.

“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”

“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”

He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!

“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”

Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.

“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”

He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.

“ Mm? Leo? ”

You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.

Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.

Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?

“ What in carnation? ”

There you went, first with a light and short laugh.

“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”

Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.

“—but, beleaf it or not—“

He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.

“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”

You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.

“ Y/N… ”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.

“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“

He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.

“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”

“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”

“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“

The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.

“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”

“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”

If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.

“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”

It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.

“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”

As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.

“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”

“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”

Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.

This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.

While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.

The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.

When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.

Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.

Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.

That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.

The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.

Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.

You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.

More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.

He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.

But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?

It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.

“ Raph! “

You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.

When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?

How could he be so stupid?

So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.

“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”

His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.

“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”

“ Wha? ”

“ You—You! ”

He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.

“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”

Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.

“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”

“ Then why do you like him more!? ”

“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”

You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.

“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”

His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.

“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”

You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.

While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.

Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.

You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.

And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.

The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.

Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.

The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.

That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.

Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.

Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.

“ Oh sh—“

Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.

Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?

Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…

Safer?

In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.

… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.

The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.

But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.

Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.

“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”

He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.

From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.

So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.

The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?

And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.

The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.

The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.

“ Y/N, can we talk? ”

Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.

“ Of course, dear. ”

That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.

“ Raph? ”

You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..

“ Raph…? ”

Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!

“ Do you like Leo? ”

“ What. ”

Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.

But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!

“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”

Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.

“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”

You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.

“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”

While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.

“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”

There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.

“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”

He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”

“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”

Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.

Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?

Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.

Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.

So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?

No? Just me?

Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.

But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.

Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?

Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.

But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?

The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.

“ Y/N. ”

Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.

“ Let’s go,”

Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.

“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”

The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.

“ Of course not, Dee. ”

Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.

“ Right. ”

He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.

The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?

What the heck, man?

“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”

Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.

You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”

Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.

“ Annoyed sigh. ”

While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.

“ Alright, spill it. ”

You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.

“ Spill what? ”

He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.

“ Spill wh—?! ”

Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!

“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”

His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.

“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”

That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.

“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”

Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,

“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”

Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.

Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.

“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”

There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…

“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.

“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”

The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”

“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”

Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.

“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”

Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.

“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”

Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.

“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”

Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.

“ Wait, you do? ”

“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”

Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.

“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”

His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.

“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”

You softened as his gaze fell onto you.

“ Because you were there.. ”

Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.

“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”

“ You were just… Jealous? ”

Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.

“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”

He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.

“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”

Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.

“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”

With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.

Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.

[cherryheairt]

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

[vivwritesfics]

Charles Leclerc Masterlist

All of my Charles imagines, blurbs and series can be found here

NAGIVATION

Series

Rich Kids Club

Jester Stole His Thorny Crown

Fake It Till You Make It

Imagines

"He Can't Know"

Y/N Wolff and her father have always had a rocky relationship. Formula One was bringing them together. She's not quite ready to let her relationship with a certain Ferarri driver ruin that

"He Does Know"

Toto Wolff finds out about Y/N's relationship with Charles - the aftermath of that (second part to He Can't Know)

Green Eyed Monster

Jealous Charles (smut warning)

Pancakes

Charles Leclerc loves his girlfriend. He loves her enough to make her pancakes while half asleep to make her happy.

Inked Up

Y/N gets a tattoo in honour of her boyfriend, but it also traumatises him

Picking Up Stitches

Y/N loves knitting and crochet. She has her own art account where she posts all of her creations. Of course they catch the eye of the grids fashion icon, Lewis Hamilton (Charles is so proud of his girl)

Fake It Till You Make It

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up? Fake Dating turned real dating trope

My Girl Can Ride

Another one for the horse girls! This time with Charles Leclerc

Not His Type

y/n is an author and not charles's usual type (he loves his writer girlfriend)

Girl Dinner

What does girl dinner actually mean?

Ink

Monaco Tattoo Parlour might be one of the most famous studios in the world. Famed for its incredible work and incredibly attractive artist. Appointment are booked a year in advance. But Charles Leclerc is worth it

Blurbs

Best friend charles x clueless reader

hate fucking charles

spagoot the snake

jealous, possessive bff charles

witch charles

No sex on rawe ceek

gryffindor charles

more gryffindor charles

more gryffindor charles

charles takes virginity

best friends brother

[slutshamethesquirrels]

All The Sweet Tea In Carolina

Pairing: cowboy!geto x reader

TW/CW: historical inaccuracies, smut, rough sex, choking, gagging, mentions of guns, mdni

Description: Restless and duty-bound, you are set to begin courting with one very handsome Nanami Kento come morning. However, your heart belongs to another, who may change your mind before sun rises.

This work is part of the "Slow It Down, Cowboy" AU, a collaborative effort with @vallification . Read it's sister work, "In My Heart You Pay No Rent" here.

How unfair life could be, truly.

You should've been ecstatic, over the moon even, to have received an invitation to court from one Nanami Kento. He was the son of a blacksmith and a well educated mother, polite, modest, and only four years your senior. Nanami Kento, certainly, would make a fine husband.

”Oh my, how handsome he is!”

Your mother had gushed in the dining room, occasionally dipping her head to peer around the entryway into your living quarters as he discussed his intentions with your father. Marriage, money, children were all topics that had been thrown around. All of which you knew because every time your mama would hear something she liked she’d floundered and flounced as if there were ants under her feet, squealing excitedly at what had to be your worst nightmare. You had to resist the urge to insinuate she was a church bell.

She wasn't wrong, though, the old church bell. Nanami Kento was handsome. The other young women of the town would simply stone you if it meant they could step into your shoes.

And so you’d accepted the proposition with a tight smile, hoping he may have thought your eyes were wide with excitement, not panic.

I am a wretched, ungrateful woman. I will be courted by the very handsome Nanami Kento. When he asks for my hand I will be his wife. I will learn to love him.

Your brain repeated the mantra over and over in your head, trying desperately to convince your heart of it’s truths. All the while, your body seemed to revolt against you as well, taking sides with your heart in this futile pursuit. Every shift in your bed was uncomfortable, the collar of your nightdress too high, the wrist cuffs of that same dress too tight. Your body thought this night would be much more comfortable with a particular pair of arms wrapped around you. Your heart screamed for the return of a certain set of catmint hued eyes. Your brain thought he was a backhanded fly-by-night, and argued with the other two to follow suit.

To the rest of the world, Suguru Geto was an outlaw, a cowhand turned desperado chasing some wild tale of claiming land out west by means of force. Under your bed in an old pine box were clippings from newspapers spinning wild fables of his desperate attempts at gunslinging his way into codfish aristocracy alongside one notorious “Six Eyes Satoru Gojo”, a figure whose name struck fear in the hearts of many.

To you, though, Suguru Geto was a humble farmboy, sent to the dogs by the untimely death of his parents not long after he’d turned 18. 

You hadn’t known him well then, not honestly, but gossip needs no carriage. Rumor in the market paths was that the young man was a bit less of a pony, and more of a stallion. You remembered feeling a blend of emotions everytime it was mentioned. Disgust at the reckless deflowerment of so many young women of proud heritage. Visceral shock at the idea that Suguru Geto, a boy known to live by his charms, with a voice laden with honey and a tender smile, would commit such atrocities. Then, on top of the latter, was a feeling that spurred an immense shame within you, jealousy. The green eyed wretch. 

It was no surprise to you why so many young women had fallen into the bear trap that was his porcelain grin; the one that he would flash at merchants as you passed him time and time again at the market with the furtiveness of a field mouse darting through the grass. Though, with the way you assumed of him, perhaps you were more like the corn snake. After all, who was to say any of it was true? Lies and gossip had long since been wed, after all.

Those girls in their bustled gowns would be floored to know how many times he’d bedded you in the years since then, especially after he’d run for the west and Chicagoed more men than you could count on both your hands and all your toes. Your family would simply be ruined if the coffee-sisters caught wind of all the ways he’d taken you. If it ever happened, you’d already decided you’d publish a pamphlet and then promptly drown yourself in the river to save them from the shame. Tell the emerging nation in its entirety how sure of a shot “Sure Shot Suguru Geto” really was. He’d forgive you for bubbling around, surely. Not like he’d have much of a choice.

After all, it was his own discourteousness that had left you here in your bed on this night, tossing and turning and wallowing in your own delusional sentimentality. What was there to miss, even? He was a landlouper, a vagabond that only stayed for a night, if one could even refer to it as such. He’d come to take you after dusk on the off chance it wouldn’t trouble him so much as he was passing through, and return to his misruled adventures before the sun had even risen. Of course, there were more reasons than his own transgressions that sent him packing so quickly. Once, he’d made the mistake of over sleeping, only to be awoken to your father beating on the door of your room, asking why a horse was posted up by the tree on the farside of the property, wanting to ensure your safety. Admittedly, it was a tad fun trying to distract your Pa while he attempted to back slang it by way of your bedroom window. You almost understood why he chose such a lifestyle.

God be with you, you needed to sleep. Now.

Either by night or by sleight, by fair means or foul, you stomped the images of his broad shoulders and calloused hands out of your mind and attempted to count sheep. But even the sheep, it seemed, were disgruntled. After a fair number they laid down in the field of your mind, refusing to run their courses and instead curling into briskets, having grown tired and lazy. It seems they needed a cattleboy to guide them. A tall, toned, miscreant cowhand with a flair for violence and princess-esque locks of inky silken hair that tumbled down his--

Your eyes fly open, and dammit you could absolutely kill that man for the way he’s ravaged your entire being. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should’ve counted Nanami Kento’s jumping hurdles instead, and you can’t help but giggle childishly at yourself, pawing at your weary eyes with balled fists.

“What’s s’funny?”

You jolt upright, catching the crown of your head against the pine headboard as you did so, causing you to yelp a little louder than you should’ve. Clutching one hand over the painsome spot where you’d practically bludgeoned yourself, you lift your eyes to find none other than “Sure Shot” himself, his jaw resting against a closed fist and his elbow against the wood paneling of your open window, his hair loose (just the way you liked it) and toppling into the open air of your room, the light of the moon catching on the locs like sun on water.

You search your soul for every reason to be cross with him, trying desperately to cling to the crumbling remnants of your anger that were slipping through your hands like sand at just the sight of him, but your body– dammit, your body. It betrays you, craving him like sunlight. You scramble out of your bed and to the window, leaning out to toss your arms around his neck, melting into him as he chuckles mischievously, his hands finding your sides to hoist you out of the window, spinning you around like children celebrating a hard won game of marbles.

“Now just how did you manage to snake your way up here without alerting the likes of Archie?” You question, leaning your hands against the broad stretch of his shoulders to look at him. Your father had found the ol’ hound in a burlap sack by the river the summer prior. He grew into a fierce protector, for better or for worse.

“Seems even dogs’r charmed by my delicate sensibilities.” He smirks, and you can't help the soft smile that creeps across your face, your fingers affectionately tracing over the embroidery of his shirt, carefully crafted delphiniums threaded in various lilac hues painted across his shoulders. He did always have a thing for fashion.

“Charmed only by the dog biscuits in your pocket, surely is what you intended.”

He snickers, setting you down in your still-open windowsill so your bare feet don’t touch the moist earth below, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he speaks,

“Cain’t blame a man, honestly-” he produces something from his pocket and expertly tosses it into his mouth, too smooth for you to catch sight of it before it was crunching and cracking between his teeth. “Better’n any human biscuit I’ve ever tasted--”.

You gasp, wide-eyed and astounded at such a disgusting act carried out by such a beautiful man right in front of your eyes.

“Suguru Geto, you truly forget yourself!” your scold carries out over his wheezing, a mixture of hushed complaints about how you were sure to get the two of you caught if you didn’t pipe down intermingled with chuckling. He tries to muffle it by leaning his arms on the window, caging you in by the hips and burying his face in the crook of your neck. The rumble of his chest lights a fire inside you as you attempt to playfully push him away to no avail.

“I mean it, Mr. Sure Shot if you even so much as attempt to toy with the idea of putting your poor misfortunate dog lips anywhere near me--!”

“Shhh!” He begs, cupping your head on either side and bringing your forehead down to rest against his own, still laughing lightly “It’s a mint, I swear! See? I’m only hackin’ on ya’.”. He blows a gentle cooling breath against your face and despite yourself you breathe in deeply, swallowing a lungful of his breath and something distinctly fresh, hoping he doesn’t notice the cheek-ache you’ve gained from the tingling sensation.

You mimic his giggles, though whether it was due to humor or the way he stole your breath so effortlessly was up for debate “You’ve gone mad.”.

“Yes’m, sure have.” He confirms, his smile fading from one of amusement to one of reverence, “T’love an’ be sane ain’t possible, after all”.

Your smile fades as you lean back slightly, shaking your head with a dry scoff, “You, Suguru Geto, do not love me.”.

His brow scrunches in confusion, eyes bouncing back and forth across your face as he chews his cheek. What you’d give to be able to see into his head.

“Now, ‘at dog jus’ ain’t gon’ hunt.” He huffs, displeased with your response to his confession. You roll your eyes and go to slide backwards into your bedroom only to be caught in his hands, one on your waist and one clutching your chin between his calloused fingers, rough from years of roping and riding “If I ain’t earnest, then ‘m dead, y/n. I lov-”.

“Stop it, and stop it now.” You spit, reaching up to grab him by the wrist and toss it back at him “You do not-”.

“Who ’re you to try’n tell me how I feel?” He cuts you off, nostrils flaring and lips cementing themselves into a tight line as he grows increasingly wrought-up over your dismissal. You’d never, not even once, rejected his advances or affections before. Typically you were malleable, pliant to his wills. It was obvious he didn’t know how to handle it.

You hold up a hand to signal him to settle, and he does a bit, finally backing away just a few feet and allowing you some much needed room to breathe.

“My apologies. It might be better to say you cannot love me-”

“I’ll do whatever‘n the hell I damn well please-”

“Suguru.”

He huffs and turns away from you, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “Sorry, I guess. Go ‘head.”. A frustrated sigh.

You set your gaze anywhere but at him, your mouth opening and closing several times as you struggle to say the words you know you need to, your heels kicking softly against the wooden framing of your family home.

“Well?” He prods, growing impatient, and you shoot him a glare, sending a clear signal; that he needs to relax. This is hard enough without him becoming chewed up.

“I am set to begin courting tomorrow.” You breathe, trying to remain steady, your head growing fuzzy as the confession seems to set the reality of it all into stone. You were going to start courting tomorrow. With a man that was the polar opposite in nearly every fashion of the one before you, the one you wanted.

He stills for a moment, hooded eyes widening in shock momentarily before he relaxes entirely, following that with a snort and a chuckle, “Very funny, but don’t yank my chain like ‘at. You got no idea what I almost-”.

“It is no laughing matter, I fear. He talked to my father this morning. They discussed funds and… and the dowry-- a-and, children.” You have to stop yourself and manually fill your lungs with much needed oxygen, hanging your head low and gripping to your makeshift seat until your knuckles turn white, caught off guard by how badly you ache more and more with each passing word.

When you lift your head to meet his form once again, he’s stock-still, entirely unreadable. The once cool and open night air now felt stiff, stale, and impossibly hot. Eventually, he breaks first, huffing and rolling his lips between his teeth, nodding as if to confirm his own thoughts.

“Well, y’just seem plum thrilled, babe. By all means, don’t go lettin’ my nonsense stop ya’.” You’re certain he wants this to come off unbothered, but his voice absolutely drips sarcasm and venom. The sound is almost foreign to your ears. “Who’s the lucky bastard, huh?”.

“Luck?!” You evade answering that question entirely, deciding it better to focus on the relationship he knew versus the one he didn’t. You weren’t callow enough to lose sight of Suguru’s tendencies. You needn't sweet Nanami Kento’s blood on your hands.

“It hasn’t anything to do with luck, Suguru. You could have done it just as easily as he, but the path you chose was different. You just as simply could’ve gone to my father and–!”

“And what?!” He steps closer, his voice barely a harsh whisper, pushing through clenched teeth, “Introduce m’self to the beer bottle? ‘Howdy, I’m Suguru Geto. I got nothin’ to m’ name, dead parents and a barrel’a women under my belt but please force your daughter into allowin’ me to court ‘er.’. You ‘n I both know-”

“I will have you know I am most certainly not being forced into anything-”

“Then why not say ‘no’?”

“Because I cannot!”

“Sounds awful forced t’me.” He deadpans. You hadn’t paid much attention to how close he was again until his breath was fanning your face. 

“You’re impossible.” Unwilling to let him back you into a corner, you slide backwards into the room, fully intent on turning around and slamming your window right down on his ridiculously large hands.

He beat you to the punch, though. Hopping through the open space right behind you, giving you no time to shut him out before you’re chest to chest with him, standing on your tiptoes to try and cut down on the height advantage, much like one would go about handling a bear.

“This is your fault, you know? What’s forcing my hand here is that you’ve-” you jab a pointed finger into his chest “-devalued me! Without Nanami Kento’s consideration I would surely be left to the hands of some- some dizzy-aged cretin with a wad of gold and a lobcock that hasn’t worked since before I was born!”.

He smirks, and you immediately realize your mistake, your eyes widening as he cocks his head and dips down to your eye-level, his body language telling you that your attempts to dominate him were all but futile.

“Nanami Kento, huh?” He questions, smugness plastering his unthinkably handsome features. A tense few beats pass, and he relents, seemingly satisfied with the new information. The moonbeams that cascaded in through the window caught and glimmered on his holstered pistol strapped to his hip by way of his gun belt, reminding you of the weight of your mistake.

“Do not. Suguru, I’m gravely serious, do not do this-” You weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Nanami Kento.” He repeats the name slowly, his voice coated with malice as he stops and turns to look at you. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep his voice low and his breathing even.

“Let me tell ya ‘bout Nanami Kento. ‘At man ain’t ever worked’fr nary a damn thing ‘n his entire life, and when it comes to fightin’? I bet on ev’r dollar I got ‘at prick’s all hat, no cattle. He wants ta take ya from me? Fine. But he’s gon’ have to do a lil’ more for it than just givin’ yer ol’ man a lick n’ a promise.” He nods the affirmative at his own words and turns to leave, but you lunge forward and catch him by the shirtsleeve.

“Just of what exactly do you speak?” You demand, and the smile he gives you could shake the shit from the pants of Satan himself.

“Real simple, peach. He can duel me for it, like a gentleman. Better be grateful, too. ‘Cause the way ‘m feelin’ right now- I got half’a mind to sharpen’at silver spoon he’s graced with’n cut him with it.”

You scan his face with the providentness of a surgeon, blinking a few times before you finally just ask,

“…You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, simon pure, m’afriad-”

“You will ruin me!” You grit your teeth and slap a flat palm against his chest out of pure instinct. He flinches a bit, less in pain and more in pure shock at your outburst. You’d never had a legitimate reason to be cross with him before.

“Accordin’ to you, I’ve already gone on an’ beat that bull-”

“Oh, you rat! You know what my intention is! How am I to explain why Sure Shot Suguru Geto desires to duel for my- my-” You let go of him, your hands flailing as you search for your words. You’re so mad you can’t even articulate.  “Well surely not my honor! If anything, for my-! My madge!”.

By the time you finish your outburst, you’re effectively tied up in knots, your fists clenched at your side and your jaw jutted like a bulldog as your chest heaves with fiery, angry breaths. He’s tense too, but for an entirely different reason. His lips are pressed in a tight line, eyebrows damn near flying off his face and cheeks turning crimson with effort.

“Don’t you dare.” Your warning is the thing that sends him over the edge. It starts with a snort, and then evolves into a fit of wheezing and whickering as he tries with conviction to keep his volume low, doubling over slightly and catching himself with one hard palm on the window frame, the other clutching at his jerking abdomen as he laughs. 

You can’t hold yourself to the conviction of not laughing along with him, tears brimming in your eyes as you cover your mouth with both hands and give him a swift kick to the shin as if he were the one who said the offending comment in the first place. It earns a girlish yelp from him, and then you’re both laughing harder, cascading to the floor in a heap as you  attempt to get the reins back on this metaphorical horse.

“See?” He coughs obnoxiously and draws a deep breath, flipping over onto his back on the hardwood flooring of your bedroom and swiping at some tears that had formed in his eyes “Now how’n the hell do ya expect me to let’cha walk away with a mouth like ‘at?”.

You sit up straight and shake your head at him incredulously, sighing as you feel your hostility leave with your breath. He looks just as mesmerizing as ever, with his hair fanning out across your floor like splattered paint and his face flush from laughter, stripped of his hat, vest, and overcoat. He must’ve left them with Cinnamon, his trusty palomino steed who was undeniably tied up somewhere on the corner of your parent’s property. He claimed that a horse was nothing more than a form of transportation, but you'd caught him draping his over layers across her back more than once before. It wasn't even that cold outside.

You reach forward and grab his hand in yours, running your thumb along his knuckles, noticing the scrapes and fading bruises but choosing not to bring it up. Who knows what kind of hogwash he’d gotten into since the last time you'd seen him.

“I'm serious. You cannot duel with him. The shame it would bring my family would be odious.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze and choosing instead to focus on his hand in yours, his warm skin working wonders to ground you.

He shifts until he's sitting, pulling your hand to his lips for a quick kiss before he's kicking off his boots, an action your body has an inherent reaction to, muscle memory causing your heart to pick up pace and your face to light fire in anticipation.

“What can I do, then? Tell me, y/n. Jus’ say the words an’ I’ll flatten the Appalachians for ya’.” He murmurs after setting his shoes aside, careful not to let the iron spurs clang against the floor. He reaches forward and tucks your hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest against your cheek, holding you in a gaze that could’ve pinned you down without the help of his warm hand.

You lean into him, bringing your hand up to hold him there, lips falling loose and open as you search for words, finding none. What could he do? The damage was irreparable, it seemed. You couldn’t be selfish over the matter. Your head shakes slightly and the hand that cups his own grips at his fingers and attempts to pry him away from you. You couldn’t. You couldn’t--

“Anythin’, doll. Ya want the sun? I’ll bottl’it. I’ll stop the clouds from rainin’ and ‘is ol’ earth from turnin’ if’n it jus’ means I can have ya.” His harsh whisper cuts through you like glass and he refuses to let you go, instead shifting to his knees and bringing his free hand to mirror the one in use. Leaning over you, desperately caging you in that fucking gaze; eyes a somber and honest amethyst. Your hands come up to grip his wrists as you attempt to blink away sentimental tears, silently begging for reprieve from his overwhelming attention.

“Please, y/n.” He breathes, beckoning you to give in, lips so close to your own that you can feel every syllable, “Please let me have ya.”.

You break, of course you do, capturing his bottom lip between your own, your breathing steadily growing heavy as he jerks your body flush against his, guiding your arms around his neck to free his hands. They roam every dip and valley of your frame over your bedtime linens, resisting the temptation to pause and play along the way before trailing their way down over the globes of your ass, stopping only once they’ve reached your thighs. He picks you up with a bruising grip, your legs locking around his abdomen. He stands, as if you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to the bed. All the while he’s swiping, pushing, curling his tongue against your own like he has something to prove; and maybe he does.

The minute he sets you down your fingers make way to his gun belt. Starting at the string around his thigh, you find yourself smirking cheekily as he tenses at the contact.

“Are these those ‘delicate sensibilities’ you spoke of?” You tease, smiling up at him as you undo the knotting, making sure to let your fingers make as much contact with his clothed inner thigh as possible.

“Don’t go stirrin’ up a hornets nest, now-” He teases right back, his smirk only lasting a fraction of a second. You run a flat palm up the inside of his thighs and across the half-formed tent in his pants, massaging over the area before continuing onto his waist buckle. He hisses, throwing his head back in gratification “Shit, baby, I mean, how long’s’it been now? Four months? Six?”. His fingers dance into your hair, clinging to the locks for some sort of purchase, and the way he seems so desperate for you has you clenching your thighs together.

“Now, do you expect me to clean-handedly believe you travel like you do and don’t bed women when you’re gone?” You ask, rolling your eyes as your fingers dance upward to tug at his waist buckle, the plum stained leather smooth against the pad of your fingers. He shoots a look down at you, tutting disapprovingly.

“ Wh’Kinda guff is ‘at?” He fusses, “Ain’t ever been no other woman. Not since the first day I had ya.”

The words cause your cheeks to flush deeper red than they ever had before, and you have to fight yourself not to loose sight of the task at hand. “No?” you ask cheekily, finally wrestling off his gunbelt and sitting it off gently to the side, iron still in the holster.

“Why would I?” He asks, clenching his teeth and hissing as your hands find his waist and your lips place hot, open mouthed kisses across the front of his pants, loving the way you can feel him twitch and grow harder beneath the confines of the fabric.

“You’re spinning yarn,” You accuse, running a flat tongue against him once, twice before continuing, “Not even have you stopped at a brothel?”.

“Ain't no need, when I got my own right hand ‘nd yer mem’ry.” He’s losing all reverence, the deft fingers on his leftmost hand gripping tighter against your scalp and hips rocking in time with your movements, his right hand coming up to undo the buttons of his shirt, seeking reprieve from the heat that had washed over your tiny little bedroom.

“You are the slyest of stray alley cats.” You can't allow yourself to believe his words, though the thought of him satisfying himself under a blanket of stars makes your pussy throb. Sweaty, dirty, one hand covering his mouth so that he doesn't accidentally call out for you and wake his associates. Jerking himself hard and fast, hips rutting into his fist--

“Dumplin’. On m’ iron n’ what tiny bit’s left o’ my honor; the fuckin’ Virgin Mary ‘erself could offer t’bed me an’ I’d turn ‘er down for you-- shit!” He cuts himself off with a gasp as you take the opportunity provided to you by his freshly unbuttoned shirt, not even allowing him a moment to shed the off-white fabric from his shoulders before you’re running your tongue along the thin trail of hair along his lower abdomen. You unbutton his tight-fitted trousers, whimpering against your own will as his toned muscles twitch and jerk beneath your lips. His body was confirming his convictions. He wanted you.

Hooking your fingers under his pants and underwear, you pull them down until they’re hugging his thighs, squeezing the toned flesh there just right. You're practically panting as his cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen with a wet thud.

For a moment, all you can do is stare with heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. This is why sex was a sin. There was no earthly explanation why something could make you feel such elation; it had to be unholy by nature. Shaky fingers reach up to stroke him, nimble pads running through the coarse tufts of hair at the base before tracing up, up, up the underside of his shaft. You try not to think about how this is the last time you’ll ever see this view, focusing instead on committing every fat vein to memory, hoping you can recall it on the off chance you ever get a bed to yourself again following your dreaded marriage. Your index reaches the very tip and you find yourself swiping away the bead of precum that's formed there, bringing your finger to your mouth and closing your eyes as you do the same with the taste.

“Angel-” A raspy voice from above you has your eyes snapping open, looking up to find Suguru panting, sweating, swallowing hard and desperate “M’an outlaw, not a priest. Ain’t got patience like ‘at-.”.

“My sincere apologies, handsome.” You wrap your hand around him and stroke him in earnest, drinking in the way his face falls open from satisfaction. “I assure you, I didn’t mean to tease you so.”. You hang your mouth open, tongue hanging out and swiping upward against him from base to tip, absolutely adoring the way he sucks air through his teeth. You’re ready to take him in earnest, just as soon as you explain yourself:

“Simply ensuring I can remember, for when I-!”

You’re cut off by his fist slamming your head down on his cock, and low growl leaving him as he bottoms out against the back of your throat, loosening slightly as you slap at his hip, wordlessly reprimanding him as you choke and gag on his girth. He mumbles out an apology, pulling you back halfway and allowing you to pull air back into your lungs through your nose.

“Y’ain’t gon’ half’ta remember anythin’, baby - shit, ah-!” He’s all but face-fucking you, but at least he’s being gentle, shallow little thrusts and much slower than he originally started with. “J-just, fuck, y/n, ya’ cain’t leave, ‘kay? I’ll figure it out, I-”.

It’s your turn to shut him up, taking him deeper and bobbing your head faster, ignoring the tears in your eyes as you watch him slowly lose his composure above you, shedding off his shirt and tossing it behind you as he pants and grunts, his pupils blown wide and a slick sheet of sweat beading on his forehead, causing little strands of hair to stick to his face.

You know you’ve won when his hands grip the side of your face and one leg gets thrown up on the bed bedside you, his mouth open in a silent moan as he takes back control of the pace, bobbing your head up and down on himself erratically as he gasps for air.

All that loose jaw he was spitting is now replaced by a whispered little mantra of “Yes! Yes, Yes- fuck, baby. S’good. Always s’good f’me-”. You hollow your cheeks and flatten your tongue as much as possible, trying desperately not to gag and ruin his pleasure as a mixture of spit and pre-cum drips form the corners of your mouth and down your chin.

A string of curses escape him as he pushes you all the way down until the tip of your nose is buried into the dark hair at his base, holding you still there as his cock jumps and writhes in your throat, your fingernails digging into his hips in protest. Surely they were cutting into his skin by this point.

Just when your vision starts to go dark around the edges, he pulls out of your mouth, cooing at you as you suck in air like you were hungry for it, looking up at him with vulnerable eyes as you swallow thickly, the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally slipping down your face. He catches them with his thumbs, guiding you backwards on the bed and shuffling out of his pants in tandem. Once he's fully nude, he settles between your thighs on his knees.

“Y’okay?” He asks, and you nod, smiling weakly up at him as he cards his fingers through your hair, pushing it back away from your face with the gentleness of a sunday morning rain, like he hadn’t just bruised your esophagus. He smiles, honey sweet, and leans down to kiss your forehead first, and then your lips, groaning lowly as he tastes himself on your tongue, hips rutting as if he couldn't stop them.

Leaning back on his haunches, he taps on the outside of your knee twice.

“Strip f’me, doll.”

And so you do, trembling fingers trailing up your body to undo the buttons on your nightgown one by one, starting at the top and working your way down, your eyes studying his sharp features and wandering gaze as he gathers his hair and secures it back with the elastic band he forever kept on his wrist. You couldn’t remember a time before them, but your mother swore tying hair with silk ribbon was a pain when she was a girl. You pondered now if he'd look just as mesmerizing trying to wrangle all that hair up with a ribbon.

His cat-like eyes trail down your body as you work, and he sucks on his teeth when he realizes your barren underneath the white cotton of your bed clothes. Once your gown has been properly parted, his hands roam their way around the new expanse of your exposed skin, starting at your thighs and working their way up, pushing aside the fabric with his wrists as his rough hands tend to a garden he’s harvested time and time before.

It was by his own design, the way your body reacted to being tended by him. Goosebumps erupted along your skin and flames danced in your abdomen. Your core dripped with anticipation, every swipe of his rein-worn fingers reminding you that he'd yet to touch you where you desired him most. His hands meandered up your sides until he was cupping your breasts, rough thumbs languishing over the feeling of your stiffening nipples beneath him as they swiped and toyed with the flesh. Your back arches from the corn husk mattress and your hands try their best to quell the sparks he was lighting in your tummy; one of them gripping at your sheets above your head and the other covering your mouth to stifle the whimpers that escaped you.

“I ever tell ‘ya how pretty y’are?” He half-murmurs, half-whispers as one hand leaves your breast to traverse back down across your abdomen, never ceasing until he reaches your core, one thumb shallowly dipping into your entrance and stretching your folds apart so he can watch the way she winks at him with every movement, spitting clear arousal with every clench.

“Perhaps only every-- ah!” His fingers shift to pinch and roll your nipple, “-chance you’ve gotten. Still though I am-- nngh!” His thumb pushes deeper into you, “-certainly honored to receive such praises!”.

He smirks at your inherent tendency to keep your wording polite even in the most devilish of circumstances, and he must’ve decided he could take it no longer because before you can blink he’s hiking your legs up and across his sun-kissed shoulders, practically folding you in half and lapping away at your pussy like a man starved.

You would've complained about his so-called “delicate sensibilities” when it came to handling your body in such a manner, but your face was frozen in an open silent moan, your eyes blowing wide and struggling to keep contact with his in the way you knew he liked. If you so much as dared to let any sound escape you, you'd wake not only your parents, but the entire town! 

He knew you too well, everything about his conduction of your body had been fine tuned. The way he toyed around with your clit in his mouth had your body temperature rising to concerning levels, your arousal absolutely coating his face in a matter of moments. Not that he didn't expect it, you knew. In fact, it was probably precisely why he'd pulled his hair back. He adored it too, this you could also tell. From this angle, you got a front row seat to how his eyes rolled back in his head as he flicked and swiped his tongue against your core, up and down and back and forth and something you couldn't care to ponder on- stars, maybe? Never the matter.

A familiar tightness was building in your stomach, your panting growing faster and more needy as you think to yourself,

My god, please help me! How am I to go the rest of my life without this wrong I do?

Suguru pushes a flat hand against your mouth before slipping two fingers inside of you, and praise heaven for the man as well as his forethought because you lose your battle with your own throat the second he begins pumping in and out of you in perfect harmony with his tongue, crying out into his hand as your hips begin to rut against him in a desperate plea for faster, harder, more.

He happily obliges, curling his fingers against that god-forsaken spot inside you you’d never been able to find on your own in all your nights waiting for him, leveraging into you with a pace and force that reminded you of his deviant side. This version of him wasn't Suguru, the man who brought you rocks and flowers and exotic wines from his travels. This was not Suguru, the boy breezing by you at the market with sharp features and tempting eyes. No, this was Sure Shot Suguru Geto, the man who robbed and killed and gambled. Save your soul, you loved him.

Your hands fly into his hair as your hips betray you, all but humping his face in time with his movements as the tension inside you rises to a boiling heat, your knuckles gripping his hair beneath his bun so cruelly but you know he doesn't mind, not only from experience but from the way he groans directly into you as his eyes flutter shut. He transitions from licking to suckling on your clit and it's the final nail in the coffin for you. Your orgasm fires off like a gun shot, sharp and unfathomably intense as you scream into his hand, your legs absolutely spasming around his head with the force of it alone, your whole body tensing and jerking so hard that you fear you may have torn something as he continues his ministrations to push you through your high, never ceasing until you bite at his hand and kick at his shoulder.

He makes his way back to your face, chuckling as he captures your plush lips with his own, not leaving even a breaths span of time before he's nudging his tip into your tight entrance, swallowing your gasps and whines as if he may never taste them again.

“More, baby, more- please?” You manage to choke out between swipes of his tongue. He stills momentarily, pausing to scan your face, something unreadable plaguing his sweat lined features. You attempt to rut your hips and give yourself some reprieve, but one rope-warn hand grips you at your bare hip, holding you against the mattress effortlessly.

“Suguru!” You scold, and his lips quirk in the slightest of ways.

“Call me that again.”

“...Your name?”

“By god ‘m so glad yer pretty.” He giggles and pushes into you a few more inches harshly, his smile growing wilder as you yelp, both of you immediately pausing to listen for noise from the other rooms. 

Silence.

“Not m’name, peach. ‘At lil’ thing you said before-” His voice is quieter now.

“Baby?”

He pushes into your further, more gentle this time, the hand that was on your hip snaking up to grip your face and hold your gaze “Atta girl. You keep callin’ me that and I’m gon’ put a baby in ya’, swear solemn.”.

Your face contorts as his words hit you and he bottoms out, tip pressing against your womb and girth stretching you so wide. It burns, it hurts, it feels so good-- and his words? You knew they held no weight but the thought had you gushing around him. You needed him to move, and move now.

“Always naggin’ ‘bout my mouth, but look at ya’ now, darlin’- droolin’ on my cock all’f’r some nasty words.” He demeans as he begins to roll his hips into you, smirking as your hands grip at his biceps and your legs fall open wide for him, “Mmm y’like’at idea, huh? Stuff ya so full’a me that ol’ fuckin’ Nanami Kento has t’ raise my kid if’n he wants to take my wife?”.

You don't reply to that, you can’t because he’s steadily picking up pace, fucking you with determination that you knew was coming from somewhere other than his cock. No, of all the times he’d taken you prior, this one was different. Stubborn, vivace, and oh so frantic. You find yourself biting down on his shoulder as he slams against your soft walls, each time pulling almost entirely out before pounding back into you again, bruising your cervix like he wanted to mark you from the inside out. He’s spewing guttural rumbles and low moans from above you, and each one only makes you want him more. Not just here, not just now, but forever and then some.

“I love you, y’hear me?” His voice is deeper than usual, husky, somewhat of a moan in your ear, “Don't’cha ever tell me I cain’t ever again.”.

Each word is accentuated with a sharp thrust, desire and want and desperate prayer rearranging your very being. All you can do is whimper his name in response. He trails kisses along your neckline, they almost feel apologetic.

How absolutely inhumane time was, only the night left to claim every part of each other before it was ripped away, burnt to nothing but a memory of a flame that once shone so brightly in the darkness. Despite the way every stroke has your mind melting away, you find yourself realizing that perhaps this wasn’t Sure Shot at all, but instead just Suguru, a helplessly enamored man on the verge of losing his love on top of everything he’d already lost in the past few years. You choke out a sob, unsure if it’s the pleasure or the pain or the realization that has you blubbering, but it didn’t matter all the same. You were still adulterated, he was still taken with you, you were still duty-bound to marry another, and he was still hammering into you like his life depended on it.

You feel your body begin to contract, thighs starting to squeeze around him as he beats against your favorite spot so deep inside, the feeling almost tormenting you into another release.

“Aht, aht, now don’t go tensin’ up on me, babydoll.” He doesn’t stop his arietations, though, as he leans back to encase your tender throat with his fingers. The simple action is enough to have that coil inside you winding tighter at an exponential rate, “Ya’ know by now it’s better when ya relax f’me. Thought I had ya well trained, mm? Now be good f’me and loosen up- atta girl, atta girl-”.

You do your best to let your thighs fall slack and all you can feel is the way he’s piledriving into you, closing your eyes and zoning in on that place inside where his cock is shooting sparks across your body over and over and over. His fingers begin to tighten around your sensitive throat and your pussy follows suit around his shaft. You think you hear him breathe out a string of whispered curses, but you can't tell with the way your vision is beginning to go white and fuzzy. His free hand reaches around to flick across your clit in quick, frantic motions, and you’d be so appreciative of his hand on your throat if you could think anything at all. You gargle out a strangled noise as you come undone beneath him for the second time that night, your hands coming up to grip at his wrist, your head pounding backwards into your sheets and hair bouncing wildly as his thrusts become somehow stronger, but all the while more erratic. He was close behind you, this you knew.

A few more pumps and he’s pulling out of you, letting go of your neck to lean back on his haunches and fist his cock with ferocity, hissing as his seed splatters across your abdomen, hot and sticky. You gasp for air, feeling like you’d just run a few miles in the summer heat, gargling and sputtering as you attempt to re-ground yourself.

A tender hand finds your cheek, and your eyes flutter open to find his dark features gazing at you longingly, his bottom lip pushed out in a small pout.

“M’okay.” You assure, turning to press a kiss into his palm and smiling up at him lazily. He mirrors that and leans down to plant a gentle kiss against your lips, mumbling an apology for being so rough.

“Thank you most kindly for refraining from sowing your oats in me.” Your brain feels numb.

He lets his head fall into your shoulder to stifle his giggles “C’mon, ditz. Let's get ya’ cleaned up and light us a hand roll.”. A tender kiss against your shoulder.

A few minutes later you're curled up between his spread legs on the floor just by your window, him in nothing but his pants and you wrapped in his shirt. You watch over your shoulder as he produces a single cigarette from his pocket, striking the match he’d stolen from atop your armoire against the rough grain of your window, marveling at the way the light paints his skin orange as he puffs a few times to get the stick lit. When he’s done, he shakes away the flame and disposes of the match on your windowsill, draping one arm around you and pulling you backwards until your back is flush with his bare chest.

He is careful when he blows the smoke away from your face, but you’re not as you snatch the cigarette away from him as soon as he’s finished the first drag, bringing it to your lips and drawing in a breath of smoke just as big as his own.

“Woah, Nellie!” He teases, resting his cheek against the crown of your head, “Didn’t know y’was such’n avid smoker.”.

“I most certainly am not!” You tease right back. “I only do such unfavorable, unladylike things in the presence of scoundrels such as yourself.”.

He chuckles, leaning forward to puff on the cigarette as you hold it up for him. You scold yourself for craving the plush of his lips again so soon. Not only did you just finish bedding him, but you also could never do so again. Well, at least not after the night was through. For a while, the two of you stay like that, silently watching the stars and smoking your cares away to the best of your ability. The eastern crickets sang a song of farewell as you sat comfortable in the quiet serenity of your darkened room, a place that had been only for the two of you to share for so long, but would be no longer come dawn. Neither of you, it seems, wants to acknowledge it, savoring the calm before the raging storm of forever comes for you with the rise of the sun.

It’s just after he’s lit the third hand roll of the night that he suggests something so foolish, so childish and stupid, that you aren’t sure you heard him correctly the first time.

“Come away with me.”

You shift so that you’re setting sideways in his lap, looking up at him like he’d sprouted a third eyeball right in the center of his suntanned forehead. A beat, and then two passes, and you realize he’s serious.

“Surely you’ve gone mad. Out west?”

He nods “Yes’m.”.

“And just where shall we sleep? Eat? Make love?” If your eyes were to grow any wider they would certainly pop out of your head.

“Wherever the wind carries us, that’s’a best part-”

“Suguru!” A scoff and a laugh of disbelief escapes your gaping mouth, shaking your head at him in such unconvincibility.

“ ’M stone cold, baby. On my Ma-!” His tone sounds pleading, and he’s smiling hopefully, like a child who really hopes that Santa will leave a tommy gun under his tree.

“Good thing she's already under, bless her soul.” You snatch the cigarette from him and puff like your life depends on it. Truly, he would be the death of you.

“You hush’up.” He laughs, taking the hand roll back and clenching in between his teeth, using one hand to pull you by the bicep until the both of you are on your knees, elbows resting on the window as he speaks.

“Y’ain't ever gon’ know the things I’ve seen ‘less-n ya light a shuck with me. Baby there’s deserts, canyons, caves that shoot right down t’hell itself and fields a’ clovers ‘n wildflowers just as far’s yer pretty lil’ eyes could ever see-” As he talks, his hands make dramatic gestures in front of the two of you, as if he could physically paint the views into the open air before you.

“There are also snakes, and bears, and bandits-” You argue, but he cuts you off with a wink and a nudge.

“That's why yer com’n’ with me, cain’t no varmint catch ya’ if you're tucked under my arm!”

A defeated sigh escapes you, uninterested in playing these childish games of possibilities with him, “Pray tell, does your jaw ever ache from how much you jabber on?”.

His face falls slightly, but he’s still smiling. Softer now. Begging.

“Only for you, if’n ’m honest.”

You glare at him with knowing eyes, trying your best to simply look some sense into him, but of course your attempt is unsuccessful, the both of you erupting into giggles.

“Oh,” You take a long sigh as you calm yourself, “How am I to carry on without you?”.

“Y’ain’t. Because yer comin’ with me.”

“Suguru.” Now you sound like the one pleading, looking up at him with sad eyes as you steal the cigarette directly from his mouth and take another drag. And then, on the exhale; “My family, hopeful lover. Why is it can’t you understand I have a responsibility to-”

“I do.” He reaches forward and grabs your jaw, leaning inward, “I can acknowledge the corn. Ain’t claimin’ no ignorance here. But to see ya’ sell yerself for the good graces of society? I cain’t hang my hat on ‘at. I’m beggin’ ya, baby. ‘N Imma real proud man. Be selfish, just this once. Come away with me.”.

For a moment, all you can do is stare, your stomach sinking as you realized he was right. Your whole life you'd been a proper young lady. Honing your craft with your mother in the kitchen while the neighborhood boys played soccer in the fields. You learned to cook, to clean, to play piano forte in hopes to one day secure a rich husband, not for yourself, but for the hope that one day he could provide them more than this cottage on the outskirts of town. Sitting here now, though, you realized that was never what you wanted. It was what everyone else wanted of you.

“...Tonight?” You whisper, and immediately he’s lighting up from the inside out, his grin wild and wide as he surges forward and captures you between his arms, squeezing the life out of you as you giggle and do your best to hold the lit cigarette away from the two of you. He captures your lips in a kiss, and then another, and another, until you’re fussing at him to answer your question.

“Not tonight, tomorra. Gotta get some things’n order. Stock up on sum fixin’s. Shoot a letter to ‘ol Six Eyes out west and pray it arrives before we do-”

Oh, right. You scrunch your face up. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Ya have my blessin’ t’shoot him.”

Okay, you’re excited again “I get a gun?!”. 

He snorts and steals the cigarette back from you, drawing in the last of it and nodding hesitantly “Affirmative, tho I gotta wonder if it’ll be the death a’ me.”.

You hum, your eyes wandering out into the night as you ponder aloud.

“If I am to be completely vulnerable, I do not wish to shoot anyone.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek “The gun ain't f’people, peach- it's for ‘em bears n’ snakes ya’ mentioned. I'll handle the people, don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head over’it.”

***

You couldn’t sleep after he left that night, a sure case of the morbs settling over you as you packed according to Suguru’s instruction. That is to say, lightly. A simple change of clothing and a leather bound journal for writing was basically all you would leave with.

This house, though not one of grandeur, had held you since you were but a babe. Your first steps were taken on this very hardwood, your height from every year notched into the frame of your bedroom door by your Pa’s pocketknife- up until you stopped growing at sixteen or so, that is. The crops from the garden had nourished you, the trees from the wood line knew your deepest secrets. You’d chased and caught frogs here, learned to read and write here, laughed and cried here, been bedded by a ill-fated outlaw here, and ultimately decided to make haste with him on westward winds. Here.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to think to hardly on your parents, reminding yourself of Suguru’s words:

“Be selfish, just this once.”

Right. He was right. From now on, you are living life for you. Not for your Mama and Pa. Not for what the pew regulars would think of you. Not for the coffee-sisters, nor the gossip in the marketplace.

…That was, until you snuck as silently as possible through the door of all you’d ever known, only to find your Mama leaning against the wooden railing of the porch, watching the sky ever-so-slightly lighten with each passing moment.

Your heart plummeted through the floor as you nearly dropped your bag from your shoulder in despair. Suguru would be arriving any moment. Surely if she were to see him she would simply fall dead.

“The coffee-sisters at tea last Saturday were just gushing about how there's quite a bit of wide open space out there in the unclaimed west.” is her version of a ‘goodmorning’. She doesn’t even turn around, keeping her stare set off into the distance.

You swallow thickly, trying to keep as normal as possible, “Mama? Why are you awake at such an hour?”.

She ignores you, staring, staring, staring still into the horizon, boring holes into the mountains in the distance. The same ones that hand held you, and her, and her mother, and the mother before.

“You know what's so grand about so much open air?”

You deflate, tears welling to your eyes as the realization dawns upon you that she must know. The one day you decide to run away with a vagabond outlaw is the one day she happens to be up before the sun, standing on the porch, waffling poetic about the unclaimed west? Nonsense. You could only hope this didn’t end in a shootout between Suguru and your father. Anxiety builds and pressurizes in your chest and you stay stone silent, trying to think of a way to de-escalate the aforementioned confrontation before it had even begun.

“There's so much space to grow. A gentleman at the market mentioned to me of his brother who ranches cattle out there. In his most recent letter, he spoke of cacti that grow to three times the height of your average man. Isn't that lovely, my girl?” Finally, she turns to look at you, smiling gently. Her face looks so much like your own but older, wiser.

Your brow dips in confusion. Was this or was it not the part where she was supposed to call you a harlot? Was she not to disown you? To tell you the very thing you’d been telling yourself since Suguru first bedded you; that you were a wretched, wretched, woman and surely when the roll is called on high you will be sent southward?

“Mama, of what do you speak?” The tears brimming your eyes are threatening to fall, but you tell yourself you must remain brave. You were a grown woman, making grown woman choices now.

“Add to that wonder, if the rumors are to be believed they grow flowers! Big, beautiful vibrant blooms from the toughest of plants this world has to offer. I thought unto myself; ‘My good Lord, how fitting. It must be by design.’. Do you understand me, daughter?” she cocks her head at you, and you come to lean beside her on the railing.

“No, Mama. I’m afraid I’m terribly lost.” You aren’t sure why it is you’re whispering, you’d already been caught, after all.

She takes your hand in her own, smiling at you, chuckling lightheartedly, as if she were watching a baby child dance about, “I'm saying to you, girl, that good things come from sharpened situations. There may come a time that you prick yourself to find something brighter than your eyes have seen… but you know of that already, no?”.

The tears begin to fall from the corners of your eyes and you mimic her smile back at her, elation washing over you like fresh spring rain. She was giving you permission. She knew, and still-

“Ma, how did you discover me?” you breathe, and she laughs genuinely, patting your hand.

“I take night strolls in the garden when your father's fog horn snoring keeps me awake. It was just this time last year that I turned to see a rather handsome young man leaned against your open window.”

Your cheeks go red and you hold a palm to your face, shaking your head lightly before you wipe at your tears.

“I must admit, I considered waking your father. You're the upmost of lucky he sleeps like a rock, by the way. A word of advice from an old maid? Tuck a pillow between your headboard and the wall to still the bed--”

“Mama, please! I never meant to bring you shame, of this I swear-!” You cut her off, taking both of her hands in your own, threatening to fall back into the treacherous place your mind had been just moments before.

“My love, everyone beds before they're married these days. They simply do not speak of it, and then there is nothing to say of the matter. I myself was two courses missed when I married your father. The world kept spinning, much contrary to the belief of your Nan.” She shrugs dismissively as you let go of her hands, and all you can do is stare at her; awestruck. Who was this woman standing in front of you now?

“Anyway, If I may continue. I stood out there for quite some time, weighing upon my options. The two of you never even noticed me, so lost in each other that I think I could've marched right up to him and pinched his tight little ass cheeks before either of you took note--”

“Mama!! My word!!!” You gasp, and bark out an incredulous laugh at her words. Your mother, never once in all your live days, had been so crass in front of you.

She laughs too, slapping at your arm and hushing you, “Hush, child! You’ll wake your Pa!”.

Your laughter settles into tender smiles. You were going to miss her most furiously.

She grips both of your shoulders as she speaks.

“I knew that the clock had been set in motion by the way he looked at you. What I saw that wonderful night was the sweet smile of a man that had made up his mind standing by the window in the moonlight. And what of you? Oh glory in the highest, I hadn't seen that look on your face since you were a babe! Not since before this world had taught you it isn't polite for ladies to laugh with no regard for looking proper.”

“I love him, Mama.” You admit, chuckling lightly with watery eyes, “And he loves me, too. Of this I am most certain.”.

“I know.” She pats your shoulder, and then continues, “I had never seen you look so miserable until Nanami Kento showed up on our doorstep, either. A shame, but your heart is already tucked deep in someone else's pocket, I fear.”.

You nod, slow and grave. “If there’s one thing of which I must apologize, it is that. I am terribly sorry for poor Nanami.”.

“Do not be so. Perhaps I will strike lucky and your father will keel over when he wakes to find you gone. More for me.”

“Oh, do not curse him so!” You both snicker again.

She pulls you into a tight hug, squeezing you for all you’re worth, which is maybe more than you knew. It’s around that time that you hear a familiar sound, both of your heads turning to watch as Suguru slowly fades into view, the steady thump of Cinnamon’s hooves against the soft earth growing rhythmically louder as they approach in a slow trot.

You turn back to your mother, your eyes apprehensive. She grabs your head and presses her lips to the center of your forehead, “Go now, child, before your father wakes. Do not forget to write, we will be here should you return. We will be here until the roll is called on high. As for you, though, adventure awaits.”.

With her graces, you step away from the porch, and it feels like you’ve stepped off a ledge into something beautiful. You run to meet him, your shoes padding against the grass and your dress billowing against the motion, never ceasing until he’s bringing Cinnamon to a halt so he can dismount and catch you as you fly into his arms, wrapping you in a hug as if he hadn’t just seen you a few hours prior. He looks good, he always looks good, but it’s a rarity for you to see him in his full get up. You wonder if you, too, will require such gear, and even more so if your bandana and gun belt will be stained purple to match.

He eyes your mother from the considerable distance and she waves. He returns the greeting by way of removing his stetson from his head, pressing it to his chest and bowing lightly in her direction, revealing his hair had been wrangled back into two tight plaits on either side of his head. While he’s distracted, you snatch his hat from his hands, plopping it on your own head, an action that has him laughing, his eyes crinkling up and twinkling with lovesomeness.

“Ya’ wear it much better’n I ever could, dumplin’. Now lets brush th’ breeze ‘for someone decides ‘ta kill me for this.”

***

“Y’know what ‘at ol’ Six Eyed bastard tells pretty young things like you?” Suguru asks through a mouthful of apple, and you’d chastise him for his manners if he wasn't graced with such beauty and you weren't cursed to be so sleepy.

You’d made it about twenty miles before Cinnamon needed to rest. You're all shaded by a tall oak tree, you and Suguru leaning against its base, your hands holding onto his bicep and your cheek rested against his shoulder, his hat still on your head.

“Mm?” You question, barely lucid, and he chuckles, holding the core up for Cinnamon which she's more than happy to accept, crunching almost as obnoxiously as her dear handler had been just moments before.

“He tells’em, ‘You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy--’.” 

You lift your head to ensure he sees you roll your eyes, and he laughs, dipping beneath the brim of his own hat to steal a kiss from you, soft and slow.

[theflagscene]

Can we just talk for a minute about the morning after in Tharn’s apartment during episode five while they were getting ready together and the Monk calls Tharn to speak to him, Phaya motions to Tharn to put it on speaker when he hears who it is. Tharn doesn’t question it for a second, just does it and continues listening to what he has to say only for Phaya to reply instead of Tharn, which did not surprise the Monk at all nor does Tharn react like they should be hiding that they’re cohabiting. Remembering that up until the night before, the only person who knew that Phaya would be staying with Tharn for a while was Yai (he was sent to Phaya’s place to get him some clothes and stuff). Even Chalothon wasn’t expecting to see Phaya there, and he’s a creepy green eyed stalker snake deity. But to just go on speaker phone together with the Monk (the man who basically raised Tharn) without any preamble? Like my dudes, my bros, my lil cop idiots. You’ve skipped right past the dating stage and are now 4 years into marriage.

[astaroth1357]

Demons in the Dark 

What if they have glow-in-the-dark eyes?

Contents: No warnings aside vague mentions of imminent danger. And bugs and snakes.

~♡♡♡~

Lucifer

Seeing Lucifer in a dark room is incredibly unsettling. You know those horror movies where the protagonist sees a pair of demonic eyes from shadows? You've found the inspiration.

His eyes burn with the color and intensity of molten glass and they that just loom ominously in the darkness, usually well above people's heads!

Lucifer knows exactly how haunting his eyes can look, which is why he prefers to sneak up on Mammon when it's dark and he's up to no good… 

The mental image of Lucifer's crimson eyes have long since burned their way into the secondborn's nightmares...

He tries his best not to scare MC with them, but it's undeniably unnerving to see disks of pure hellfire roaming around the kitchen looking for a glass of water…

Mammon

His eyes glow just the prettiest shade of gold you'll ever see. Think of a mound of ancient coins glinting away under a treasure hunter's torchlight.

Mammon knows full well how attention grabbing his eyes are, which is part of why he always wears sunglasses when out stealing. People can't see'em glow if they're all tinted up behind his frames!!

He's also pretty proud that his eyes don't give people nightmares like Lucifer's, but since they glow like little sundrops when he's out, moths fly into his face… a lot…

He is far too embarrassed to admit to MC that he also wears his sunglasses outside for bug protection, so he makes up some shit about it being part of "Devildom-style" they just wouldn't understand.

Sometimes, the MC swears that if they look close, his pupils look like Grimm signs. But has to be a trick of the light… Right?

Leviathan 

Levi's eyes glow a citrine orange but weirdly, his pupils actually slit instead of dilate in the dark.

Though he will never admit it, but he actually has pretty bad night vision in his normal form. (Which isn't that surprising given all of screens he stares at.)

It's a little comical watching Levi stumble around in the dark if he needs to go grab something. The MC can just follow his eyes as he smacks into a lot of walls…

His demon form can kind of make up for it, but only so much. If things get too dark, Levi can change into it so he can see his surroundings with the help of UV light.

"Snake Vision" makes the dark more manageable, but it's not very good for gaming at all so he rarely thinks to use it. Everybody knows that past a certain brightness in the room, don't expect Levi to be of much help.

Satan

Magically enchanted his eyes to look exactly like a green-eyed cat's in the dark. I'm dead serious.

Imagine just going about your business then two grown man-sized feline eyes pop out from behind a corner. They even have nocturnal eyeshine so feels like you're being hunted!

Sometimes he can't help himself and he'll sneak up on people with his eyes closed so he can open them over their shoulders or peeking around corners.

He has given the whole House about as many heart attacks as Lucifer has pulling those shenanigans, I swear…

Belphie is the only one generally unaffected and he always gets a big laugh from when Satan scares the others. The youngest boys just be like that, unfortunately...

Asmodeus 

His eyes look like a kaleidoscope in low light. Every slight tilt of his head makes them reflect a whole new wave of fractals and colors.

Asmo is just as aware as Mammon that his eyes are gorgeous, but unlike Mammon he wouldn't DARE cover them up!! Sunglasses are for sunny days, which they don't ever get down in Hell.

Asmo's eyes are integral to his charm spells, so he takes extra care to be sure that they are as healthy and bright as they can be! He won't even accept eyebags.

Seeing Asmo's eyes in the dark kind of like seeing a trippy optical illusion just... staring at you. It's less unnerving than the others but it's equally hard to ignore.

To this day, he brags that it was his eyes that caught Solomon's attention when they first met. (Solomon actually wanted to pluck them out to use as potion ingredients, but he'll let that stay a secret.)

Beelzebub

Beel's eyes are probably the most normal of all of the family unless you look at them suuuper closely.

In his normal form, his eyes will just glow a nice shade of purple with nothing fancy happening. But in his demon form, they get that glassy, compounded film akin to insects with his iris still trapped and moving around under the surface.

Thankfully, they do not bulge out of his skull. They even give him the ability to see and track objects in fast motion, which does wonders for his reaction time.

... Somewhat unfortunately, though, his line of sight is more narrow than an inscets so it can look like he's trying to look everywhere all at once to compensate. His eyes will constantly dart around the room as if he is trying to follow the flight pattern of a coked out fly.

At least he mostly only uses this during fights or sporting events where they really come in handy. Honestly, if there's anything more jarring than red eyes, it's stumbling across bug-eyes that they can practically see right through you.

Belphegor 

Belphie's eyes glow purple, but they don't shine nearly as brightly as his brothers'. In fact, they have a steady, calming pulse when stared at which is very unnerving.

Total darkness is really when Belphie gives off his best "sleep paralysis demon" vibes. His eyes are really relaxing to look at, but only in the same way that the little light on an angler fish would be enticing to its prey. It's a trap, don't fall for it.

Belphie CAN put people to sleep this way, but he hates doing it because it means he has to somehow not blink for ages. He really has to be motivated to want to see someone zonked out.

For a couple centuries, Mammon would send Belphie to talk to Lucifer if he was working too late in order to (compassionately) knock their brother out so he could get some rest.

Lucifer's since gotten wise to this trick, but sometimes if he's really been going too long he will forget until he wakes up on the nearest couch post Belphie "convincing" him to take a nap.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Cryptid's Keeper | Yandere Obanai Iguro

When you were called to bring aid to an isolated village you were prepared to execute a minor cryptid that was probably picking at crops occasionally. It would make sense for a small town to consider that an emergency: it’s there supply. What you weren’t expecting was the threat to have been ravenously feasting on the residents of the town itself. The town was far too afraid to meet you at the border of their land without all of them linked to one another by each other’s hands. Elders and children, women and men, teens, and young adults alike tightly grasping at each other while they bowed in greeting.

They told of a mighty beast wrapped in pearl white scales with eyes red as the blood of it’s victims. Swallowing hordes of men armed with pitchforks and torches in one single night. The tales they told of this cryptid varied in all matter of atrocities–from swallowing the living to strangulating children to crushing those lucky enough to flee. But the stand-alone trait of ever story told to you was of the ghost eyed witch that’d walk the streets of the town. Without fail this witch would wear a thin veil that had the pattern similar to that of a zebra. They suspected their ghost eyes which they must have plucked from the peach trees themselves and an stone of jade from some treasure hidden deep in the forest. It would appear that any who crossed paths with the witch would be dead before morning on account of the beast, sometimes it’d be their whole family as well. 

The townspeople were willing to pay a hefty sum for your services, practically begging you to save them. Naturally you agreed. This was your job to hunt and trap troublesome cryptids in a world that knew nothing better. The aspect of the witch intrigued you the most. In your many travels you found that witch was just a word to label humans more in tune with their mystical side. Heck your sure if you hadn’t made a career of it you’d be labeled one yourself.

It was easy to track the beast, the clear mark of scales and muscle slithering on the ground led into the forest on an unmarked but used path. It made you wonder if they attempted to investigate at all. Trudging onward you prepared for the hassle it’d be to subdue a creature with track marks so much bigger than yourself.

It led to a cave near a river; a peaceful place for the horror that supposedly lived there. You head in, stepping over a wall of bones sticking up like spikes. Eyeing a few human skulls creating a path deeper inside. This place clearly has a human’s touch, while the decoration was dismal and dark there was clearly a sense of pride present. Navigating with the skulls it eventually led to a large opening where you found the cryptid culprits. 

Wrapped around itself was a giant white snake which reflected the minimal light given by one lone torch on the wall; giving it an orange glow. In the middle of it was a man, with long black hair a scar across his mouth and a single loin cloth draped between his legs. Feeling the heat on your cheeks, you knocked your staff on the rocky floor to alert them. You felt as though you were intruding on something private. Sure enough they startled awake both on the defense at your unexpected arrival. 

“Hello there! I’ve heard you two have been giving the town quite a few problems!”

You smile while dodging the giant snake’s strike, somersaulting over the expanse of their tail. It set you up to parry the primitive spear jutting at you from the wild man. He only responded in grunts and shouts that helped the snake coordinate attacks at you. But none of it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle; ultimately analyzing their teamwork.

“You two seem close,” you made an aerial over the snakes striking maw delivering a kick to the wild man who was charging a new weapon, “Makes me wonder why you’d bother the people in the village in the first place.”

An orange and green pair of eyes widened at that, standing a ways away while the snake hissed at you before attempting to strangle you again. This was getting more and more interesting. “So you can understand me? Then tell me why?”

The snake was getting tired and the man was getting irritated. This–by your prediction–would be ending very soon.

Once again taking the man head on you blocked with your staff as you egged him on. Despite not having the technique you did he had strength and a swiftness that rivaled the snake’s.

“All…deserved to be punished.” 

The voice that came was hoarse, like it wasn’t used often. The voice was so sudden it caught you off-guard, leaving you barely enough time to block and kick him back. The look on your face must’ve said enough.

“All of them deserve death!”

“Why? What did they do?”

He paused his attack, his pupils shaking with the answer to that question–looking down to compose himself. Sensing his distress the snake slithered from you curling around the man to comfort him. You also lowered your defenses your heart preparing for the pain he would hopefully share.

“They made me this way,” he sounded like he was fighting tears as he tightened his fists, “by trying to sacrifice me…for this they all must pay…Including You!”

He launched at you on the head of his snake, using the speed of snake and his own jumping to aim at your head. Like before you dodged this time shoving your staff into the ground. Without your staff occupying your hands you weaved underneath the snake and through it’s coils to strike at the reptile’s pressure points. The cave shook as the snake slammed limply on the ground. Rolling off to safety the wild man shouted running to cradle the snake’s snout, “Kabamaru!?” 

Hearing the light sound of sniffles you cursed yourself for going too far. Sitting down on the ground you leaned along the rocky wall opposite to the two. Pulling out a bottle of sake and two cups you brought with you, setting them down. 

“He’s not dead. Just sleeping.” he turned to look at you his eyes softening from a glare. You continued,”I figured without him egging you on you can tell me a bit more about yourself.” 

Offering a cup to him you took a sip of yours, letting out a happy sigh as the liquid tingled down your throat. Showing him that it was safe you let him down his zebra skin and come in closer to you. 

There you were able to piece lesser rumors with his own testimony. Apparently the town used to be ran by a tribe of women who idolized a giant snake in the forest. Organizing gatherings and practices to honor said snake. This tribe of women for generations had daughters to uphold it’s legacy of a matriarch loyal to this snake. Alas when they birthed a boy those in town deemed him a curse making the women decide that his death at the hands of the snake would be their blessing and atonement for his existence. Part of the ceremony included slicing his mouth wider and tying him with the carcass of the exotic creature—the zebra—in the forest to be eaten by their deity: the White Snake. Come to find that the snake was a peaceful creature that was truly infuriated at finding the poor boy in the state he was. Sheltering him, feeding him, protecting him, and one day attacking the people he identified as revenge for him. 

“I see now, why you attack them so viciously. What you went through was awful.”

You took another swig from the bottle looking at the man who was leaning on a sluggish Kaburamaru. He was watching you intently probably gauging your reactions to his story, it made you wonder when was the last time he spoke with any one properly.

It is then you yawned, standing up and stretching. Disregarding both their suspicious looks you walked to your staff, resting it on your shoulders casually as the both got into a defensive stance. You walked up that rocky path, waving over your shoulder with a smile.

“Tomorrow Iguro. I’ll bring you something sweet from the town. Until then.”

Just like that you returned to the townspeople all eager to know if you’ve slain the beast. Only for you to yawn in their faces and say your still investigating, retreating to the inn you were gifted for your stay here.

As expected violent cryptids were never just that in a world that knows no better. 

And as such it was your job to help.

Whether that was teaching the world or the cryptid themself.

In this case the cryptid and his keeper.

_____________________________________________________________

Obanai Iguro didn’t kill for no reason. 

When he walked through the town he was being gracious. An olive branch extended to an unforgiving people. All he was asking was that he be able to walk into town without injury or insult. Without fail though someone in town would either yell obscenities or attempt to attack him. 

He vowed the day he could freely walk in town would be the day no one would suffer his wrath. 

That day had never come. 

But the day someone looked in his eyes with no fear for him had come. A missionary with dyed hair and smile brighter than the sun was the first. She happened to catch him by his lonesome, asking for directions to the town. 

He cursed himself for letting his naivete consume him. 

Doing as she asked he hoped foolishly that the townspeople could learn. Take the missionary’s optimism and kindness as a symbol for peace. That when they saw the absolute vision of beauty hand in hand with a freak him they’d have a change of heart or at least touch the hearts of a few.

He was wrong.

So so wrong.

The collective gasps were a precursor to the violent screaming that followed. Rocks, fruit, eventually knives were thrown at both of them. He remembered taking the brunt of it turning the nun away from the spiteful horde. Looking down at her, even in the face of their berating she was smiling up at him. It warmed his heart. It made him willing to forgive. Until she caught sight of her convent, fellow missionaries standing silently aside, running to them with renewed vigor. She happily proclaimed that she’d found her mission aiming to help bridge the gap between the misunderstood and the collective. She recited different teachings looking pridefully as she waited for their response. Dropping her smile when they finally spoke.

“You’ve transgressed for the last time, Mitsuri. We had such high hopes.”

They pulled at her hair, they stripped her of her robes before encouraging the town to bring all their aggressions to her. Claiming it was a just punishment for the young and unruly nun who continued to fail with every task they gave her. 

He doubted he could’ve waited for Kaburamaru if he tried. Using his bare fists to pummel anyone who’s hand was raised to attack Mitsuri. Fighting them as best as he could but he was only one man. 

Strong but not strong enough.

By the time Kaburamaru arrived and had begun to swallow majority of the fleeing mob, it was already too late. Poor Mitsuri. The sun in Iguro’s night had set, giving him one last smile and an indirect kiss on the scar across his face. 

It broke his heart further. 

Shuffling his already broken heart, he took it’s shards and made a wall. A thorny wall that took his graciousness and shrivelled it to nothing. Now transgressions he would have chosen mercy for invoked his wrath all the same. Calling on Kaburamaru to help quell his fury. 

Once again returning to his precious solitude with Kaburamaru by his side. 

But fate would refuse this again sending a monster catcher to disrupt his peace. Agile, sly, and a powerful fighter the monster catcher was like no one he’d met before. Iguro did have a few encounters with unexplainable creatures and violent entities but none were like them. Never had he and Kaburamaru been brought to their knees (coils?) by  a single person, all who casually invites him to chat over a drink. 

“Come come its a creation of my own. This game is going to get us drunk so fast!”

Mitsuri was casual too but the interaction was surface. It was their first and last time meeting after all. The monster hunter spoke much more often, returning with another alcoholic beverage and cups to share while talking about nothing in paticular. Once again that estranged normalcy was creeping up again and Iguro refused to fall for it again.

“Oh wow that came out of nowhere, Iguro. Now let’s get back to drinking shall we?”

Holding the tip of his spear between two fingers the monster hunter continued to smile at him. Thwarting his attempts to chase them away or at least save himself the pain he was bound to feel. Even Kaburamaru wasn’t attempting to fight anymore, only watching when Iguro attempted to attack. 

He hated how little it offended them. And how much it hurt him. Already he was feeling the same warmth he felt back then. When he wasn’t trying to attack, the smile they shared was like the moon. Reflecting the light given to him so long ago. But he feared he’d lose it again. Like Mitsuri they were far too kind when regarding the people in town.

“At least the kids don’t know any better. Leave them out of it, okay Iguro?”

The night-terrors would start again picturing his hunter bloodied and defeated at the feet of an angry crowd. Hand-in-hand with Mitsuri as they both smiled up at him with incomplete smiles.

“You’ll forgive them, right?”

“For us you’ll be kind, right?”

He was tired of seeing that image again. The one where the only lights in his world were doused by the same people that bred hatred with every generation. It didn’t matter that the hunter was strong, that the hunter planned to leave. Iguro needed to keep them by his side, away from the darkness that had always engulfed his life. 

“I refuse to let them have you.”

To block out the new sun he needed the warmth of. It didn’t matter that the sun may burn or their anger would be his–they’d be safe. That was all that mattered at this point.

“The rest don’t deserve to feel your warmth.”

__________________________________________________________

You didn’t expect such an adverse reaction. Your plan to finally leave the duo with a warning and spend your time changing the town was going to be shot. You wanted to spin whatever narrative you needed to, to fix the town for good. Give them a healthier outlook and some mock defense against other cryptids would do the trick. But iguro didn’t seem to like that. More seriously neither did Kaburamru, hissing at you as he curled into himself.

“Look Iguro if you’d prefer you can come with me! Leave this town behind and find a place worthy of you both!”

“Not before I end it. They’d never let me have you if they can help it!”

He instructed Kaburamaru to slam his tail near you making you dodge further away from the exit. Already sensing where he was going with this, you stood your ground.

“Iguro. Stop this.”

Kaburamaru was curling around itself blocking the entirety of the single exit, with Iguro standing on his head. He was wielding his spear pointing it at you with a twisted smile. 

“I know we’re no match for you on our own. But you’re so eager to protect those rotten meatbags even you’d have trouble fending me off.”

“Iguro!”

He seemed to laugh to himself as he ducked down low, sliding on the snake’s back as the reptile slid through the exit en route to the town.

“By the time you arrive (Y/n) you’ll find we’ll be on the same level or they’ll all be dead. Either way I can’t wait to see how brightly you’ll burn!”

You immediately followed their trail falling behind; you were amazed at the speed they made darting through the forest. He planned to defeat you, by taking advantage of your divided attention. Running with nothing but the forest around you, you had to applaud him. 

“I’ve got to give it to him he’s greedier than any cryptids I’ve met. The world’s definitely going to learn about him if they survive him first.”

[jaidens]

so if it'd make you stay i wouldn't act so angry all the time

pairing [s] : dean winchester x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : stitching, knives, cuts + blood | kissing

a/n [s] : requests r open!

The hunt had gone wrong. What was supposed to be an easy, short hunt turned into a violent rage of angry werewolves on the hunt for people. You had managed to get away with a few cuts and bruises, the same was done for Sam, but Dean got the bad part of the fight in an attempt to protect you two.

He sits on the full bed, holding a towel over the cut that bleeds from his shoulder. You're patching up some small cuts with bandages and gauze and tape. Sam was gathering his stuff in the other part of the room to get ready for the early leave tomorrow.

You gather the first-aid supplies and tools and carry them over to where Dean sits. “Hey,” You say as you pull up a chair next to him and put on a pair of gloves. “How are you doing? How's that shoulder treating you?” You ask him.

“Just peachy.” Dean responds sarcastically, giving you a small smirk.

You roll your eyes at him and pull the towel off of the cut and try not to stare at the blood that pools around the cut and that's on the towel. You toss it to the side, and pour antiseptic onto the gauze pad, and warn Dean. “This is gonna sting.” He nods and hisses, his knuckles going white against his jeans. You frown and press it as soft as you can against the cut.

You wipe softly to get the dried blood away, and take out your stitching supplies. You begin the first stitches and Dean has his eyes closed, eyelashes against his cheek, and he lets out breaths to distract himself from the pain. It was something he had always done, in the way to cover up how he felt after John told him it was completely childish and stupid to show people how you truly felt.

You finish with the tie of the thread, a cut, and start packing away the supplies. You grab your bag, the first-aid kit, and a set of files. You thank Dean and Sam for letting you join on the hunt, and they respond in their favors. Once you walk out of the motel door: you take a long, deep breath and shut your eyes.

You and Dean were a very bundle of confusion. You were never with him long enough to have a connection without eruption. You were in love with the green-eyed man; that was obvious, and he was in love with you. You had some moments in Baby where you and Dean had some long, significant touches that burned on your skin. The picture of him shirtless, eyes shut, and laying against you was permanently engraved on the back of your eyelid.

You walk into your motel room, shutting the door, and immediately walking to your bed and falling on it. You place your hand over your face and close your eyes. You turn on the television and let it go to the first movie channel it could. You let it play in the background while you read through another file for a new case that you found.

The sound of knocks fills your ears. Not hard, but not soft at the same time. You set the file down on the green bedsheets and go to the door and answer it. Dean is there in his pajamas, a Kansas sweatshirt and plaid pants, with a small smile on his face. “What are you doing here? You should be sleeping.” You open the door further and he walks in to your room.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I don't do it often, but you did a lot for me.” Dean admits as he jumps on the balls of his feet. You sit down on your bed and Dean follows and sits next to you. “It meant a lot to me.” He says.

Dean stares into your eyes, his hand snaking onto yours where it sits on your thigh. You're trying to cover your embarrassment as his eyes flicker to your lips occasionally. “Well— well It's my job to make sure my friends are safe.” You respond to his compliments. Within a second, Dean’s hand goes to your face and smashes his lips against yours. With a slide and a push, you're against the bed and Dean’s hands are on you.

You pull away from him and attempt to catch your breath. “Get hurt more, yeah?” Dean laughs and kisses you once again. You laugh again and he places one of his arms around your shoulders.

Whatever you and Dean were, you were hoping it would stay like this. With hugs, kisses, and longing touches.