#he didn't know he was going to get his right hand woman out of it

[lyrenminth]

The best example

Fluff. Comforting Joe.

What you most feared was a reality, and you didn't know what to feel precisely.

You were numb, but something in the back of your mind was bothering you and if you closed your eyes, you could tell.

You weren't good enough.

You tried your best and failed in the process and now you couldn't stop overthinking every single thing you did in the past six months. What went wrong? Why it wasn't enough? Did you spent more time doing other things? Or you didn't have the same capacities as before?

You opened the chat with Joe, and read again the message he sent you in the morning.

"You're gonna get it, don't worry baby. I'm super proud"

You eyes started to fill with tears, and you couldn't read the message anymore. You let out a sob and sat on the couch, with your head between your hands, feeling the waves of pain and disappointment for yourself.

Why you weren't enough? What were going to do now? You thought about all the sleepless night that you spent studying, the games you missed and the events you skipped, and for what? The letter you received in the morning was simple and professional. Since you read the first words your stomach churned.

"We are sorry to inform you that..."

You weren't good enough. You weren't good enough and it hurt like hell.

You didn't want to call Joe or anyone. Instead you turn off your phone and stared at the wall until you eyelids were heavy.

"Love" you felt something brushing your cheeks. "Wake up"

You stirred awake, gentle blue eyes keep staring at you with curiosity and worry. The face of your husband was close to you, and for a moment you didn't thought about anything.

"Did you turn off your phone?" he asked, softly.

He knew. Oh, God he knew. Then, the rejection came back in full force, your chin quivered and you tried to hold back the tears.

"Joe" you whispered "I didn't..." you shook your head, insecure about what to say.

"Ssh, baby it's okay" he said, sitting down and pulling you across his lap, as if you were a child. His strong arms held your back, hugging you. "It's okay" he kissed your forehead and it was unusual for him to be this soft, but you needed it.

You cried, ugly crying. Nose dripping and sobbing uncontrollably type of crying. It made you feel ridiculous, but you couldn't stop.

"I really really want it, Joe" you spoke, "I try so hard and f-fell sh-short" you sobbed, hiding your face of the curve of his neck.

"I know, baby" his lips brushing your forehead once again. "It fucking sucks" you explained, the hiccup starting.

"I'm here, it's okay" he reassures once again. You soothe under his touch, suddenly aware where his hands were, over your thigh, gently rubbing, the other on your back making circles. Slowly, you breathing even out and you could feel the tension leaving your body. Joe's warm chest help you with that too. "You're the most intelligent woman I know, don't let a bad moment erase all you have done" he said.

"How do you do it?" you asked, your voice raspy and weak.

"What?"

"You're are a professional athlete, you try hard and sometimes you lose, I know you and I know that you dislike losing and makes you angry, but what do you think?" Joe fell silent for a few minutes, considering his answer. His voice more personal when he spoke again.

"You have the right to feel like shit" he replied his lips brushing your skin as he spoke. "But shouldn't be forever. Your life shouldn't be defined for a mistake or a fail, not if you didn't hurt anyone" he clarified. "I think that I will have the chances to make it right even if the first time didn't work as I wanted. I think about the things I can improve so next time it's less hard. My mistakes don't define every outcome of my life but sure help me to change the results"

You thought about it. Joe was always under pressure because of his profession, and he handled everything beautifully most of the times. You have seen his lows and highs, so you had a great example to follow.

"Thank you, Joe" you said, and gave him a peck.

"You're going to be fine, not now but soon" he told you, and you nodded. You believed it too.

There, in is his arms everything seemed easier.

[studiogrimm810]

Awakening Flames

pairings/characters: (pining) sam winchester x gn!you

summary: the smoke, the fire... it brings back memories of jess and awakens feelings in sam that you didn't even think he had for you to begin with

warnings: house fire, smoke inhalation, mentions of blood, metions of ptsd

word count: 3,619

A/N: goddamn, that picture of sam breaks my fucking heart

��——————

Sam has always been protective, gentle, and admittedly a little clingy when it came to you, but you knew that with such a troubled past, it made sense. And it never created any real problems. Sure, he can be a little overbearing during hunts or a little obsessive when it comes to you being alone with even a whiff of danger in the air, but you just know it’s because he cares about you. And you also know that deep down, you can be the same way.

Although, in all of your years of hunting together you have never seen him panic like he had tonight. You have absolutely no clue what wire snapped in Sam’s mind that made him act like this. The two of you have been on plenty of hunts, fought dozens of different creatures and even had your fair share of close calls. It didn’t make sense why he was freaking out now.

It was routine, classic even. For the past week or so, you and Sam had been tracking a couple of demons wreaking havoc on towns along a stretch of highway in southern Illinois and you had finally cornered them hiding out in an abandoned apartment complex.

It was a tough fight at first but eventually the demons dropped like flies and it was left to one last poor possessed woman. You were close, so you tackled her, wrestling her to the floor and swinging your angel blade wildly in an attempt to slice any exposed skin.

But once Sam made it back into the living room with you and the last demon, it had already been done.

The demon had flipped you over, straddling you. She knocked the blade out of your hand and dashed out of the open doorway closer to the two of you, knocking over a bottle of whiskey in the process. The crash of the bottle mixed with an even sharper shatter of glass in the other room due to the demon's quick escape. The bottle, of course, landed right next to the lit fireplace and flames quickly crawled past the iron platter that the logs rested on. It spat out harsh heat that quickly climbed the rotted curtains next to the fireplace.

It all happened so fast, and now half of the room was swallowed in red and orange flames by the time you can get to your feet. The smoke clouds the room and you can hear Sam calling for you. You spin to find him on the other side of the room at the other doorway that opens into the hallway that leads out of the apartment. Outside. Where you need to be right the fuck now.

You cough and crouch down to try and escape some of the smoke. Sam calls your name again, “stay low! Hold on, I-I’ll get to you, just-,” he flicks back and forth, looking for anything to help him.

“Sam, go! I’ll find my way out,” you cough, turning to find out where the demon escaped from.

“No! No, don’t-,” Sam begs, his voice cracking in the process. You turn back to look at him and can see beautiful drips of flames falling up towards the ceiling, illuminating his face. He looks terrified. Because, what you don’t know, is what he sees is your face exactly like you see his. Exactly like Jess.

All you knew about Jess was that she was Sam’s college girlfriend who died at the hands of Azazel.

The smoke fills Sam’s nostrils and the heat pushes him mentally back onto the plush cushion of his once shared bed. His mind rings with ‘please’s’ and ‘no, not again’s’. He’s completely panicked and irrational and he doesn’t know how to save you.

He never knows how to save them.

Jess.

Madison.

You.

And you don’t know what’s even going on in his mind enough to level with him, because from here he still just looks rabid with fear.

“Sam, you have to trust me,” you cough, trying to ignore the burn in your lungs. You take a few steps back to see that your only doorway leads to a kitchen with a broken window and, if you’re lucky enough, a fire escape. “Go downstairs and around back, I’ll have to jump,” another series of nasty coughs falling past your lips seems to snap him out of his funk just enough to listen.

“I’ll be there,” he nods, his feet moving before his mind catches up with him and he has to tear away his eyes from yours.

Now you can just focus on getting out of here. The smoke has started to make you dizzy but you promised Sam. The kitchen was a mossy mess, a little slippery but enough organic matter to really kick this fire up a notch. You have to hurry. You make it to the window, ignoring the left over shards of glass stuck in the pane because the fire is only getting hungrier.

It’s a two story drop below but with no ladder or help to get down because apparently, luck is rarely on your side. Sam rounds the corner as soon as you fully access your severely fucked situation. He knows it too.

But you promised.

You have to jump, it’s all that’s left. Sam stands right under the window, his arms raised and his eyes still irrational, “I’ll catch you,” he nods, encouraging you to evacuate. The fire has claimed the first half of the kitchen already and your silhouette is lit up like a halo by the orange flames. Sam’s heart is racing in his chest, making each second feel like an eternity.

“Sam-,” you start to argue but he barks back.

“No! Just jump, now!” He demands, using a voice he’s never used on you before and honestly it makes your stomach flip at the authority. You let your brain just turn off so you can listen to his instructions thoughtlessly. You climb over the pane, holding onto the splintery wood and trying to avoid any loose shards of glass.

“Fuck,” you whisper after positioning yourself just right. You let go, your organs delayed with your body causing the worst roller coaster feeling to bubble about your stomach. You land into Sam, tumbling you both to the soft grass beneath you with a forced grunt. His hands quickly wrap around your form the second you hit into his chest and he makes a point to take the full impact of the fall. He swallows the grunt that threatens to erupt into a low whine of pain.

You quickly roll off over top of him to allow him to take full breaths because you heard the air get knocked out of him but his grip doesn’t leave your waist even with half of your body off of him. You still manage to sit up, having a coughing fit trying to catch your lungs up with your racing heart.

Sam sits up, a bit dazed but the adrenaline of almost losing you like that powered him like a sedan engine full of diesel, it was enough to damage him as he forced himself to keep pushing his limits.

“Are you okay?” His hands reach out, cupping your face to make you look at him. You try to resist the grip so that you don’t cough in his face but he doesn’t seem to care about that. As you now get a good look at his face you see a glossy well of tears about to spill from his eyes and your heart melts with aching empathy.

“I-I’m fine,” your voice is rough and aching, but you force out the words in hopes to bring him down just a bit. He looks you over, pushing hair out of your face and checking any exposed skin for burn marks.

“Your hands,” he breathes out, holding your palms up so he can inspect them closer. As you look down at them, only then does the stinging pain register. When you lept from the window, apparently you weren’t as careful with the pane as you thought. Both palms are scratched up and bleeding, speckled with a few loose pieces of glass or wood. He doesn’t have the supplies on him now to help, just now remembering the duffle he brought along for the hunt is gone, swallowed by the burning lake inside.

He looks at the window that you jumped out of and then back down at you, pushing out a shaken breath, “okay, I need to get you out of here, back to the motel and I can get you cleaned up.” He nods, his gaze fixed on your palms again. Before you have time to respond, he’s standing and pulling you up with him, keeping a firm hold on your waist as he leads you back to the Impala. He helps you get settled in the passenger seat and hurries to the other side, keeping an eye out for any trouble.

“Sam,” you start as he climbs into the driver's side and ignites the engine.

“Are you sure you didn’t get burnt? That was a bad fall. Your clothes are singed, you need fresh clothes,” he rattles off, speeding back into the direction of the motel.

“Sam!” You try again, louder this time and it causes a fresh line of sickening coughs. You hunch over in your lap, holding your chest and trying to settle your breathing but the thick smoke that invaded your nose has stuck along your throat and trickled into your lungs. It burns.

“Hey, hey-, you with me?” He asks, torn between pulling over or continuing his race to get you as far away from the growing cloud of smoke. You only continue coughing in response and he jerks the car to the side of the road so that he can give you his full attention. He just can’t help himself.

He puts the car in park and jumps out, rounding the vehicle to open your own door so you can get some fresh air that he hopes to god will help. The strangled coughs interrupted by the weak wheezing of each breath you took constricted his chest, almost replicating a singe in his own lungs. Almost.

“Okay, just let it out, focus on your breathing, you’ll be okay,” he helps you turn your body so your legs are out of the Impala and he pushes back some more of your hair. After a few more deep coughs that rattle your throat, you're able to take fuller breaths that are noticeably satisfying now. “Better?” He asks, his hand on your thigh, closer than he would usually get but you can’t seem to mind.

You just nod, not wanting to risk speaking again and letting it be followed by a string of more nasty coughs that edge Sam closer and closer to an early grave. You still can’t put together why he got so freaked.

“Good, now I really want to get you back to the motel so I can clean up those hands,” he looks back down at your blood-slick palms. You just nod again.

After getting back on the road, and going just 10 over the speed limit this time, Sam called in the fire to local authorities and slid his phone back in his pocket. By now, it wasn’t too far from the motel and you could already see the neon lights.

Sam slows down to make a safe, but still a bit jerky, turn into the motel parking lot and puts her in park. You’d reckon Dean would be at Sam’s throat for how he’s treating his baby. Or maybe Dean would be better than you and actually put two and two together as to why he’s so damn jumpy.

Sam ushers you towards the room you booked a few hours ago and leads you to the bed, resting you gently on the edge.

“I’ll be right back,” Sam’s eyes take in any detail of your face that he can in a desperate attempt to settle his nerves a bit, but he just cannot seem to calm down. With a weighted breath, he stands and goes back out to the Impala to get the necessities for post-hunt clean up.

You just try to catch up with the past 20 minutes of your life.

But before you can, Sam is already pulling up a chair to sit across from you as he gently takes one of your hands to examine again.

“None of the cuts are too deep, won’t even need stitches,” a quick smile perks his lips as he lets out a puff of air that you're convinced still contained some smoke from that fire from how tense he’s been. You watch him as his pinched brows frame such worry struck eyes. You can’t emphasize enough just how weird this is. “Should probably run them under water,” he looks up at you before helping you over to the bathroom sink to do so.

You don’t need more help walking but, Jesus, you don’t have the heart to push him away.

He makes extra sure that the water is at an okay temperature before introducing it to your palms. And you still hiss when the water meets them, no matter it being too cool or too hot, it still stung like a bitch and made you instinctively lean away from the faucet. Sam brings over a hand towel to wet before using it to wash away any blood from the uninjured surfaces of your hands, cleaning up all that he can so as to reduce your discomfort.

It’s quiet once he gets to work on removing the splinters and shards of glass, his hands steady as ever and his focus honed in on your palms. Nothing more. Nothing less.

He also gave you a glass of water to help with the dry burn in your throat, even making sure there was a straw so you wouldn’t have to pick up the glass. So thoughtful. You waited for your breathing to be easy enough for you to trust your speech before finally asking the question that itched the tip of your tongue.

“Sam?” You start, your voice still raspy and it aches as it rubs out of your vocal chords, but you push through. His head pops up and looks over your features to try and gauge what was wrong now because why else would you try to talk? His mind is still in panic-mode and he subconsciously readies solutions for worst case scenarios. “What happened back there?” You follow up before he can rush out another prod to how you’re doing or if something’s wrong.

His jaw clenches and he swallows whatever invisible mouthful he had and his eyes gloss over- not with tears this time but a momentary lack of focus. Like he’s thinking back to something. He looks back down at the hand which still has some shards in it but the tweezers don’t move. You would almost expect the gears turning in his head were about to supply you a fresh round of smoke to choke on, but then he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Okay, that you weren’t expecting. Sure, maybe it felt like he was blowing it a tiny bit out of proportion, but it was still a life or death scenario, and his reaction was obviously triggered by something that he shouldn’t feel ashamed of. Your first thought was maybe it reminded him of his time in Hell. With Lucifer. The thought makes a tickle of bile rise up in your throat that starts to sting the already sore tissue.

“I just freaked.”

Under any other circumstance you would have laughed at his understatement. But the pain in his still unfocused, far away look stops the urge before you realize it was there in the first place.

“The fire?” It was the only thing you could think of, the only thing that was different from a usual hunt. He nods, eyes still unfocused. It really gave you nothing to go off of. You already figured it was the fire and you just wanted to know why.

He’s working his jaw, mulling over how exactly he wants to word this- if he even wants you to hear it in the first place. His shoulders slump and he sets aside the tweezers, running a hand down his face. The hand almost works like a magic trick- revealing the caught up toll that this night has taken on his mental state with one swift swipe.

“Jess,” he offers the name, just testing if his voice can keep from breaking. It doesn’t, but he keeps going anyway because he knows that he scared you and it makes him feel sick. Almost as sick as seeing fire frame your body like a mane. Almost as sick as the images of Jess that assaulted his closed lids when he tried to steady himself. Almost, but not quite, so he decides not to apologize again. “Dean ever tell you how our mom died?” Sam asks, not looking up to face you just yet.

Fuck. Of course.

“Oh,” you breathe out, remembering Dean mentioning that a demon set their childhood home ablaze, taking their mothers life with the fall.

“Jess died the same way. Azazel,” Sam continues, choosing his words carefully and selecting them out with proper timing so he doesn’t break too soon. “He pinned her to the ceiling-.”

What?

“And burned her alive above me.”

The fuck?

“Just like he did to our mom.”

Okay, those details were left out of Dean’s story altogether but you can’t really blame him for skipping them.

You’re speechless, unable to remember any words that you spent the last 30 some-odd years using. Of course he freaked out.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” and you are. Truly. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose a partner like that. You’ve lost people but never like that. Never so… just out of your reach.

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you like that too.”

That makes sense.

“I lost Jess, Madison, and I just couldn’t-,” he voice breaks and his head dips down as the words die just before his lips.

Wait, what? You really want this man to stop throwing curve balls and let you catch up to literally anything. But his words get you thinking. He was triggered by the flames, reminded of Jess’ death, but not just that, it was a fear of losing you. Comparing you to Jess and whoever this Madison was. What was he implying?

He sniffled before bringing his head back up, not looking at you just yet but you can tell that he’s trying to work up the nerve again. He hasn’t even realized his slip up, his choice of words that reveal deeper feelings that are buried under the fear that comes with this life and the effects it has on those you allow yourself to love.

“I just-, I thought I was going to lose you like I lost them and I freaked and I didn’t mean to scare you,” he finally gets his eyes back up at yours, reddened and wet. He doesn’t apologize again like you thought he would and you’re thankful that he doesn’t feel ashamed enough to do it a second time.

“I get it,” you assure, holding his gaze with the swirling subconscious thought of his choice of wording just a few paces ago. Thoughts that get slammed to the front line of your thinking as his eyes dart down to your lips- not scanning for signs of discomfort, but just to your lips.

“You didn’t scare me,” you shake your head, watching him as he watches you. Locked in this tunnel vision hooked between the two of you, growing shorter and shorter without either of you realizing it.

“I just need you to be okay.” He whimpers the words like a prayer. Like you’re the only being who can grant him his wish if he’s needy enough. If he begs enough. 

“I’m okay, Sam,” you only need to whisper now, the heat of your words hitting his lips that are so close you could practically taste him. He swallows, holding just your eyes now, his own not dipping down to your lips or your hair or your neck. Even if the last one would rile you up enough to make a move.

“Okay,” he whispers back, still a raw echo of words that tug on your heart. You want to ask him why- why he chose that specific wording, why he panicked in such a way that exposed himself, why the tension between you couldn’t back hacked with a fucking butcher knife. But you don’t. You don’t say a word as he goes back to plucking the foreign objects from your palm. As much as you want to be reckless and spontaneous and just take what you want to be yours- you don’t.

You don’t because the look that stains his face is one of utter exhaustion- mental and physical. This night has wrecked him more than you know him to outwardly admit to anytime soon.

You don’t because this isn’t how he would want it, and you fear he will take it as an act of thankfulness or obligation on your part.

You don’t because the man in front of you deserves better. He deserves the memory of the two of you to not be a tainted bond of his PTSD but of a memorable connection built from the years of friendship and love he’s already given you.

He deserves your best, and you’re prepared to offer him just that when he’s ready.

———————

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>pictures are not my own, i have the originals linked here (pinterest) >>check out my other works here

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part nine//t.c.

Warnings: cursing, beginnings of smut

The Golden Globe Awards ceremony was rather uneventful for you. You hadn’t seen any of the other films nominated, the food was good, but nothing spectacular, and it was difficult to get anything to drink that wasn’t alcohol.

You spent some time on your phone. Photos of Kylie kissing Timmy were everywhere on social media. It did hurt your heart to see her cupping his face, pulling him into a kiss. "Don't worry about her." Timothee had said. You did your best to pay it no mind.

You didn't really know anyone at your table. It was a bunch of other assistants and crew members. You weren't much of a social butterfly, so you mostly just kept to yourself. After all, you came for one reason: Timothée, your boss. Was he also your lover now? Well, maybe not officially. Yet.

At the end of the event, everyone just kind of piled out like they were leaving a high school dance. It was awkward and oddly paced walking toward the exit.

You met up with Timmy eventually and his almost sullen looking face lit up when he saw you. He gave you a small wave and smile. His other hand was occupied by Kylie Jenner. He was leading her out by the hand. You couldn’t tell if their fingers were interlocked or not.

Kylie saw you, gave you a really blank sort of stare. You tried to smile politely at her, feeling strange yourself, you mouthed a ‘hi’ to her, since it was quite loud with people talking in all directions. She didn’t respond to you at all, it felt like she was looking straight through you, so coldly.

She wasn’t more than a half a pace behind him as she tried to keep up with his long strides. You could understand her desperation, as Timmy always covered a lot of ground quickly, though right now he seemed to be moving even faster than normal.

You stayed behind a few feet to give him and Kylie space as people were still taking photos and recording them. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.

…….

Once outside, you looked on as Timmy walked her to her car that was waiting in the back where there were no paps. There wasn’t an exchange between them. He had dropped her hand once out of view of the cameras. She got into the back seat of the car without even looking back at him.

You waited until her car left and Timmy was walking away. You walked towards him, saw that he had his phone in hand. You were approaching him as he looked up and smiled at you. "Hey, I was about to text you."

"No need to now." you smiled back. “So where are your guy friends? Seems like they always accompany you everywhere."

"Yeah, I told them to just hang back. That I'd just be going home solo. Let's get out of here."

You walked together to find Timmy's car and driver and there were some fans on the street, so naturally, he had to stop.

You stood off to the side, waiting patiently and not wanting to ruin any of the young ladies' time meeting him. There were more little handmade bracelets, and one woman gave him a rose quartz crystal. They were so sweet to him and you loved that he matched their energy right back.

Once back in the car, he leaned on your shoulder almost immediately, letting out a sharp breath of exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" you asked him.

"Yeah." he sat up straight, looking at you, still touching his leg to yours, "I am now."

Taking the initiative for the first time, you leaned in and kiss his lips. You didn’t even care that they had been touched by another. It didn’t matter to you.

Timmy had brought his hand up to your face while you kissed, and when your lips parted, he spoke, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, I hope it’s nothing bad.” you giggled. His face was barely an inch away from yours as he held your cheek.

“I want to make love to you tonight.” he stated.

You weren’t surprised, but it was still sweet to hear him say it, “Oh, Timothée Chalamet. You always seem to know what a girl wants to hear.” you grinned.

“I only care about my girl.” he declared, pulling you into a deeper kiss, one of hunger and passion. Your bodies became sinfully close in the back seat of the SUV. Your hands roamed over his shoulders as he held your waist.

..........

It was a rush to get inside his house. Once the front door was closed, you were attached to each other. Your lips were unable to leave each other, his tongue wandered eagerly into your mouth. You moved through the kitchen together, with you running your hands through his fluffy hair and him feeling your breasts through your dress.

"Hm, eager are we, Chalamet?" you joked, cheekily.

He smirked as he held you tightly, "Fuck yeah I am." He resumed kissing you that instant.

You moaned in his mouth, loving the feeling of his hands on your body, squeezing your boobs, kneading your hips, then cupping your ass.

Without any warning, his fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress and he dragged it down with haste.

"Oh my gosh, you're trying to get me naked in your kitchen!" you exclaimed.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" he joked, sliding your dress down your body.

You were left in your lingerie, but you did not take the time to feel nervous or insecure about your body or the way he would perceive you. You wanted this. You both did. And you knew that Timmy cared about you a lot. So, he would never judge your body. You knew it wasn't anywhere close to the perfection that Kylie had. But maybe he would like that about you.

Timmy let out a a breath, shaking his head once as he looked down your body, then back up into your eyes. “Jesus Christ. You,” he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between his arms, “are,” he pecked your left cheek, “amazing.” He kissed you on the right cheek.

Your face was warm and your chest heaved slowly in anticipation. When he captured your lips once more, you tugged on his Tom Ford jacket.

He followed suit, quickly whisking the jacket off and tossing it into one of the island chairs.

You threw his blue tie off of him without a care, then unbuttoned his shirt in what must have been record time.

Timmy made out with you as he hurriedly unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the floor. "mm," he backed away from your lips just barely, "do you know how much I've wanted you, right here?"

"Here?" you placed your hand on the counter, teasing, "Really?"

"Yes, y/n, you have to know that I've wanted you ever since the first day I met you. You were so nervous, but you were so fucking cute."

"You thought I was cute?" you egged him on, though the information was new to you.

He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, smashing his lips onto the tender spot there. "Yes, baby." he whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

Your hands clapped onto his back. His beautiful, bare back that you had only seen a few times, but each time you had wanted so badly to grab him, to scratch your nails down that back. Now, you could.

January 30, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive @timhalchala @heatherpi

[sweatyracoon]

What’s Your Secret?

Synopsis:

You were the fair and saw a fortune telling booth. You didn't expect the teller to be so handsome.

Warnings:

Fluff, comedy, fortune telling, language, DRABBLE

You didn't expect to go home with a man tonight. Especially not one as fine as this.

You found him on the fair grounds in his cousins booth. A fortune Telling booth, more specifically.

You had arrived at the fair alone, being stood up by your friends yet again. You were starting to think you should find other people to hang out with.

The booth itself was underneath a tent, one that would remind you of a circus if it weren't covered in fairy lights.

You gently pulled back the lip of the tent, and was surprised to see how well lit it was in here.

It was mostly candles, but compared to the night sky outside, it was a gorgeous contrast.

Insensce burned, the smell of lavender and citrus surrounding you as you made your way to an empty table.

It was covered it a glittery purple cloth, smooth to the touch. It almost sounded like a cliche. Tarot cards and gemstones lined the table in a methodical placement.

You sat down on the worn cushion.

"So, what can we do you for today?"

The voice was obviously not a woman's, which is what you were expecting. When you heard the fabric fall back onto the ground, you saw the figure circle around the table to sit in front of you.

And my god.

He was total eye candy.

He was about your age, and had brown hair with honey skin. His eyes the same as a piece of boba.

"I'm sorry?" You said stupidly, forgetting what this tent was.

He smiled.

"You want your fortune told? You came to the right place...I think? I don't know, my aunt's on break and told me to take over for a few," He grinned, playing with the stones on the table.

You smiled at his honesty.

"So you can read my fortune, or not?" You tease, tilting your head.

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I may not be a pro, but I could tell a pretty girl like you shouldn't be here alone without her partner. Not at night,"

Your gaze softened, making his own falter.

"I don't have a partner. No friends either. That's why I'm here. I want to see if it'll always be that way," your shrugged your shoulders, watching his fingers flip through the tarot cards after your done.

"Well, I'll give you a free reading," he spoke, sticking out his tongue. It almost looked like he was looking for a specific card.

You waited patiently, watching his face shift from focus to excitement.

"Okay! Now, pick a card!" You went to do as he said, but found that there was only one card in front of you.

You glanced up to see his cheeks flushed, a hopeful look on his face.

"Okay,"

You grabbed it, and he motioned for you to flip it over.

Lovers

Your eyes widen, and your breath seems to get caught in your lungs.

You look back to him.

"I take it back. I'm a total pro," He laughs, putting the card back onto the pile.

"Whats your name?" You ask.

"Han," At this point, he stood and walked over to you, holding out his palm for you to grab.

"And you are?"

"Y/n," you answer, grabbing his hand.

He pulled you up, asking, "Wanna go get a donut burger and then ride the ferris wheel?" He grinned.

"Yes!"

You both giggle, rushing out of the tent passed the people in line for the service he was no longer providing.

Tonight was going to be the best night you had in a while.

[macsimagines]

YANDERE!SHINICHIRO SANO ONE NIGHT STAND

ok so here it is. I hope it's ok I'm kinda iffy about it let me know what you all think!! this is worst timeline btw!!!

MINORS DNIWARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ONE NIGHT STAND, SPANKING AND DRINKING

You had no idea what you were even doing with your life. Late at night, in a run down jazz bar, you found yourself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail all by yourself.

The piano on stage skillfully played a tune that was just pleasant enough for you to feel yourself to start to ease slightly. Maybe the drinks and bar itself weren't anything special, but at least there was music.

"Tastes like shit," a somber voice says to your side. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet a dark pair. Two onyx eyes that seemed to only reflect abyss.

Maybe on a different day you would have just ignored him, but tonight? You were feeling brave.

"What's wrong with it?" you inquire, suddenly finding the stranger fascinating. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark soul. You think you may have a type.

His eyes barely lift from his glass, a dark liquid swirling with his ice, "It's bitter." He answer plainly. Maybe his monotone response should make you reconsider trying to spark a connection...but something about his voice...

"It's... bourbon, right? You should've gotten a cocktail if you wanted something sweeter," you purr, pushing your own glass toward him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Finally, his eyes fully meet yours and something in the way that they analyze you has a shiver running across your skin. He's handsome, pretty even, and you find yourself feeling just a little hot under his intense stare.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. There's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he's sliding his hand, purposefully brushing your fingertips, and taking the glass from you. Your eyes never break contact as he brings the glass to his lips, his tongue licking at the sugar coated rim first.

You can feel your thighs clench at the erotic image this stranger makes. Something inside of you aching with a sudden need. "Well?" you say, scooting in closer, "Better?"

"Dunno," the man says leaning in closer, "I'm in the mood for somethin' much sweeter." You feel a rough hand come up and firmly squeeze your thigh.

Maybe its the alcohol, the atmosphere, or those gorgeous void like eyes of his, but you find yourself checking into a hotel with that stranger. Yes. Stranger.

His name doesn't matter, what he does for a living or why he's in this part of town. The only thing that matters is how good his hands feel around your throat and inside your aching pussy.

You don't care about all his tattoos or the fact that their was a danger slowly growing in those perfect eyes of his. A strange sort of obsession?

Tonight, you don't fight. When his hand cracks down hard against your ass, you moan and beg for more. When he makes you kiss him and devours every sound you try to make. And not even when he's plunging deep into you and pounding like a man going for broke.

As you start to see stars and get light headed, you allow this man, a man whose name you didn't even care to know, to have his sick and depraved way with you.

"Be my good-girl," he purrs a rough hand coming to wrap around your neck, "Stick out your tongue for me." You end up mindlessly doing as he says, so eager to please. And your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick girth when he meets it with his own.

Shamefully, you're just moaning when you fill him cum inside you, loving the feeling. And finally the man stops his constant praise of 'Good girl, perfect woman, mine so fucking mine,' to look you in the eyes again.

There's something different about them. Almost child like and wide. There is the smallest light in them and through the haze of your orgasm you swear there was something else...

But you're so spent and exhausted that you end up passing out in his arms. You're sure it won't matter in the morning, either one of you will be gone. Right?

You're surprised to find him still sleeping soundly next to you. You can't believe your good luck when you find he was as beautiful as you had remembered him being. The pleasant soreness of your body also told you that the sex hadn't just been the greatest wet dream of your life.

Its a shame you have to go. You two might actually be compatible, but something like that just didn't work out for you. Maybe if things were different... No. You won't let yourself fall for some stranger.

You're trying to get yourself dressed and out the door as quietly as possible but something is grabbing your wrist and pulling you back-! Right into someone's solid chest.

"Quit makin' all th'racket," he slurs, nose rubbing into your neck, "Lay back down with me, baby."

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and his soft touches remind you of everything from the night before. Fuck you want to stay for another round- or 3 -but you really needed to leave. So you try to push back.

"S-Sorry for waking you. I'll be out in just a second. I'll leave my half of the bill-!"

"You're not fucking going anywhere, Y/N."

Ice quickly runs down your spine. You're very sure you didn't tell him your name. You were supposed to be nameless strangers after all.

You turn to glare at him seeing that he has his phone open. "I had a friend of mine do some diggin' on you after you passed out last night." He tells you calmly. Like he didn't just admit to doing a creepy back ground check on you.

"Let go of me." You demand fighting back harder, "I want to go home!"

This man only smirks from where he sits on the bed his eyes having gone back to being cold and dead. "You brought me back into the light, baby. I'm your home now."

[activesplooger]

HOOTERS | Adam x Reader | Hazbin Hotel

summary: hooters worker encounters a recently divorced Adam at work.

notes: this is so funny to me idk why America core fr. also if you don't know hooters is a restaurant in America where guys go and the woman wear like short shorts and low cut tops. usually, the woman who work there will pretend to be "into" the guys so they tip em better. ig its kind of a human au idk this is being written in like 30 minutes and also this is centered a lot on adams thoughts idk

cw: adam, harassment, hooters

Adam sat hunched over in his chair, hovering over his beer, his brow furrowed as he stares blankly in front of him. The divorce between him and Eve had just been finalized, and tonight, Abel and Caine were at her house, leaving Adam completely alone for the first time in over 30 years. "Why did I even come here?" he grumbled under his breath.

In his twenties, this place was forbidden paradise. He was married early on in his life, he didn't have time for Hooters— and no way would Eve let him ogle at skimpy waitresses while she was at home taking care of two kids. Something about it being "unfaithful". Ironic.

Now that he's finally here, it's not all he made it out to be. It just makes him miss his wife. Who cares if 20 girls have their ass and tits out? He wants his Eve back.

He huffs, ready to get his stuff and leave before seeing you stride up to the table with a big smile on your pretty face. "Hi!" you beam, puffing out your chest to make your breasts seem bigger, "Welcome to Hooters, I'm Y/N! I'll be taking care of you today. What can I get for you?".

Big doe eyes stare up at you in awe, his mouth agape yet unable to utter out any words. You chuckle softly and smile, this happened a lot here. 'Mid 40s, recently divorced,' you think to yourself, unknowingly clocking his situation to a tee. Should be an easy table! Middle aged divorcees were basically a pot of gold at this establishment.

"Sir?" you say softly. Adam blinks out of his tranced state and turns away, covering his mouth with his hand to cover his heavy blush, "Uh yeah sorry I don't usually go here so-". "No worries," you grab a menu and point to various meals, "our most popular things are our fries, hot wings, and nachos! My personal favorite are chipotle honey wings though!". Adam wasn't listening at all, he's too busy staring down your shirt to hear anything. He realizes you finished talking and snaps his head back up to look at you, "Oh uh- I'll just have... All of that, yeah.".

"You got it!" you grab the menu off the table, "I'll be right back with your food.". "Thank you," he says. "Aw you're so sweet!" you gently grab his arm, "you're welcome. I'll be back!". You walk off, leaving Adam a hot mess. He's frozen in place, eyes fixed on where you touched his arm.

You called him sweet AND touched him. That was the most affection Adam had gotten in months. Not to mention the face that your tits were totally out, begging for his attention. And fuck, the words "I'll be taking care of you today" sounded so sweet coming from those pretty little lips. Your curves, your ass that hung out of those skimpy orange shorts, the gentle sway of your hips as you walked... Your- Your- "Fuuuucckkk," Adam groaned quietly, feeling his pants grow tighter the longer he thought about you.

He quickly crossed his legs and stretched his oversized hoodie to cover the massive bulge stretching the fabric taut. His mind was a whirlwind of guilt and unwanted arousal. Just last year he had a family, a wife. And now look where he was, sitting in a hooters covering his raging boner because of that slutty fucking waitress.

You walk back to his table and set down the plates of food, "Here you are! Enjoy.". He says nothing in response, staring at the untouched plate of wings and fries you had brought him. "Everything alright?" you ask softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Adam jerks his shoulder at the touch, "I'm fucking fine!". "Oh, Jesus," he sighs, "I'm sorry I- I'm going through a rough time.".

Ah. You figure he must have recently gotten a divorce. You offer a gently smile toward him and remove your hand, "It's okay, I understand. I've been having a rough time too... Enjoy your food.". Adam stares at you as you walk away. This must be fate. The two of you meeting while your both going through a shitty time?! Fuck all that guilt, he didn't need that shit anymore. He needed you.

__ Adam had been coming in the past few weeks, requesting you each time as a server. Whenever you weren't available, he'd walk out in a huff and slam the door behind him.

Each time he ate here, you had greeted him with the same warm smile, taking his order with practiced efficiency, and making sure his glass was never empty. But there was no spark in your eye, no hint of the same longing that gnawed at Adam.

Tonight, after an argument with Eve, he was particularly upset and pretty drunk. Upset about Eve, his family, his life, you. You. His eyes narrowed in on you as you bounced from table to table with the same cheerful and very friendly attitude— the same attitude you had showed him. The one that made him feel special. "Fucking slut," he mutters under his breath. How could you?

You walk up to his table, "Hey, Adam! Hows the-". "Shitty!" he interrupts, his words slurred as he speaks. "The food was shitty?" you tilt your head, "I'm sorry.". "No! you!". "I'm shitty?" you raise an eyebrow, stepping back incase he "over steps" his boundaries.

"Yes! With your slutty little outfit and- fuck!". Adam reaches out and grabs your waist, trying to pull you back to him. "Hey!" A security guard intervenes and stands in between you two, "everything okay over here?". "I-Its fine, just get him a new server," you walk away and go tend to your other tables, begrudgingly feeling a bit guilty for the guy. He was just so pathetic.

Adam groans loudly, a loud whiney moan that turns the heads of other people in the establishment. A new server tends to him, he only asks for more beer. He stays there until its after closing and he's passed out.

"Should I call someone-?" the replacement server asks you. "No no," you sigh, "I'll deal with it. Go home.". She nods and heads out. You look at him and groan, "Oh my God...".

__

You had dragged him out of from the table and all the way to the parking lot. He was just hauled through the rough roads and he was still passed the fuck out. It took all the strength in you to move him, you hoped he would've woken up but somehow he didn't. After finally getting his giant body into the back seat, you tied him down with the seatbelts and made your way to your house. It was stupid, bringing this old guy that was obsessed with you into your own home. He just seemed too stupid to do any actual harm. You made sure to lock your bedroom door though while you were sleeping. __

Adam wakes up, his head throbbing as the memory from last night comes back to him. "Fuck," he rubs his eyes. Once he looks up, he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings. He wasn't home. He wasn't at Eve's either.

"Good morning," you greet him, grabbing your things as your about to leave for your morning shift. "Where- How did I get here?". "I took you here after you harassed me and passed out," you reveal, eliciting a groan from Adam. You open the door. Adam sits up and calls out to you, "Wait! Where are you going?". "Work." you state flatly.

"No no no," Adam gets up and makes strides till theres no space between you two, "no way in fucking hell I'm letting you leave now.". "I can't leave my own apartment?" you shoot back in a snarky home. "Don't be a brat. You wouldn't have brought me home if you weren't into me," He takes your hips into his large calloused hands, "so your either into me, or your really fucking dumb.".

"I guess I could call in sick to work," you bite your lip, contemplating on what you really wanted to do. Why did you bring him home? Fuck maybe you did want him.

"Good girl," he brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and tilts your chin up to face him, "why don'chu go make that call, sweetheart.".

__

uhh so i lost steam at the end if u wanna like take this idea and rewrite it go ahead sorry im not feeling well right now

[eridanidreams]

A little something I worked on today for my ongoing Starfield longfic stars through my fingers like grains of sand. I just posted a new chapter, and this is the beginning of the next.

***

Cait shivered as she stepped into the ready room; Devine hadn't spent too much money on insulation, and the howling wind outside sucked the heat right out. The Constellation suits didn't have the same kind of protection she'd built into the Mantis and Paladin suits—but the Constellation suits wouldn't give away their secret identities, either. Fortunately, there was a workbench; she could probably cobble something together to give them a little more oomph. "Bring your suit over here," she said, resolutely keeping her teeth from chattering. "I want to give them a once-over before we go out. Just to be on the safe side."

"Mei's people would have had access to the suit storage lockers," Sam observed, following her direction.

"Yeah," she agreed. "Wouldn't put it past them to get 'creative'."

He made a derisive snort at the idea. "Hey, hang on a sec." She turned to see him half-out of his jacket. "Put this on—you're cold enough you're about to make me start shivering." He gave a mock-shudder. "See?"

Cold as she was, she wasn't about to argue. As she slid into it, she was surrounded by the warmth of his body that still clung to it, as well as the faint scent that was, now and forever, lodged in her memory as Sam. "You'll tell me when you need it back," she said.

"Don't worry about me. You know I like the cold." He winked at her. "Warm all the way down, remember?" There was something about the satisfaction coming off him that went beyond just warming her up. "Gotta say, you wear that old thing almost as well as I do."

Cait thought about it for a moment as her practiced hands started the diagnostics going. "This is one of those guy things, isn't it?"

"What's a guy thing?" Sam sounded innocent as the long day, but his silent laughter fizzled against her skin.

"Me wearing your jacket?" she responded tartly.

"Ohhhh," he said, in tones of sudden—and feigned—understanding. "You mean the desire of a man in a romantic relationship to see the woman of his dreams wearing a piece of clothing recently removed from his body, so that the intimacy of touch is transferred via the garment?" She turned to look at him incredulously—he looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "That guy thing?"

"Something like that," she said slowly.

"Maaaaaybe…" His eyes crinkled, and his lips curved into a warm smile. "Not that I would admit to such a base urge." He took a step closer to her, his voice softening. "And I sure wouldn't want to distract you from being all knotted up with tension before we throw ourselves into danger, now would I?" Behind her, the diagnostic continued to run. "That would be just terrible." Cait managed to keep her suspicious face through most of his spiel, but the mock-gravitas he laid on the word 'terrible' broke her into a fit of giggles. "There we go." His voice dripped satisfaction. "Feeling better now?"

"Much," she sighed, as the diagnostic beeped. "You're a bad, bad man, Sam Coe, and one of these days I'm going to give you exactly what you deserve."

Sam chuckled and pulled her into an embrace. "Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'." The kiss they shared was slow and lazy, a promise rather than a demand. "Might just take you up on it."

She was laughing when she turned back to the workbench.

Gooooood Morning! It’s WIP Wednesday Thursday!

Just:

Reblog this post with a snippet of what you’re currently working on attached, and I’ll rb with comments/encouragement !

It doesn’t have to be Dragon Age, it can be whatever you’re working on!

Very chill, no pressure! Thanks for sharing, and have fun!

[my-debauchery]

Nothing.

idol!yuta × afab!reader

idol!yuta × afab!reader

g`fluff, smut

cw`dom!yuta, sub!reader, crossdressing, kissing, spitting, facefucking, cumeating(f&m), oral(f. & m.), mommy kink, slapping, unconsciousness (all is consensual), squirting, explicit content, unprotected sex, fingering

wc`3.2k

A/N:this was somewhat inspired by "Nothing On Me" by Kai. as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. if you see mistakes in cw tagging, please, let me know.

you were seating at the dressing table, trying to properly curl your hair for the evening ahead. getting hotter by the minute from the effort and the heat of the iron.

as you finished the last strand of hair and pinned it up to cool, you lift your eyes up and see yuta in the reflection staring at you 'can you please open the window? i want to cool down before doing my makeup' you smiled and turned to face him.

yuta silently moves towards your bed and places his bag on it. he fulfills your request and you relish in the icy air filling the room.

you thank him and turn back to the mirror. you hear yuta approaching you while you're rummaging in your makeup drawer. he places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him once again.

he gives you a unreadable look and kneels next to you. you start turning towards him, but he stops you. so you keep looking at each other though the mirror.

'would you mind doing my makeup too?' he asks you somewhat hesitantly 'sure' you say as you continue to look through your makeup collection again 'but i hope you understand that i never did male makeup, so it might look a bit strange. also i probably won't be able to do your skin, our shades don't match' you tease him.

'you didn't understand me' you hear 'huh?' you meet his eyes full of worries 'what do you mean then?' you inquire. he gets up and brings over his bag over to you.

he opens it up and takes stuff out places them onto the table 'i ordered this and hoped you would do my makeup how you do yours. female style, you know? i even got a foundation in my shade' he shows you a bottle of it and places it back on the table 'i also got a matching dress to yours for me to wear for our date'

'you want me to do your makeup like for a woman and to wear a dress for our date?' you ask carefully. your boyfriend just nods weakly.

yuta watches you get up and quickly go to the bathroom and the dread starts to sink in. he was terrified of what he presumes is happening right now. that you going to be horrified and want to leave him. that so far things were far too good to be true. that you were too accepting, easygoing and he crossed the line.

it was one thing to have kinks and introduce som/sub dynamics into the relationship, far easier to learn and adjust to. but completely other when your boyfriend wants to dress like a woman, who would want that?

yuta was trying to come up with something, anything to calm you down and convince you to not leave him. but after hearing some noise from the bathroom, he saw you waltz back into the bedroom with giddiness and a fluffy kuromi hairband in your hands.

'do you have a specific look in mind or do you want me to freestyle it? or as we going to have matching dresses, do you want to have matching makeup looks? to go all out?' you question while looking through the products he bought.

he grabs your hand 'you don't mind?' he asks and looks inquisitively at you. you look confused and he clarifies 'about me wearing feminine makeup and woman's clothes? that i want us to go out like that together, publicly?'

you giggle and answer 'no. i don't care in what form you come, yuta. your core doesn't change, even if you're a shapeless blob. i know that i love you and you love me, what else could possibly matter? as for the publicity aspect, i only worry that someone might recognize you, but i can try to make you unrecognizable. power of makeup and all that jazz, you know? also we go out at midnight on a walk, so we should be fine' you finish and hold his face gently.

he nods 'thank you. with you i truly feel like i'm alive for the first time' you lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the lips with a wide toothy grin 'now, do you want a full fantasy of a makeup shop experience?'

yuta laughs 'no. i've had plenty of that. i want a fantasy of my girlfriend doing my makeup. preferably while sitting on my lap' he sits down and pulls in to straddle him.

you snort and ask if he has any reference pictures for his look. he shows you different gothic style makeup looks and tells you to do what you think would look best. he relaxes and circles you waist with his arms. so you get to work.

once you're done you hold up a mirror so yuta can see himself 'do you like it? i must say, i think i've outdone myself. you look like a goth baddie'you get up to put away his stuff and a thought hits you 'oh my god! i'll do my makeup like an insta baddie and we can be 2 baddies, just no porsche' you laugh and look up a reference for yourself.

suddenly yuta hugs you from the back and whispers into the nape of your neck 'i love it, thank you' you smile 'go get changed and i'll do my makeup in the meantime, okay?' he nods and walks off.

you do your makeup and let down your curls. you brush them out and spray on your favorite perfume after changing into your own dress. you go to the leaving room in search of yuta, but once you see him, you are speechless.

he is wearing a satin midnight blue slip dress with strings that can shorten it on both sides, a fluffy black cardigan and a glossy black butterfly shaped hair clip on one side 'how do i look? it's not too much, right?' he asks and you shake your head like a dummy.

'you don't look like a baddie. you look like a mommy' you say almost in a trance. yuta looks at your glazed eyes and scoffs 'misbehave and i'll punish you like one' you feel a hot rush and blur out without thinking 'yes, mommy' yuta gives you a warning look and you try to calm yourself down.

you both get your shoes and coats on and head out of the apartment. while standing in the elevator yuta holds your hand and intertwines your fingers. he squeezes it slightly 'remember to behave. you are my good girl, right?' you nod enthusiastically and he kisses your cheek.

you spend next hour just walking around enjoying pretty snowfall and each other's company. but you can't really look at anything except your lovely boyfriend, fantasizing about him taking you in the dark alleyway while calling him mommy or letting him use your mouth.

but you know good things will come to those who wait and you could wait for eternity if it meant waiting for him. you are his good girl after all.

you're nearing your apartment complex and you feel a craving for something sweet, so you pull yuta towards a convince store 'do you want me to give you a face mask?' yuta thought for a moment and shakes his head. he gives you his card 'go get yourself a treat. i'll wait here' you take it and go inside.

you book it straight for your favorite and move to the front to pay 'what a lovely pair you two are' cashier, an old woman mentions, you look up at her in alarm 'what?'

she smiles 'your sister and you. sure your sister's style is a bit unconventional, but i mean she is still beautiful' you smile and relief washes over you, and when a naughty thought pops in 'it's my mommy' you smile even wider 'mommy?' cashier glances outside at yuta again, who now is watching you.

'doesn't she look grate? she still buys me sweet treats, even though i'm all grow up now' you say and swipe yuta's card 'does she? i guess you have a great mommy, don't you?' smile again 'i do. she is the best. have a good night' you step outside and meet yuta's suspicious gaze.

'what did you talk about? you looked worried for a moment? is everything alright?' he tries to look into your eyes, but you avoid his eyes and just munch on your sweet treat 'nothing' you say nonchalantly.

at least you think you said that nonchalantly, but to yuta you look pleased and there is a mischievous twinkle in your eyes once you turn to him. he knows you lying, but he'll let you have your treat for now.

once you approach the buildings entrance, yuta asks you again 'still i'm interested, what were you talking about with the cashier? hmm' he looks up ahead and you know from his tone, that if you don't fess up you'll be in trouble.

hesitantly you tell him during your elevator ride up 'good girl' he tells you while caressing your check. foolishly you relax and happily skip to the front door of the apartment.

however, the mood shifts drastically once the door closes and it pings locked.

yuta pushes you against the mirror hanging next to the front door. your forehead is touching it's cold surface while yuta cages you from behind. one of his arms is circling you, preventing your movement, while the other is covering and lightly squeezing the lower half of your face 'did you think that you were being funny?'

he stares you down in the mirror and you shake your head 'did you think at all before opening your mouth?' he spoke in to your left ear. you shook in his grasp. you start overheating from your coat and yuta's close proximity, but an undeniable feeling of arousel starts to creep.

he turns you around gripping you face again and your shoulder 'maybe you should use your mouth for something better then risky smalltalk' he releases you and starts taking his coat off 'strip.

you move at the speed of lightning throwing clothes all around, while yuta gracefully takes off everything except the dress. you stand there naked shaking like a leaf, not from nerves but from the sheer desire for your boyfriend to have you.

'kneel.' you gently lower yourself right there and look up at him. yuta is towering over you in all his glory. you can see his dick bulging up underneath the dress and the visual makes you squeeze your thighs together.

'open up' he gently holds your chin and you stick your tongue out. he lets his spit slowly drip down into your mouth, all the while holding your gaze.

he lets go of your face and you remain in the same position. yuta lifts his dress up, revealing his fully hard dick and ties strings on one side.

you start by spreading his spit all over with your tongue and gently massaging his balls. you suck on his tip and keep massaging him. after couple sucks you start taking half of him in. going up and down his shaft, flattening your tongue on down motion and licking at top without releasing the tip from your mouth, while still massaging his balls with your hands.

yuta is grunting lowly above you. his left hand is on your head massaging your scalp 'you are doing so well. i know this is all you could think about during our walk. probably something even dirtier, like me fucking you in the back alleyway. and if i wanted to you'd let me, right? you are truly my good girl. good, but dirty and downright depraved little girl, aren't you?' you hum happily and take his dick all the way down.

your nose is pressing against his belly and you squeeze his balls harder and start humming to create a vibration' oh, shit! hold on baby' and you let go of him. you place your hands on his thighs and relax your throat even farther.

yuta grabs your head with both hands and starts fucking your mouth without holdbacks. you breath through your nose and let yourself be completely consumed by him. he goes at a brutal pace and tears foarm in your eyes. you can feel your pussy pulsating and you squeeze your thighs even harder. tears stream down and you can't see anything. you just feel.

he starts growling on top of you and somehow go even faster 'is this what you wanted, huh? for mommy to punish you? am i not giving you enough attention, so you misbehave for me to notice you? are you such a desperate little slut, hmm?'

yuta fully stops and keeps you pressed all the down and starts cuming down your throat. you feel lightheaded. fully enveloped by his smell and taste. you close your eyes and let go of his legs 'look at me. don't you remember? mommy wants you to always look in her eyes' you look at him and start shaking like a dog in heat. his eyes are full of raw desire to fully consume you.

and yuta sees the same in yours.

once he's done cumming he lets go of your head and gently ease you of himself. you lay down on your back breathing heavily. yuta squats in front of you and nudges your legs appart. he swipes his hand against your pussy and lifts it up for you to see. as he spreads his fingers appart, you can see your arousel stringing between them.

you start to turn to get on all fours but yuta stops you 'go to your place'

"your place" is a pool of soft blankets and pillows. placed next to the floor length mirrors in the leaving room he set up in his apartment for you. all because you enjoy to just look out the window at night while listening to the music. or lay around there waiting for him to come back home. all the blankets and pillows are in your favorite colors and designs, just for you.

you stretch your arms towards him to help you get up, but he shakes his head and gates up by himself 'crawl.' you don't need to be told twice and get moving. slowly crawling to the windows, acutely aware of his heavy gaze on you.

once you make it, you turn around and look at him, but he is right behind you. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and of your labored breaths prevented you hearing his movements.

he manhandles you into a mating press and you grab the back of your things. you expect him to fuck you now, but to your horror he slowly lowers his face towards your vagaina. you knew that you are in for a wild ride now and that being naughty is not for you.

yuta speards your pussy lips apart and spits on it. you feel it pool and drip down to your anus. he blows on it and you shudder from the temperature change.

he starts to gently massage spreading mixture of your arousel and his spit all around. from your pubic mound down to your ass without touching your clit. you start to shake from the anticipation, knowing he won't be calm and gentle for long.

you hear the sound of the slap first and the sting comes after. he slapped your clit and you whined. he slapped it again and again. you just keep on whining and sniffling. after several slaps you see that you pussy is all red and puffy. yuta dives right in.

you can't focus on any one thing in particular. you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. your skin is slippery from the sweat and it's hard to hold your legs pressed to your chest. and most overwhelming is yuta's devouring of your sipping heat.

he looks almost mad. his freshly dyed hair a mess. face all red and glistening with your release. and a stare of a rabied dog that is feeding for the first time in forever. he is looking straight at your and amid all the pleasure you feel almost shy.

but then he plunges three fingers in your fluttering hole and you forget all about it. while his tongue is lapping at your clit at an inhumane speed, his fingers play with your g-spot agonizingly slow. as you started to seize up yuta started to jab his fingers at it and suck on your clit with fool force.

the familiar pressure starts to build and then white, hot flush takes over you as you squirt into yuta's mouth.

your grip on your legs slips. yuta grabs your legs and pushes. you completely lose it and just shake from cumming and overstimulation, because yuta didn't let up and continued lapping up your juices and sucking on your pussy.

you come around and feel yuta's head still stuck between your thighs. both of you on your sides with you facing the window, looking over the night cityscape.

another orgasm hits you and you moan long and loud. you can feel just how soar you are. yuta turns you onto your back and kneels between your outstretched legs.

you can see your juices dripping down his chin, neck and onto his chest. his makeup completely ruined with mascara runs like in classic rom-com and lipstick gone. he is fully naked and hard. you manage to whisper out 'dress?'

'it got all sticky so I took it off. how do you feel?' he questioned as he lifted you up to a sitting position 'soar and empty' you can see that he cumed all over the blanket 'won't mommy feel me up?' you croacked out and batted your lashes.

yuta chuckles and nodes 'of course ,my good kitten deserves it. after all you did so well' he wipes hair away from your face and kisses your forehead.

he lays down and pulls you on top of him. first you kneel to straddle him, but he pulls you flush against him while keeping your legs in a kneeling position.

yuta carefully enters you, keeping in mind your soar body. once you're down to a hilt you both sigh in relief. he plants his feet on the floor and gently starts rocking into you.

he is slow and deliberate with his strokes. pleasure comes in waves, like you're laying on the shore with warm waves washing over your body again and again.

you both circle each with your arms 'you're my lovely puppy, aren't you? you always do so well for me. even if you're naughty you take your punishment like a champ. my little cutie. you are ready for me to fill you up?' you nod into his chest and let go of your own release.

you feel his warm seed fill you and all consuming bliss takes over your entire being. it spreads from your stomach all over like a liquid sunshine.

while basking in your afterglow you ask yuta 'can you keep your dress on next time?' he thinks for a moment 'can't make any promises'

'why not?' he turns you by you chin to face him, his eyes are full of devotion 'i want nothing on me but you'

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 69 ~ We've all got Jobs to do

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

Era : Season 5

Word Count : 6.4k

In this chapter ~ As Rose continues to contemplate the job she was unexpectedly offered, Deanna talks of a party she's throwing to welcome all of the newcomers such as themselves. But that's not all the group has to be weary of as Rose has a run-in with a certain doctor that puts her on edge. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

I was beyond irritated. Irritated because I was woken up at the ass crack of dawn to hear someone knocking frantically on the door, and that someone just so happened to be Deanna. The sight of her of all people irritated me too. She made a huge fuss about what happened yesterday with Nicholas, saying I ran away too fast before even having a chance to go to their infirmary to be looked at. But I knew it was pointless. The man had his hands around me for about two seconds before I shut it down immediately, wanting to just forget it ever happened. Though eventually, I agreed. Because she wouldn't seem to shut up about it until I did.

But the worst part was I was missing out on the first secret meeting with the others as they headed off toward the woods. Rick, Daryl, and Carol were planning to escape for a while to discuss what the next move would be to take back our guns. While I on the other hand had to go get a fucking check-up like a five year old. However, I knew that if I skipped out on seeing the doctor, Deanna would eventually find out, and I definitely didn't want to deal with that.

So, here I was, standing tiredly outside of the clinic, telling myself to knock while also simultaneously wanting to turn on my heel and leave. But the quicker I got in, the quicker I would get back out. With that I finally tapped my knuckles on the door and awaited the answer of the doctor that apparently was "too good to be true," according to the woman in charge.

The door swung open a few seconds later and I was met with a man that instantly gave me the chills. He looked perfectly normal upon first glance, but there was something about him that rubbed me the wrong way. I just didn't know what.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

But there it was. His speech was too slurred, and his breath smelled too much like liquor for it being nine in the morning. Seriously? The town drunk was the doctor that was too good to be true? The quicker I get in, the quicker I get out, Irepeated to myself before putting on the best fake smile I could muster.

"Yeah, I hope so. Deanna sent me over here to get looked at after what happened yesterday."

He gave me a blank look, like he had no clue what I was talking about. "The uh...the fight? Some guy got his hands around my throat and...well I guess it's better to be safe than sorry." I explained.

He let out a long sigh of frustration before reluctantly opening the door a bit wider, "Fine." he muttered, turning around to head back inside with a stomping of his feet, expecting me to follow.

My feet remained planted on the ground for a beat as I took a second to collect whatever patience I had left, before finally trailing after him. I followed his frame with my eyes as he led me into the back area, telling me to take a seat while he gathered some things together. I did a brief scan of the room, the varies of medical supplies before ultimately doing what he asked, sitting myself on some type of metal table. His back was facing me as he got everything he needed, surprising me a little that he was the one to break the dreaded silence.

"You're a part of that new group?" he asked, "Rose?"

My brows furrowed slightly, confused at how the hell he knew who I was, "Yeah..." I answered hesitantly, "How did you know my name?"

He turned around to face me now, "My wife said she met you the other day. Jessie."

Oh shit. "Oh, right yeah...briefly."

He hummed a response and came over with gloved hands, "Let me know if this hurts." he mumbled as he put some pressure on different parts of my throat.

I sat there patiently while his fingers moved with precision, but nothing pained me in the slightest. I knew coming here was a giant waste of time. My gaze traveled around the room again in utter boredom as I waited, scanning right past his head and quickly noticing a bottle of whiskey hidden behind a tissue box on the counter. Called it. But I didn't utter a word.

About a minute went by before he took his gloves off and threw them away in a nearby trashcan, taking out a small flashlight from his back pocket next. He aimed the light at different spots and angles of my neck to check for markings, before clicking it off a few seconds after.

"You might have some small bruising in the next few hours, but other than that you should be fine." he said under his breath as he turned away from me once more.

I nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I figured it wouldn't be anything too serious."

His head then suddenly whipped around to face me again rather quickly, "Then why the hell did you come in?" he questioned with a slightly raised voice.

My eyebrows flew up in shock at his sudden outburst for absolutely nothing, and the look on his face afterwards told me he knew he had fucked up. Not because he suddenly yelled at me, but because he didn't want anyone else to know about his bipolar behavior. He attempted to brush it off with a chuckle and raised his hands up to me as if he was surrendering.

"Sorry, sorry...I uh...didn't get much sleep last night. Someone kept me up." he said.

I hummed as if I understood, "Was his name Jack Daniels?"

The man's smile faded instantly, and a dangerous look appeared just behind his eyes. But I wasn't fearful. I knew he didn't have the balls to do a damn thing considering any marks or bruises he could potentially leave would be much harder to cover up rather than a few words he spit. Plus, he knew that I could fight. After all, that's the reason I came in here in the first place.

Now it was just the waiting game, to see who was going to make the next move. Personally, I was just waiting for him to say something, perhaps deny my assumption, but I could tell he was too angry to come up with a reasonable response.

"Does your wife know you start your day off with him bright and early?" I suddenly spoke again.

I was playing a dangerous game, but I wanted him to know a few things that were disguised behind my words. One, I wasn't going to let anyone talk to me like that. Two, I noticed his little secret that he seemed to keep hidden away. And three, I wasn't scared of him no matter how big and terrifying he may think he is.

His hands gripped the side of the counter until his knuckles turned white, and I took this as my cue to leave. "Well, thanks for the checkup doc. For your sake, I hope this is the last time I see you." I said sweetly before shoulder checking him on my way out, making it to the front door to leave.

I can honestly say I was left surprised when he didn't make a peep after the way my mouth ran on and on. But then again, he had to keep his sociopathic behaviors to himself, and couldn't show his true colors other than behind closed doors was my best guess. My mind didn't linger on the interaction for longer than it had to, tucking it in the back of my mind for later in case the man could potentially be a problem. But I prayed to God he wouldn't be.

Time passed as I finally made my way back to the safety of the house, expecting to see a few stragglers inside, but instead the place was empty when I walked through the door. The silence was almost unnerving in a way. But I tried to not let it bother me as I opted out to head upstairs, needing to find something to pass the time.

As I passed the bedrooms to my right, I stopped and backtracked a few feet when I noticed someone was in fact home. Michonne stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking at herself in the uniform she was given that looked exactly like Rick's, turning different ways to see every angle. I leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching as she adjusted the jacket a few times in unsureness.

"Damn, look at you girl." I suddenly spoke.

She jumped a little at my presence, but smiled when she saw it was just me, "Yeah?" she asked genuinely, "It's not too much?"

"No, it is," I said honestly, "You just pull it off pretty well."

Her smile grew larger, "Thank you." she muttered somewhat bashfully, before pausing and looking towards me a bit longer, "You know...you could be rocking one of these jackets right along with me."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I know."

"So why don't you just accept the job? I mean if we're going to stay, I think that would be the best thing for you." she said.

"I don't know, Chonne...it's just not something that I thought I would ever have to do again. I mean it's not like I hated my job or anything, but...it's just a lot, I guess. Going back to normal."

She nodded, "I know, believe me it feels weird for me too. But we'll get used to it, build up something for the future. If you really think about it, this is the start of something that could be pretty amazing."

I didn't say another thing as I just looked at her, a growing smile on my face that apparently made her grow uneasy. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing...you've just come a long way since I first met you." I said.

She rolled her eyes playfully, "Haven't we all?"

"I guess so," I shrugged, "But you've just become so...positive. Makes me sick sometimes." I joked as I scrunched my nose a bit.

"Just trying to move forward and be optimistic." she said with a small laugh. I hummed in response, watching as she grew a little more serious, "But seriously...just think about it, yeah?"

I stared at her for a moment longer before slowly nodding my head in agreement. I already told Deanna I would think it over, and that's exactly what I was doing. I just didn't know if this decision was the right one. Looking at this opportunity, I only saw it as a shell of who I once was, and that's not someone I necessarily wanted to go back to. All of this was supposed to be a chance to give us a fresh start, not something old from the past that we were trying hard to forget.

The floorboard suddenly creaking to my left is what caused me to look over, seeing Rick was back and making his way up the stairs to stand beside me.

"Hey," he greeted as he squeezed my shoulder before then nodding towards Michonne, "Deanna wants to have a meeting with us about the job. Just the basics of what we're doing." he informed her.

Michonne nodded simply, moving to make her way out of the room as I let her pass, "Well, you kids have fun." I spoke sarcastically to the two of them.

The man chuckled, "Uh, yeah don't think you're getting away that easy. She specifically asked that we bring you along too." My eyes narrowed at him, and he quickly raised his hands to defend himself, "It wasn't my idea, don't look at me like that."

"I haven't even agreed to take this, why do I have to go?"

"Because if I go down, I'm taking you with me." Rick muttered so only I could hear, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to practically drag me out of the house alongside them.

My stomach churned uncomfortably, the anticipation building further and further as we approached her familiar house, making me want to crawl into a hole. I felt as if this is something that I shouldn't be a part of, something I shouldn't have any input on seeing as I hadn't fully committed to the role. And there was still something about this woman that always left me feeling a sense of dread. One that I had felt before, yet couldn't quite place.

As the three of us finally rolled in, Maggie was sitting at the dining table with Deanna to her left, a welcoming smile on her face once she noticed us.

"Ah welcome you three." Deanna greeted, giving us a chance to pile into the room, "Mrs. Dixon tha-"

"Rose." I interrupted with a wave of my hand, "Just Rose."

She nodded slowly, "Of course. Rose, thank you for coming along for the ride. Have you had enough time to think about my proposal?"

I glanced around at the others before shaking my head, "Um, no... still thinking."

"Well, take all the time you need. I've also been meaning to check in to see how the visit with Pete went today, is everything alright?" she asked.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, "Oh yeah, everything's great..." I said sarcastically.

She nodded, "Good."

Man, that one really flew over her head.

Though the man being brought to my attention again caused me to cease the opportunity while I had it, subtly gesturing for Rick's attention while Deanna's eyes were directed elsewhere. Exchanging a few words with Maggie that I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to. I felt him shift closer when he noticed my waving hand, leaning closer so I could lower my voice.

"Keep an eye on him." I muttered.

"Who?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the others as to not draw attention.

"Pete, the doctor. He's an alcoholic and was showing signs of aggression during our little time together. Could be abusive." I said casually. Though I could feel his gaze divert toward me, staring at me in what looked to be slight amazement. "What?" I asked.

An impressed smile crossed his lips, "Nothing...detective." he emphasized.

I rolled my eyes, "Shut up."

"How long exactly were you with him?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, a few minutes?"

"You found all of that out in a few minutes? And you still don't think this is the job for you?" he continued.

"It wasn't hard to figure out," I assured, "Just please back me up on this, okay?"

Upon seeing how serious I grew, he instantly nodded his head, "You got it, Rosie."

As if on cue, Deanna tore her attention away from Maggie the moment our silent conversation was done, getting straight to business it seemed like. "Well, it seems we all know why we're here. And your job is to protect and serve. You patrol, walk the wall, watch out for the kids. If there's a conflict- you solve it, and people will listen to you."

"Because we're wearing windbreakers?" Michonne asked, her eyes briefly looking at me with a knowing smile.

"Because they believe in this." she answered seriously, "Because I'm telling them to. A police officer used to live here so we already had the jackets, and I wanted to make it official. So, now it's official. There's going to be a government again one day and that's why I want Maggie working with me. There's also going to be a police force, which is why I want...you three to start it."

I couldn't help but shake my head at what she was saying, looking down at my shoes. "What?" she asked when she noticed the slight tension in the room, "Does it sound like pie in the sky?"

"No." Maggie answered immediately, Michonne's voice following soon after as she gave the woman the same answer; the one she wanted to hear.

Deanna then looked at Rick and I expectantly, "No..." we both seemed to mutter at the same time.

But it did. Every single thing she talked about seemed unrealistic, something that she tried hard to push for even though it wouldn't work out in the end. People had to be willing to work together in order to make a bright future possible. But from what I've witnessed, it seemed like not everyone here liked to play nice. And she had absolutely no idea.

"Let's talk security." Rick suddenly said, gesturing with his fingers for us to follow him back outside to look at the gates of Alexandria.

My boots clicked against the pavement as I followed behind the others, hearing Rick start to do what he does best. Take over. But he had clearly noticed something that he wanted to bring our attention to; and that was the lack of protection. He couldn't seem to express enough how there needed to be people on patrol at all times. How there should be someone constantly looking for any type of danger that could be coming our way. It amazed me slightly that this place had lasted as long as it had without really anyone keeping an eye out, especially with how the world was now.

Rick's voice seemed to fade into the background as I looked around at the walls, wanting to find any blind spots that Deanna should be made aware of for the future. But I paused when my eyes instead caught sight of Jessie and Pete standing just outside of the infirmary, talking quietly amongst each other. But by the look on his face, it didn't appear like the conversation would be staying peaceful for very long, his skin turning a slight shade redder. I watched the interaction closely, as if wanting to catch something I wasn't meant to see. As if to prove to myself that I was right about him from the very beginning.

"Excuse me?"

I blinked a few times and looked over to see Sasha approaching the small group we had formed, politely interrupting whatever was being said. However, I quickly tore my attention away again to find the couple I had been analyzing just seconds ago, but to my surprise, they were gone. Like they had vanished into thin air. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me all along, or maybe they had noticed me watching, quickly escaping from the public eye while my attention was elsewhere. I was leaning toward the latter.

"I want to volunteer to be one of the lookouts in the clock tower." Sasha spoke again, her hands resting on her hips as she looked toward Deanna.

"There are no lookouts in the clock tower." the woman said.

My brows furrowed as I was caught up with the conversation now, "What?" I found myself asking before my brain had time to process it.

Michonne grew concerned, "But we saw someone up there earlier."

Deanna waved it off, "That was an empty rifle my son, Spencer put up there. He mans it sometimes but not often. Look...there hasn't been a need."

I couldn't hold it back any longer. Her ignorance and stupidity starting to really get under my skin, "Hasn't been a need? Do you have any idea how dangerous people can be now?" I asked harshly, "There should have always been the need to have someone up there...if you want to protect your people that live here, you better be prepared to make some damn changes."

A deafening silence followed after my outburst. But deep down, I knew they all were aware of how right I was. "The truth is harsh sometimes, but someone had to say it." I muttered.

"No, I agree." Rick chimed in, "We need a lookout in that tower right now, twenty-four seven. It's the only way we'll be able to see if someone's coming at us."

The woman nodded her head in compliance, "Okay, okay, we'll make shifts."

"I'll take those shifts, as many as possible." Sasha quickly offered.

Deanna stared at her for a moment, "Why?"

My eyes panned back and forth between the two women, wanting to roll my eyes at my next words. Even if they were true. "Sasha's one of our best shots, she can handle it."

Sasha glanced over at me in obvious surprise, but ultimately nodded her head as a thank you, to which I returned the gesture. There was obviously a certain tension left between the two of us ever since we were nearly at each other's throats the last time we spoke. But I wasn't planning on holding a grudge. After all I would just be a hypocrite. If Aaron forgave me then why shouldn't I?

Deanna nodded to herself as she looked back at Sasha, "I'm going to put Spencer up there today, and I'll consider you being our primary lookout...but I want something in return."

Sasha grew to look just about as confused as the rest of us, "Tonight, I'm hosting a welcome for all of you at my home. I want you to be there." she said to the woman.

"Why?" she asked.

"Come tonight...then we'll talk about it." she said before turning towards me, "And you too. Don't try and hide out like you have been since the day you got here."

My eyebrows raised, "I'm sorry...hide out?"

"I can see why you and Mr. Dixon are married...similar in many ways. Like running away from anything unfamiliar. But if you'd just venture out for the evening, who knows? You might even have fun." she said with a raise of her eyebrows.

My fists clenched tightly at my sides as I wanted to rip her a new one, but I didn't. I managed to swallow whatever pride I had left before turning around to walk away without another word. It had only been three days in this hell and that bitch was acting like she somehow knew me like the back of her hand. To me it was unbelievable, the way she treated me the minute I walked through her door; like I was below her. It infuriated me.

The sound of heavy footsteps seemed to echo with mine the moment I took off, glancing over my shoulder to see Rick jogging to catch up with me. "Who the hell does she think she is?" I asked harshly before he could even get a word in.

He was slightly out of breath from the little run he had to make, "I don't know...I'm just surprised you held your tongue."

"Oh," I breathed, "Believe me, you have no idea. I'm over here considering her offer to help her and all she can seem to do is insult and condescend me like..." I trailed off, suddenly slowing down to a stop as I came to the sudden realization.

I hadn't thought about her in years. And now it was like she was standing in front of me all over again.

Rick looked down at me in concern, "Like what?"

"Like my mother used to." I finished, connecting the dots in my head finally as to why I resented the woman so much. Why I couldn't stand to be in the same room as her, or even look her in the eye. It was like my childhood was flooding back to me at full force.

But to my surprise the man next to me started to laugh a little, unknowing of the weight behind my words. Though one unamused look from me seemed to shut him up as he cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Just...talk about something else, so I don't break into the armory and shoot myself right now." I replied with a thin-lipped smile.

"Speaking of," he lowered his voice, "Carol thought of a plan. She wants to sneak in there tonight so we can get a few of our weapons back."

I blinked, "That's what you guys talked about?" He nodded. "Some meeting." I muttered sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, "I don't like not having those guns on us at all times; we're taking them back. The party tonight- everyone's gonna be there. That's our chance."

I nodded slowly, "Okay, fine. Carol's taking care of it?"

His eyes panned from me to just past my head, "I'm about to find out." he said, causing me to turn around to see where his gaze was now trained too. The woman herself was standing nearby, talking to some neighbor on the porch a few houses down from where we stood.

"Okay," I agreed as I turned back around, "Just keep me updated on what's happening." I spoke, snapping his attention back to me as he nodded in confirmation. "Did Daryl come back with you?"

He nodded, "Yeah, but he said something about heading out again to go out on a hunt. I'm thinking he needs more time away from here."

"Right. I'm going to try and catch him before he leaves."

"I'll talk to Carol." he said.

And with that, we parted ways, splitting off to head down different directions of the street. In my opinion, the idea of taking back the guns that were rightfully ours to begin with didn't seem like that big of a deal. It's not like we were trying to take over this place now, even if it was something to keep in the back of our minds.

My head was practically spinning and it was already starting to feel like the longest day of my life. With the secrecy we were keeping from the others about the armory, the idea of Pete being a new threat we had yet to escape from, and Deanna...it was a lot to process. I suppose this just goes to show that it doesn't matter how lucky you are with what you got, life truly doesn't get any easier.

"Hey, Ro!"

I sighed as I came to a stop again. What now?

Looking back, I saw Maggie approaching as she too apparently wanted to catch me before I wandered off, coming around to face me with a soft huff. "Well...that could've gone better don't you think?"

"You're the one who jumped at the opportunity to work alongside someone like that." I deadpanned.

She sighed, "Don't start. You know we need to put in the work, make an effort around here if we want to stay. And that includes going to that party..." she hinted sheepishly.

I pretended to think about it for a moment, "Hm...no."

Her face dropped, "What? Come on babe, she asked you to be there just like everyone else should be."

"Yeah, right before she insulted me." I corrected, "Did you know she acted like that from the minute I had my interview with her? She didn't even know me, and she still looked down her nose at me. I can't say I'm a huge fan."

She sighed, "Alright- you're right, she shouldn't have treated you like that. So, don't show up for her, show up for...me. Please?"

"Don't do this to me." I said with a roll of my eyes.

"Now, you know you don't do nothing you don't wanna do, but it would mean a lot if you stopped by tonight. And hey, maybe you can even get Daryl to go."

I stared at her like she was crazy. "Oh yeah, he'll be there. Maybe I can even get him to wear a nice, pretty dress."

She narrowed her eyes at me, "Stop."

"No, no, maybe with some heels too, that'll be real nice and classy."

"Okay, enough, you made your point." she laughed lightly, "But you never know unless you ask, and I know that man would do just about anything for you."

I sighed heavily, "Alright I'll ask...but I'm preparing to get shut down."

"So...you'll be there?" she asked with that hopeful glint in her eye.

It was silent for a few seconds before I rolled my eyes again how she was able to subtly manipulate me, "I'll be there."

A smile broke out onto her face and she pulled me into a hug, thanking me over and over again under her breath. I couldn't really understand why it was so important that I showed up in the first place when the others company would be just as good as mine, but I didn't linger on it. After we parted she began heading in the other direction, but not before calling over her shoulder that I should wear something nice. Like a dress? I was kind of joking about that. I guess maybe now it was a part of my karma.

Again I found myself lost in a spiral of thoughts on the way back into the house, mindlessly wandering in to see if Daryl was around here somewhere or if I was too late and he had already left. A part of me wanted to at least try to convince him to come with me, but I knew in the back of my mind he wouldn't do it. He hated shit like this just as much as I did.

Going out and socializing wasn't really his thing and that's okay. Socializing wasn't really my thing either, but here I am, being forced to go against my will. "You should take the job," "You should come to the party," man, these people were sure as hell making themselves comfortable crowding on my back. And I say that with love.

I looked up suddenly when I heard footsteps making their way down the stairs, seeing my husband in all his glory, standing there with his crossbow slung across his back ready for a hunt.

"Hey, there ya are." he said as he came up and kissed my cheek, "Was just about to head out and find ya."

I smiled, "I was looking for you too."

We fell in step together as he headed toward the kitchen just down the hall, "Did ya talk to Rick bout the meetin we had this mornin?"

I nodded, "Yep, the plan about the guns, be ready for anything, we aren't taking this place over yet still being cautious. I got the whole thing." I went on.

He huffed softly, "Alright, good. M' bout to go out huntin but I'll be back by dark. Just wanted to come and say goodbye to ya first." he said with a sweet smile before turning and grabbing a glass from a cabinet.

I took in a breath, "Okay, yeah just be safe out there...and uh, I actually wanted to run something by you quick."

"Shoot." he said, briefly glancing at me over his shoulder.

Here we go. "Well, Deanna mentioned this thing earlier that's happening tonight at her house, and the whole group is invited. It's more like a...party?"

"Mhm." he hummed.

Jesus Christ, please take the hint.

"And the thing is, I wanted to ask if you...would spare me the absolute horror of having to go by myself...?" I asked hesitantly.

He was silent for a moment before he let out a soft huh sound, turning on the faucet and holding the glass underneath to get the cup full of water. "I know it's not your thing; it's definitely not mine either, but I sort of promised Maggie I'd show up. Not that I know what difference that would make, I don't exactly light up the room with my bubbly personality. But anyway, I get it if you don't want to, I just thought I would, you know, ask."

"Rosie?" he questioned.

I raised my eyebrows, "Yeah?"

"Yer rambling." he said with a slight chuckle.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, "My point is, you really don't have to go if you don't want to."

There was a long and terribly loud silence as I watched the wheels turn in his head even though he was facing away from me. He took his time taking long sips of the water in his hand, purposefully making me crazy. I could almost sense the smirk on his face while he did it. He knew what he was doing, I just wanted him to turn down the offer faster so I could get on with my day.

My nails began to tap impatiently on the counter, "May I remind you that you don't have to go?" I repeated to try and move this along.

He turned back to look at me, his smirk fading slowly as he saw the look on my face, before he turned back and dumped the rest of the water down the drain, "Ya want me to go?" he asked, now facing me again.

"Well...yeah-" I started.

"Then I'll go."

I shook my head a little, "What, that easy?"

He shrugged with a small smile, "Yep." he said, making his way over to stand in front of me, "But I ain't stayin the whole time." he warned.

"I'm not staying the whole time."

"Well, then you got a date pretty lady." he said softly before leaning down to peck my lips, the action alone bringing the reassurance I needed.

I hummed with a smile as I tilted my head to look at his face a little longer before he left for a few hours, "Is it pushing it if I asked you to dance with me while we're there?"

"Yeah." he answered immediately.

I shrugged, "Eh, worth a shot."

He chuckled quietly, leaning down to kiss me once more before parting from me, adjusting the strap of his weapon. "Might not be back by the time it starts, but I'll be there, alright?"

"Hey, you're showing up, that's more than I could ask for." I joked.

He smiled, "I'll see ya later."

"Bye" I winked, watching as he headed out toward the front door, opening and shutting it with a soft click, leaving me alone in the quiet.

Now I had the whole day to be anxious about this stupid party.

I never thought I would ever be in this situation again. Staring at a closet full of clothes, absolutely not knowing what the hell to wear.

I was never a big fan of dresses really, but it seemed like the only suitable option considering I didn't just want to show up in a shirt and jeans. I had been nervously anticipating this event for hours, cautious about meeting a bunch of people and the thought of dressing up sounded awful. But regardless, I promised Maggie that I would be there, and a part of me wanted to prove to Deanna that I wasn't just going to hide myself away like she had claimed. Even though I felt it was better that I did.

Eventually, I decided on a simple black dress with thin straps and added a pair of tights to really bring the look together. And luckily enough, I had managed to find a pair of dark heels sitting in an old shoe box in the closet, a pair that looked like they would absolutely torture my feet the moment I put them on. I sighed quietly to myself before walking over to the full-length mirror and taking a look at the final product in the reflection.

My eyes widened slightly when I saw what I looked like. I guess maybe I could clean up nice, even though the scars on my face didn't really match the whole "classy" look; it was still unique. My thick curly hair came down to below my chest and surprisingly looked full and healthy, but as my eyes trailed down, I noticed just how jittery my hands were. A small part of me wished that Daryl was here to help soothe my worries, walking right next to me into that personal hell as we went through it together. But that wasn't the case. I didn't need him there, but I wanted him there.

"Wow." came a sudden voice from the doorway.

I turned around slowly to see Rick standing there with slightly wide eyes and his hands on his hips. He was dressed nicely in a clean, white button down and some nice black jeans with his hair slightly slicked back.

I made a face, "Like a good wow?" I asked, subconsciously smoothing the dress down to get rid of any lingering wrinkles.

He nodded his head, "Yeah...like a...a breathtaking wow."

A shy smile stretched across my lips as I waved him off, "Aw, thanks Ricky." 

He laughed softly, making his way further into the room until he was standing right in front of me, "I've never seen you so dressed up...you look nice."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it or anything. You don't look too bad yourself." I said as I slightly fixed the collar of his shirt, "Got someone you're trying to impress?" I asked with a wiggle of my eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes, "Thank you, but no. Just going because..." he trailed off, before sighing as he rubbed his head stressfully, "I don't even know why I'm going."

I nodded, "You're not the only one in that boat." I muttered, my eyes taking him in for a moment in contemplation, "Hey, can I ask you something?" He met my eyes and nodded. "That job...you really think I should take it?"

"Yeah," he assured almost instantly, "I get why you're weary...but you're damn good at being a cop Rose. You just have to...trust yourself again."

I knew he was right. At times like these when all I could do was doubt myself, he always seemed to swoop in and say just the right thing whenever I needed to hear it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad in the end.

I smiled at him in appreciation before my feet involuntarily shifted uncomfortably, to which I let out a frustrated groan. Rick began to chuckle under his breath, "What, was the advice that bad?" I heard him ask.

"No," I sighed, "We just haven't even left the house yet, and my feet are already killing me." I said in faux agony.

He laughed even harder before moving by my side to place an arm around my shoulders for support, "It's alright. Just lean on me when you need to." 

"Ah, you're the best." I mused as I wrapped an arm around him to steady myself as we walked out the bedroom door.

After getting Carl and Judith, the four of us left the house to venture down the street towards Deanna's. The sun was just starting to set which gave the whole community a warm orange glow, and we could already start to hear the music that was being played from the inside as we inched our way closer to the source.

Before any of us were really ready for it, we were standing tall in front of the door, almost dreading to knock. Though eventually Rick stepped up to the plate while Carl and I eyed each other cautiously, both silently hoping this wouldn't be as bad as we thought. But just as that thought crossed my mind, the door opened up to reveal Deanna standing there, greeting us with a welcoming smile. While over half the community in the background immediately looked over at us with curious glances.

Yeah, this was going to be a long fucking night.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist ~ @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @marsmallow433 @catlalice @winterassassin1804 @writingstreetspirit @silentlysurffering98 @mystictf @remuslittlesister

[tricoloreddango]

☆Glass Breaking☆

Chrollo Lucilfer x female reader

Second and last part to [link]. I recommend reading first part to make a sense of the story.

contents: angst / slight manga spoilers / childhood trauma / Chrollo has an identity crisis / mentions of suicide / non-con attempt (only in a nightmare and as a paranoia) / non-consensual touching / mentions of violence / manipulation / generally suggestive.

Do not read it if you’re a minor or uncomfortable with mentioned topics.

Word count: 8.7k

The hotel suite you were made to stay in was all silent, ignoring the occasional buzz of the AC keeping the place cool. The place was all modern, but with some darker and raw design that wasn't helping your current mood. You doubted it was paid for in the first place as well. No, for someone like Chrollo or other members who sometimes visited, it was much easier to get rid of the person that rented the suite, take over once that person is disposed, and protect their identity at the same time.

Said Chrollo was gone somewhere again, having left without telling you much, as he’s been doing so the entire time of your stay here. It’s been few weeks after he’s taken you with him, with it signalling the start of your new way of living. Every question about his whereabouts were dismissed with a wording too general for you to make a specific guess, unless his leaving was for more trivial reasons such as shopping.

Even just the idea of doing something as simple as shopping felt odd when you thought of Chrollo, now that you’ve learned Chrollo isn’t Eric and that Eric was a completely different person in his being anyway. For all you were not told, he might as well be killing someone during his current disappearance. Probably was.

However, his absence was beneficial to you, or so you assumed. Only then you were able to try to spot any of the smallest details that could let you get out of this place, and today, was meant to be another of your escape attempts. You were now standing near the dark grey door leading out of the hotel suite, ready to discover the mechanism of the electronic lock as another thing on the list of crucial to your leaving details. You didn't plan to go much further than to the reception to ask to call for help; rather you'd make someone working here try to reach out hunter association right away.

Only for your dream to be ruined. You froze in your stand, your hand falling off of the handle when you heard a cheery voice behind you, one you didn’t expect to be heard; not today. You thought you were alone in the suite, deducing that with its quietness.

“Here you are, snooping around again,” Shalnark said with a mock disappointment yet his voice stayed as happy as always. Perhaps to him, your attempts were nothing but childish (and rather adorable, condescendingly), amused that you thought you’d be able to leave. A random and nenless woman, surrounded and known by the wolves aroud her, should only choose to submit to her current situaton.

“Boss wouldn’t like hearing about you trying to find a way out, for…” Shalnark paused, pretending to think of the right number as if he didn’t know it immediately, “… fourteenth time this week!”

You turned around with a sense of unease. You should have known that your moves would have been watched around people like them, people like Chrollo. You were still not entirely sure what the roles of Phantom Troupe members were exactly, especially when they were mostly assigned to simply watch you while Chrollo was gone; not to mention they'd been evading any more serious concerns you had.

Their superiority over you exerted itself in the fact that it was hard to tell each time another troupe member was in the chamber as their moves were too quiet to be spotted to an amateur like you, or even hunters. You could be in another room, just a wall between, and you'll be unaware someone has entered.

You looked at blonde haired young man, wondering what should you say. It wasn’t that being caught again stressed you—it was simply being in presence of members like him that made you anxious, knowing about many crimes the Phantom Troupe was accused of. Especially when, regardless of how many escape attempts you had, so far, there was no consequences for you—somehow. Maybe they all found them that funny and pathetic they didn’t even take you seriously.

“Chrollo also does things I don’t like yet he doesn’t consider my opinion on that,” you said defensively, crossing your arms. Your words made Shalnark laugh. Yep, you really were an entertainment for the public at this point.

“You’re always so sarcastic, no wonder boss likes you so much!” he giggled, but then stopped for a moment, as if catching himself in some forbidden act. “Don’t tell him I said that though.”

Your eye twitched at the mention of Chrollo “liking you.” You well remembered his given reasoning for forcing you to be the part of his life, and while you tried to make the sense of his wording back then, it still sounded like a mental talk today. This reasoning wasn't enough excusable to drag you out of your own life anyway. You didn’t want to be liked by Chrollo if this is what being likeable by him means. Were you that much of an odd person to draw his interest? You found yourself common in and out. The sarcastic speech was nothing but you being unable to keep your frustrations to yourself, not an attempt at being sassy.

“And why is that?” you asked with curiosity, wondering if Chrollo happens to have a weak spot Shalnark could have just implied; something to use. “Boss is just trying to be all cool and mysterious, you know. I don’t want to ruin his image!” he teased you, not giving you any serious answer in the end.

Next, his hand was on your back as he led you back deep inside the suite, and into a living room with a good view of the city and spacious couch and glass coffee table, tall ceiling, cement walls—all interior in same gloomy colors. You were pushed down onto the black leather couch, and being shoven a remote into your hand. “If you’re really that bored, just watch some movie.” As if you didn’t have enough of them already. “I have some work to do,” Shalnark announced and disappeared into one of the rooms in the corridor. But before he closed the door, he shouted back at you, “And don’t move anywhere, I will know you did!” The door was slammed shut.

The suite was quiet again, but this time, every second felt like an anticipation for something. You didn’t remember the last time you felt truly calm, as your “hostage” situation had you stay stressed out. You missed your life, you missed your aunt, but above all, you missed your autonomy and feeling of safety.

Yes, your life wasn’t glamorous working as an IT worker all day, neither was your pay. There hadn't been much to look forward to that you didn’t do already everyday. But you had a choice and such ability makes people who they are, as that’s how they express themselves; and at least you weren’t dealing with a deadly group of criminals. You were still unaware of Chrollo’s intentions with you (besides “I want to understand you” talk), not sure how far he’d go in hurting you, but expecting the worst just in case—hence your ongoing anxiety.

The silence was killing you, so you turned on the tv. Switching between channels back and forth, you didn’t find anything interesting, but you stayed on news channels for few minutes, hoping to see a report about yourself. You didn’t. It really got you thinking of multiple theories. Was your aunt uncaring about your disappearance? Or, did she report it, but you just weren’t that important in eyes of public to be put on the news for people to know? Or even worse, was she forced to be silenced, perhaps with violence? Chrollo promised to not hurt her as long as you comply, but you couldn’t believe him. Secrecy leads to mistrust, mistrust leads to resentment.

A random commercial channel stayed on when you shoved your head back against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. So much boredom was forced upon you. Chrollo took you outside, knowing you’d be both an annoyance and resentful if he keeps you inside all day, but you never had a full control of the choice where and for how long. You felt more like a dog being walked, and it’s not as if you enjoyed his presence much. You liked Eric from before whole Chrollo reveal, but he was an illusion of who Chrollo truly was.

Another thing was the cause of your kidnapping. Normally, women are kidnapped to be tortured, raped, killed, trafficked or as a hostage. And you instead were living a, somewhat, normal life. With occasional affection Chrollo expressed towards you, it felt disgustingly domestic too.

You could never feel safe regardless, due to how powerless you were. Not even a hunter, not even a nen or knowledge how to learn it you possessed.

You were getting lost in thought until a voice shook you aware again. Twice in a row wasn't good for your health. “A penny for your thoughts?” the voice teased gently.

You immediately sat up straight, seeing Chrollo has returned and was standing inside the room. You were really going to get a heart attack with these people soon!

“Chrollo, what the hell,” you grumbled in annoyance, to which Chrollo chuckled. He was eyeing you bit intensely, liking what he’s seeing, though not in a suggestive way really; you weren’t wearing anything other than a simple sweatpants and T-shirt anyway, unless he foud you desirable like this anyway. He was content with having your person here, especially when you were making his fantasies come true. “I don’t think I’m to blame here. You looked zoned out.”

“I wouldn’t hear you enter even if I wasn’t.”

Chrollo only smiled in amusement, before he walked towards you and sat down on the coach next to you, with a space between you two thankfully. You tensed up impulsively, and even that small wriggle got his attention. Looking sideways at him, you noticed he was dressed up rather casually today, not betraying any location he had spent his time at—just some black jeans and black long sleeve, all mysterious and... You suddenly laughed as you remembered Shalnark’s words. Perhaps the blondie was right.

Chrollo looked at you in curiosity, not at all offended, merely curious. “You’re laughing, something I don’t see often. Care to share why is that?” he said with interest. Looking at him, you switched from laughing to a sigh. Should you really say what Shalnark told you? “Someone described as you trying to be all cool and mysterious,” you said through a snicker anyway.

His eyes widened, but just slightly; there was no embarrassment or anger either. “Shalnark, you mean?” he assumed. When you nodded, he couldn’t help but ask, “And do you find it to be true?”

You didn’t know if the question was meant to be tricky, meant to see how far your disrespect could go, but you went with honesty as always. “Well… you do act all mysterious. You’re also annoying to me, since you hide so much from me.” Yet you fell into your own trap by answering him, as the question made you thought of your current position and your tone was getting heated up. “When will you finally explain everything to me—” you wanted to add angrily, but all of the sudden, Chrollo pulled you onto his side.

His right arm held you close to him, wrapped around your waist, and he ignored you trying to squirm away. He leaned forward to grab the book from the coffee table, one he left behind before leaving today, and leaning back, he looked at you again. “Let me go, Chro—”

“Calm down. You were stressed out lately, so let’s refocus your mind elsewhere,” he said way too calmly for your own emotional state. You felt nothing but gaslit by him; considering he didn’t even address your concerns and with that, acted as if there’s nothing bad going. You had a lot to worry about, having been literally kidnapped.

Any further protests you had, Chrollo kept holding you like this until you finally stopped trying to get away and cursing him, all resigned as he was more stubborn than you. Only then he opened that damn book, left handed too, and started reading aloud for some reason. His arm pressed you even closer to him, with your head forced against his shoulder. You wanted to ask him what he’s doing, but you gave up on the idea, knowing this infuriating man wouldn’t answer you. You really couldn’t handle a man like him—you, always honest, inquiring and expressive; and him, all nonchalant, secretive and confusing.

The further confusion led you to finally look down at the book’s pages, trying to understand him at least through the stories he was reading. Of course you heard him say same words aloud, but you preferred to read yourself. You didn’t even realize when you now were focusing on the story yourself, your mind finally quiet for once in the spread of last few weeks.

‘It was of course nothing to worry about, he accepted the setback only because he was looking for a fight. If he stayed at home and carried on with his normal life he would be a thousand times superior to these people and could get any of them out of his way just with a kick,’ you read. Kafka.

Following with the flow of the book wasn’t that easy, considering you tended to consume books that are easy on the mind as a form of relaxation and not classical literature, but you tried your best. Your another effort was you trying to understand Chrollo, wondering if the book was picked based on its quality, or if it had an even more significant meaning; all without realizing you were giving him exactly what he has wanted the entire time. Understantment and exploration, job forced on you.

Chrollo glanced at you for a second, you all so prettily unaware, and back at the book’s pages. Leaving you confused and uninformed about his intensions and actions was a key part in making you understand him. If you aren’t provided an answer, you’ll look for an answer yourself, with that you’ll be going through a natural process of getting to know Chrollo—a catalyst he has created for you. He could have told you things about yourself, but not only he did not understand everything about himself, your thoughts about him were meant to be more deep should you be forced to think for yourself.

Not to mention a possible attachment. Sometimes you sparked a bit of possessiveness in him as he doubted he’d like any man being so intimate with you. You were his to explore and he was yours to understand.

Reading along with Chrollo eventually put you under a spell of nothingness on your mind, especially that his voice was smooth and calm enough on your ears with them involuntarily soaking in the sound, and you were finally shifting your attention somewhere else than your problem. You didn’t even question his method of calming you down anymore... or his intensions.

But whether you learned something new about Chrollo… you noticed he wants you to enjoy same books he does, as he has occasionally stopped for your sake so you could catch up after needing to reaad some line multiple times; he also liked physical contact more than verbal communication, as his fingers were absently rubbing your arm. And…

“So you’re ambidextrous?” you finally asked after good quarters of break from speaking due to reading. Chrollo turned his head to look at you, also enjoying the little weariness in your voice. Good, you were getting relaxed. “You noticed, huh? It makes things easier, when…” He had to stop himself here, realizing it’s too soon to tell you about his ability. Its existence would propably only scare you further, should you realize how much he can hurt you with it if he chooses to. Regardless, he looked somewhat satisfied that you found out a detail about him. A small detail, but it meant you pay attention to who he was.

“When?” you asked with a raised brow, wanting him to finish his thought. “When I work,” he said simply.

Hearing ‘work’ was like a sudden whiplash. You now were self aware again, having realized you were getting so comfortable in his presence, forgetting he’s a literal murderer and monster. More awake, you tried to get away from him again, which he didn’t let you, no matter how little the space in his arms felt compared to the huge living room or how much the leather squeaked under your protests.

“Don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you,” he said calmly, but his big grey eyes, so empty to observe when looking at them, watched you like a hawk. Chrollo didn’t derive any sadistic pleasure from observing your distress yet it couldn’t be said his intentions were innocent in their nature either—to him, observing a humanity he was lacking that you didn’t, was a show greater than many. It was something you could describe as finding enjoyment at your expense in the end nonetheless.

“But you already are!” you rebutted, your voice now both angry and anxious, “You think I’m not hurt by this situation already? I don’t want to be here. I want to be home.” The situation of his eyes remaining on the same hunt for your emotions made you feel patronized and frustrated with how little Chrollo took you seriously

He didn’t speak for few seconds, looking at you intensely, weighing your words. No hint of pity or sympathy you would have wanted for your comfort or hope. “And what is home to you, exactly?” he finally asked. How infuriating it was to hear, when he was trying to twist it into some psychological or philosophical conversation. You wanted for him to acknowledge your feelings, not to play with them!

“Chrollo, I don’t want to talk to you like this,” you said seriously. "I'm not a psychiatric patient."

“Answer me the question and I’ll answer one of your questions,” he proposed. Your eyes widened at the sudden deal proposal. Not that it shouldn’t be a bare minimum for him to answer questions, if they were about things that concerned you, but if he wouldn’t do it any other way than through gaining something himself first… It was your sole chance. “A-any question?” you asked hopefully.

“Any,” he responded immediately. You couldn’t believe he’d actually promise that, because the question you could ask can be the most invasive and reavaling there is possible. “But why would you want that?” you asked with suspicion. “Didn’t I say it when I had come to visit your aunt?” ‘Visit’ felt condescending and downplaying to you, considering the nature of what happened that awful night. Your aunt on the floor… you never got a chance to see if she’s truly okay afterwards, but you tried to remember what he said exactly.

“It means you are mine and you will be for a while, (Y/N),” he said intensely. “And I plan to make you understand me, and understand you as well.”

And membering it again appeared unpleasant to you. Your face frowned at the thought. You got the message though. “So you’ll answer any question about yourself because you want me to understand you. But you also make me guess everything, so why would you suddenly allow me to know something, anything as well?” you said confused, and now you look frustrated instead. Can this man be any more unpredictable?

“That’s true, but I’m doing this as unfortunately not everything can be guessed. More specific events or opinions, I don’t think even you would have guessed,” Chrollo stated with a small smile, and his fingers now played with the ends of your hair. He noticed it was getting drier upon the forceful and stressful conditions… he’ll ask someone to buy you a better conditioner than the hotel offered. “Tell me what you consider home, and I’ll answer any question, no matter what it is.”

You exhaled shakily. You could bullshit about what home meant to you, giving some pretty and warm answer, but you knew he would see through you. Or rather, he did so already—he must have noticed at some point, that your memories responsible for a process in what made the idea of home to you weren’t happy. Your entire being screamed “something happened to me so I am a bit bitter and not trusting”. What stopped you was the fact that being so vulnerable was extremely scary, not just because it’s Chrollo you are supposed to say this to, but especially because of this argument anyway. Not that your trauma wasn’t easy to speak about for any reason.

“Home to me is…” you started unsurely, and didn’t like how more intense his gaze became, as if staring inside your entire being, “…a nice fantasy, but I don’t think I’ve truly ever experienced home to be the way I’ve wanted it to be,” your voice was shaky.

“That’s rather vague. I still don’t know what home is to you, just that it’s not the way you wanted it to be,” he said bluntly, crushing your heart a little. How can he be so emotionless in the face of you baring yourself to him?

“What?” you moaned out in distress. You couldn’t take the tension anymore and decided to blurt your definition quickly, “Home should be a safe place for me but it never was. My parents, they both were terrible people, one narcissistic and other absent, so I never had that home as I had to raise myself! I didn’t get any warmth or affection so home is nonexistent to me! Are you satisfied now?!” you shouted the last part. It was a miracle you didn’t cry yet.

Chrollo’s face was painted in a small surprise, his eyes rendered more lively too, and eventually, he nodded as if considering your answer to be acceptable. Inside, he felt satisfaction from having you reveal another part of yourself. “Thank you for telling me that. Now I can tell why you’re always so honest yet insecure.”

Your mouth opened in shock, and your hand was flying straight at his face. How dare he treat your experience as something more akin to experiment than you speaking up about your trauma? Rather than caring about your feelings, he was making them to be an observation for his own enjoyment.

To which Chrollo caught your hand with ease and kissed the palm of it instead, something that to you seemed as an attempt to further patronize you. He then held your hand tightly in his, on his lap, not letting go no matter how much you tried to pull it back. His palm was bigger than yours and even more stronger, leaving yours locked in this prison.

“You’re getting so heated over this. I just find what I said to be truth… not to mock you, but to understand you.” You were getting allergic to the word ‘understand’, but Chrollo’s face truly didn’t carry any mockery; instead he rubbed his thumb against your palm soothingly, as much as he can be affectionate. “Eric” was affectionate too, but it was a play. Chrollo wasn’t faking this affection, no matter how new it was for him to be expressing it.

“I don’t want to be understood by you. That’s a shitty reason to kidnap someone for! I think you’re the last person to be able to understand me. You’re just so…” you said through gritted teeth, but your eyes were becoming teary. “Uncanny feeling?” he replied for you, saying exactly what you’d say. “See? I do understand you,” he said calmly, his face showing some eagerness for you to agree with him.

And you wouldn’t. “Predicting my next move isn’t exactly knowing or understanding me! It’s just observing repeated behavior and making conclusions, and speech isn’t that hard to guess!” you protested with passion.

Chrollo laughed quietly, shaking his head. “But I was right about honest and insecure, wasn’t I?” You fell silent. He was right and it made you naked yet resigned, having you finally relax somewhat in his hold with his arm around you. It hurt. Chrollo was hurting you but no matter what you’d do, he’d make you like a fool and say he just wants to know you. He was good at attacking your weakest points.

You moved to the next part of the deal, needing to switch the topic away from you; Chrollo was just a brute in your eyes. Expecting violence from him, instead you were given another type of cruelty.

“In any case, I answered your question. Now it’s time for me to ask you,” your voice was determined, something Chrollo liked. You were making yourself get to know him regardless of what your initial intention was. You were also so beautifully expressive and alive and not ashamed of that, again. He liked to think about your first few meetings and how you behaved back then.

“Go on, darling,” he said with a slight tease. Being called ‘darling’ so suddenly threw you off your game a lot, and you now felt both embarrassed and dreadful. He added more coil to the fire, “What? It’s not like we didn’t do worse things, did you already forget-” “Shut up!” you said, flustered; though more from anxiety. That one night you had before he had revealed his identity didn’t need to be reminded in this moment. Sleeping with your enemy, not realizing he’s one. The fact you felt good back then sounded shameful today, and abused your sense of pride.

Chrollo just wanted to throw you off your game, but you were back on track. “My question is…” you paused, not sure what you exactly wanted to ask. You had so many questions yet only one will be answered, so you had to prioritize the most crucial one. Your aunt, your future, who is Chrollo…

Chrollo tilted his head to the side, waiting for your question. His hand squeezed on yours.

“Okay…” you finally decided. “I want to ask you, why are you like this?” The surprise on his face was delicious to you, a rare moment for you to have control for once in this situation where you were defenseless, but it wasn’t a question to make because you were curious. No, you just assumed that this answer can answer many other questions you had if you are given a chance to understand him enough to read his motives; more beneficial than asking one specific question.

“I would have assumed you’d ask about your aunt or your situation, darling,” he chuckled. “Your question isn’t much specific either, but I guess mine wasn’t too, so I’ll humor you.”

Your legs tensed up, you were sitting your feet on your heels, as you waited in anticipation. You didn’t expect him to open up but you weren’t complaining—you only hoped his answer won’t be anything heavy and burdening for you to remember, as if you didn’t have enough struggle with him.

“There’s many things that can shape a person… but I guess, for me the main reason was growing up in Meteor City,” he said in thought, making you confused. You also were positively surprised he was telling you something so important. “What is that?”

Chrollo stared at you intensely, for a moment having few flashbacks from his childhood, before he spoke, “I don’t blame you for not knowing. Most people are not aware of this place’s existence and it doesn’t exist on official maps.”

Curiosity got into you. What can this place be, for it not being considered to be existing? There were so many undiscovered things on this planet, so many secrets, you wondered just how much he or hunters knew that you didn’t. Another thing to be frustrated about. Though, you were getting a general idea that something bad must have happened in Meteor City for him to mention. You didn’t interrupt, nodding as you were willing to hear him out.

Chrollo continued speaking in composed voice, “It’s a junkyard city. Thought it’s not just trash that’s dumped here—it’s people and strays too. In fact, you can leave anything here.”

Your hand tightened under his and you gasped in horror, making him smile more. Not knowing of a place like this was one thing, but to hear about its environment… you couldn’t bear the thought of people being placed on same level with trash here, disposable as much as garbage. “And you grew up here?” you asked for confirmation, trying hard to not show some sympathy. Yes, the story sounded awful and no child should have been placed in this city, and you could have guessed it shaped Chrollo a lot, but he was still a person hurting you in the end. It’s just that, a human with empathy would experience some volume involuntarily.

Chrollo nodded. He was drinking in your reaction, all fascinated about how you’re feeling about his life-him. You were forced to understand him more and more, but getting there on your own without intending to. “I grew up here. I’m not sure why I was put in Meteor City, or who my parents were, but I certainly never existed in official records. No one in Meteor City does. We’re as nameless as trash is. We are the ones to give ourselves our identities.”

“Is Chrollo just an idea then? The same way Eric was?” you muttered. His hand tightened on yours again. He liked your question, he liked you were getting close to him, he liked how insightful you were with him sometimes for those past weeks. You didn’t have a chance to speak for yourself in your childhood, but in return you have learned how to read others to make sure you’re not doing something wrong.

A skill delightful and lucky for him.

“I guess you could say that. I see myself in you more than I see it in myself,” he mused, his tone both amused and content with you. There was a lot of other things that happened in Meteor City and he wasn’t always so lost. Though it could wait. You’ll get there eventually, and maybe then you’ll agree you two make a full puzzle picture.

His body turned sideways to face you better, and he finally let go of your waist and hand yet put in up on your face instead. “You and I are not so much different,” he stated seriously. Your face scrunched under his words, not liking being compared to the mass murderer and what not (you didn’t know the full extent of his crimes). “I’m not a criminal nor a murderer,” you said with disgust. Chrollo just sighed, bit disappointed by such a black and white answer.

“Yet you still have other ways of dealing with what happened to you, not necessarily the healthiest type—” “What the hell did I even do?!” you said angrily. Surely your coping has been never on this level of debauchery.

“You speak so openly about your opinions and other things yet never about yourself. You’re just as closed as I am. But that’s not my point. You and I both have been denied of a place to call safe or grounding.”

That bastard. Your lips trembled now. Being forced to face your own trauma, the neglect, lack of care and safe environment, even some hint of sympathy towards him and people of Meteor City—you finally couldn’t handle emotions enough to leave them bottled up. “That’s not… it’s not the same anyway. At least I wasn’t living surrounded by trash. At least I went to school. At least I had food on my plate even if we struggled. I still had it better than you—”

“But it’s not only about material things, isn’t it?” Chrollo asked the most sensitive question.

In a sense, your childhood experiences were somewhat comparable. While you had parents growing up, and you had a place to stay, you never quite had a place you could have called home. It was being alone and betrayed and disappointed by everyone and neglected; regardless of what type of physical environment you were raised in.

Chrollo watched your eyelashes get wet enough to the point where the little crystals had to start falling down, like a paper towel that soaked in too much liquid and was dripping wet. He couldn’t cry easily, but it seemed you’ll cry enough for both of you. That living room suddenly felt very small, suffocating you, and Chrollo’s invading speech was swallowing you just as much.

“Yeah, I guess…” you stuttered through a sniffle, “I guess when I think about what happened in my childhood, financial struggle is the last thing that comes to my mind, even if it still existed. It’s the emotional neglect and loneliness that comes first… Items can be bought later in life, but anything else…”

You now no longer were controlling your sobs, and you didn’t reject Chrollo when he pulled you into his arms. His hand rubbed your back and he didn’t scold you for leaving snot on his chest where your face hid. He didn’t say anything, but you had a sense he did understand whether he pitied you or not. His words clearly meant that. You didn’t like being seen as someone of this level of inhumanity and cruelty, and yet, you unfortunately or fortunately had something to relate with. His chin rested on top of your head.

He didn’t know how to express or understand himself, so he looked for answers in hurting others and seeing what makes them feel more and less, depending on what he makes them go through. However, with you he didn’t need to be cruel. He needed to prod you to reveal your shame and things about yourself at best, and your history was similar plenty enough you ended up feeling for him when he couldn’t feel for himself.

When your cries were dying with your emotions being released, you felt sudden emptiness; all wiped out and forced to feel tired. Being embraced by another human, being given an affection you weren’t given much in your life, it was rather easy to fall asleep in his embrace. Working so tirelessly your entire adulthood, you didn’t even have time to make friends either. Close ones at least—since you didn’t like being vulnerable with others.

Chrollo didn’t count how much time has passed since he let you sleep against him. He only counted how many breaths you took and exhaled and how many times you snuggled closer against him. He even counted how many times his heart fluttered in a way alien to him.

Eventually, he carefully lifted you up into his arms and carried to your hotel suite’s room. A couch wasn’t most comfortable.

☆

When you woke up in your bed, it was Pakunoda sitting on it. The outside looked dark enough to be 10PM already, making you feel disoriented as hell.

Whenever you have seen Pakunoda during your forced stay with Chrollo, you felt as if her presence was most bearable among all members. You didn’t let your guard down fully though—all of them were, in the end, dangerous.

You slowly sat up on the mattress, removing the blanket from your body, feeling all hot and thirsty after the nap. Blinking away exhaustion, you looked at her silent form.

“Something’s up?” you asked, curious of her reason to be here. Perhaps it was dinner time, though late as you slept through it.

Pakunoda didn’t answer your question immediately. She pondered over her words to say for a moment, wanting to say something that has been weighing heavily on her mind lately. She wouldn’t tell you of her own jealousy, but she would tell you of her growing sense of pity towards you.

“You’ve made many mistakes, Y/N,” she said sternly.

“M-mistakes?” you asked with voice confused and nervous, but a sense of unease filled your chest. It had to be about Chrollo. Were you too careless?

“When Chrollo,” she didn’t even say ‘boss’ this time, “takes someone into his life, whether it’s a troupe member or you, he doesn’t let them go. You just gave yourself to him the moment you chose to accept him.”

“Accept him? I didn’t accept him!” you protested right away, now wide awake. How can it be said you accepted this man? He took your life when he took you, and he didn’t leave you any choice. He kept playing with you one way or another.

“You did. At least from his perspective. You certainly didn’t reject him,” she warned. “Chrollo gathers possessions by stealing, but he usually releases them by donating them to Meteor City. But it cannot be said for people. Items are just a thrill of chase, holding them isn’t as fun,” just like your aunt’s painting, “but people—he makes them loyal and they stay with him under their last breath. You are perhaps even more precious to him than any of us.” Pakunoda hid her disappointment about this.

Every word Pakunoda said, you had terror spread throughout your body. Your hand gathered the blanket, as you felt nauseous. Your ears didn’t want to hear that Chrollo might never let you go.

“H-how can I be more precious to him, when you’ve known him for years and I was here for just few weeks?” you stuttered from the nerves. Pakunoda sighed.

“Each spider is just a leg. Chrollo is the spider that is completed by the legs. But this is just Phantom Troupe Chrollo. There’s also inner him who’s always incomplete, or should I say had been that much incomplete. You must have been making him feel better recently as he seems to be in a good mood.”

“I’m supposed to be one who completes the real him then?” you sounded quite disgusted and disturbed. You (somewhat) handled understanding why he ended up doing what he’s doing, you handled feeling pity for him, you handled some comparison; but becoming the matching piece to him scared you. A man so ruthless, often cold even if still humane somewhere, one who stole not just you... you didn’t want to live with him nor become like him. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” You had no idea how else she’d be able to refer to all that.

“I didn’t need to,” Pakunoda said seriously. “I know him better than everyone. I can notice him trying to provoke you everyday, craving a reaction for something he didn’t know how he should’ve reacted to,” she sighed. Pakunoda grabbed your hand just like Chrollo did before, but hers wasn’t strangling it. She looked at you with more softness too.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” your voice trembled as you wanted to cry again. “I want my life back.”

Sadly there was no answer.

“You don’t have to have it miserable as long-“

“Don’t even suggest that,” you hissed out. You knew she was trying to tell you the easiest thing you could do is give in, because Chrollo was not letting you go.

“I’m afraid that’s the only thing left for you, besides suicide. Though I doubt you would want to actually die; that is if you would even be able to. I doubt you have many chances to kill yourself,” Pakunoda announced with a small pity. She let go of your hand and stood up, leaving the room for you to think everything through.

You didn’t stifle down your tears. You thought about your entire experience: “Eric” coming into your life, sleeping with him, him hurting your aunt and kidnapping you; now Chrollo refusing to give you any answers, dragging you from hotel to hotel, not letting you go and finally, finding out you’re probably never leaving.

You remembered his words about him saying living with him must be better than working for shitty companies, and while it’s true he has made sure you’re fed and safe, you didn’t feel any calm here. It wasn’t about what he has given you, but about what he had taken from you.

You came to the final conclusion—there’s no way you could have stayed here. You had to get out somehow, you just didn’t know how to assure safety of your aunt—

Nevermind. You weren’t getting out of there. You didn’t want to have Chrollo end up killing Cynthia in spite. Any previous attempt of escape was dumb, you realized with guilt.

Crying yourself to sleep then.

☆

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you felt something warm and heavy against you, creating a breathing sound, behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to guess it’s Chrollo, especially with the cologne you have had time to memorize. The issue was you didn’t want to be held by him. You let him do it before, but circumstances were different. You tried to get out of his grasp to no avail.

“Go back to sleep,” Chrollo said, and his voice sounded rested enough for you to know he didn’t sleep before you woke up; most likely just watched you like a creep.

“No, Chrollo, let me go!” you trashed again. Useless. “What are you even doing in my room?”

“Technically, this room is rented by me-” “Stop being so literal!” It’s always like this. You couldn’t have told if he loved being literal or was simply nothing but being manipulative.

Chrollo only sighed and gently turned you around in bed so you could face him. You gulped in discomfort when your face ended up so close to his, since you both were lying on your sides and he held you close. You both couldn’t see each other that clearly, but moonlight falling inside through the hotel tower’s windows shone enough to make out your contours.

“I’m here because I wanted to. That’s all there is to it,” his voice carried a tease, meant to rile you up a little. Chrollo’s fingers brushed your hair away from your face, his whirlpools of grey marveling in how vulnerable you looked.

Chrollo can be and is a man of control, if he chooses to. With you, he didn’t want to and he couldn’t have, neither he needed to. That why his eyes landed on your lips. He has gotten a taste of them before he took with you, not to mention he has touched your entire body. It’s been weeks he restrained himself from doing more than touches meant to be more gentle and never fully intrusive, but even he wasn’t immune to desire. Desire not even meant to be entirely sexual, mostly driven by your entire persona he forced you to show; of course you were an attractive woman to him as well. Special included, as his attraction didn’t appear without right conditions. Physicality of a woman wasn’t enough for him to get involved.

“I don’t think I can wait. Or rather, I should not have to wait any longer, my love.”

Before you had a time to react or get away, quickly having realized his intention, his lips were on yours and he had you pinned down to bed.

Your scream was muffled by his mouth. Being under him, Chrollo’s hand ran under your shirt, stroking your belly and waist. His kiss was deep and eager, not denying himself for once. Having control himself was negative in an aspect of build up needed to be released upon you. The legs that tried to kick at him, his other hand forced bend to the side and hold down with an irop grip. When you cried out again, he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

When he finally withdrew to give you time to catch your breath back and collect tears in your eyes, them most expressive than ever, he spoke in soft tone, not matching his current cruelty:

“This is just the beginning of our journey, love. Until every breath you take is mine too.”

☆

You woke up with a gasp, sitting up on the bed immediately. Same cement walls, dark wooden floors, big windows and a horrendously sized wardrobe greeted you but there was no Chrollo. It was too dark to be morning yet, but you couldn’t sleep more anyway after a nap before. To make your mood worse, there was rain and storm outside and the sound of raindrops hitting against the glass was too loud for your panicked state.

You realized it was a recursion of a dream, being forced to wake up twice, once in a dream and then in reality. Chrollo didn’t try to force himself on you, but you were still terrified by the idea your mind would have come up with such a nightmare. A meaning was rather clear to you—your own mind was telling you all the control was taken away from you, and that Chrollo wanted to absorb you entirely. The nightmare also caused for you to have new fear instilled into you, making you wonder if Chrollo would ever turn this nightmare into a reality. This paranoia or perhaps a rational and logical thought, depending on how cruel he actually was, made you nauseous from anxiety.

Kicking the duvet off of you, you stood up on your feet, wincing at the coldness of the floor.

You left the bedroom, and walking through the hallway, you ended up in the kitchen to quench your thirst. You felt unease when seeing Chrollo who happened to be here as well, and you were for a second feeling like an actual victim of what happened in the dream.

Chrollo observed you for a while, burning the image of your sleepy form into his mind. You forced your eyes shut to protect them against a bright light and you were rather adorable and vulnerable looking when you were so sleepy and grumpy in the morning. Only to make you feel pierced through with his penetrating gaze, for what that felt like thousandth time in the span of past weeks.

Facing Chrollo not only after a nightmare, but also the conversation with Pakunoda was very intense and stressful. He was now even more scary to you than usual.

“Something’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft. Chrollo hasn’t gone to sleep yet; and he has appeared in the kitchen right before you, because hearing your noises of distress in the bedroom through his walls, he knew you’d come here for water. It was a perfect occasion for him to continue his game with you.

“I just had a nightmare…” you responded quietly. Gone was your usual neurotic attitude with him, replaced by meekness caused by your fears.

Chrollo approached you and you flinched when he put his hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to mimic reassurance that he’s there for you.

“What was it about?” he inquired, massaging your shoulder. You were not ready to tell him or preferably you’ll never tell him. Not that he wouldn’t have a few guesses. Perhaps he’d even feel satisfied you thought of him in your dreams as well.

“Uh… I forgot already,” you lied, but you didn’t have enough care to worry about whether he’ll believe you. For once you didn’t want to be honest. For once dishonesty didn’t feel suffocating, even if being blunt was part of your personality. You couldn’t be vulnerable with Chrollo. You wanted to protect yourself.

Surprisingly, he didn’t question you. He simply nodded his head and said, “I see.” He then grabbed a glass and poured a water for you from the fridge, one all fancy.

You accepted the water and drank the coldness eagerly and the temperature helped you ground a little too. Chrollo watched you drink, especially your throat gulping down the liquid.

He took an empty glass from you and put in a sink, and looked at you again. “You don’t have to be alone tonight, you know.”

Your face frowned as a defensive mechanism, with you wanting to automatically say no. “You want me to sleep in same room with you?” you asked with discomfort. How could you do so after all you heard and saw in the last 24 hours? You were exhausted in way different than physical. You were worn out not even emotionally but spiritually.

“Yesterday you were sad too and yet you allowed me to comfort you,” he pointed out, but to you things were now different. You needed only few hours—the talk with Pakunoda and the nightmare—to be creeped out by his presence again.

“And? You wouldn’t give me any other choice anyway if I tried to protest,” you felt proud you came up with a perfect argument. Yes, you weren’t accepting his comfort, you were just resigned because he’d do what he wants no matter what you wanted.

However, Chrollo didn’t seem discouraged in any way. He’ll always be one argument ahead of you. “You felt safe enough to fall asleep in my arms—”

“I was exhausted!”

“Exhaustion didn’t stop you from forcing yourself to stay awake any other day,” he said calmly and you knew he won.

“I… I’m still not in a mood for this again at the moment. I just wanted some water and then I’d go back to sleep…” you argued again, but your hesitation was clear to him.

“In that case, why is your body shaking?” You stared in confusion, but when you forced yourself to focus on your body and not thoughts, you realized he was right. You were trembling and it wasn’t a chilly air in the suite as a cause. It forced you to realize the extent of how shaken up you were at this point. Your tremble became worse as now you were crying.

Chrollo didn’t say anything but he reached out for you and scooped you up into his arms. “Stop…” you said but it came out weakly. You couldn’t tell if you were just too tired to fight him or you were subconsciously craving the comfort.

As he carried you through the corridor out of the kitchen, you once again became enveloped by his warmth, strong and unshaken hold, and his perfume; though now less intense after a shower, but quality enough to stay after having his body washed.

At this point he might be conditioning you to feel relaxed by him anytime you’re distressed, with you recognized familiar sensations.

Chrollo moved you inside his room. To your surprise, it was much smaller than yours. He either wanted you to have a bigger space (how kind of him) or preferred them as a result of growing up in Meteor City. Albeit, the design of the space wasn’t much divergent from your own or the rest of the suite.

He then laid you down on his bed and placed himself next to you, before he pulled a duvet over you two, which also put you in an illusion of being trapped with him despite its warmth. Chrollo held you in his arms but mercifully enough to not do so too tightly, should you feel panicked in your sensitive and crying state.

Just like yesterday, his palmed rubbed you down your spine up and down; to your comfort without slipping under your shirt like it happened in your nightmare. All the same, the fear of him suddenly attacking and forcing you remained in your chest. Thankfully the rain was no longer pounding in your ears, but became a soothing background.

For Chrollo, he wasn’t sure how to comfort your feelings in ways other than physical. He would be able to do so with any other woman… the problem lied in the fact with them he was an actor. With you, he didn’t find a power within himself to pretend. Somehow, you were forcing an honesty out of him too.

He spoke when you finally stopped being so shaky and felt tired enough to close your eyes and fell asleep, “I really don’t want to ever let you go, Y/N.”

With these words spoken into the night and heard by Chrollo only, he knew if you were awake you’d be shaking again.

[ll7esxs]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

The first "I love you" in the relationship [requested]

characters: Logan walker, Hesh walker, Keegan russ, kick

notes: SFW content, kinda chessy for me since i love angst more than this shit but whatever man whatever this fandom wants

Logan walker:

yeah you are the first who is going to say it don't argue with me.

Logan struggles with words and would never rush into saying it.

tbh i think logan has never had partners in his life :(, he kept training not knowing anything about love.

sometimes i think hesh is the one who couraged him to date and elias too, telling him that he has been more than 30 years serving for this country and even though.

elias controlled and balanced the love and working with his mother.

It happens A late-night moment at home, when he’s quiet but seems lost in thought.

I think when you have been dating for months? like more than 8 months.

You’re curled up against Logan, watching, but he’s barely paying attention. His mind is elsewhere—probably thinking about a mission he can’t talk about.

You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He sighs closing his eyes, leaning into your touch and getting out of the blurred world he was in.

"I love you, you know that?" you said lifting your head up to look at him.

Logan freezes,oh boy even his body tensing slightly against you, you can feel that already.

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting it—even though he’s felt it for a while.

He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words but failing.

Instead of answering right away, he gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tighter than usual. After a short pause, he finally murmurs, “…I love you too.” which made you smile into his arm, you were proud of that to let this sweet boy speak of his feeling.

Later, he shows it rather than says it—staying close, kissing you, covering you in blanket when he thinks you're asleep, and making sure you’re always safe.

because words aren’t enough, but he hopes you can feel it.

Hesh walker:

he will say it first, But he blurts it out impulsively.

hesh is the one with partners but i see he had 3 or 2? and they weren't that serious they didn't reach that level with him.

but since he is a grown ass man (28) he found you

going out with him for classic dates.

It happenes in a playful moments while teasing each other.

in the kitchen, you kept arguing playfully talking back to him gahly! he thinks to himself how did i get with a woman like this.

"god you're impossible...I love you" he said with a soft shrug hands on his hips looking down smiling.

he said it without thinking, The moment he realizes what he just said, he freezes, eyebrows raising slightly like "Well… guess that’s out now."

and you had butterflies and bugs in your stomach like hello? did this handsome just tell me that??

"oh my god david?!" you said with a happy chuckle, heart already out of your chest "you just said this!!".

you wanted to step closer to him, He watches your reaction closely, trying to act all cool and confident but is secretly panicking inside.

you shaking your head while holding his face, which lead him to hold both your arms. "I love you too!"

his grin turns soft, and he pulls you in for a tight hug, whispering, "Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere."

totally forgetting about the baking yall been making out. (wtf did i just type)

Keegan russ:

bro why is it so hard to write keegan, like this man is a hella mystery.

you are the one who said it sorry, cuz Keegan is way too guarded to say it first.

why i think he thought about his job first before you like he hates it if you are involved with someone like him, what if something danger happened to you because of him?he is way too cautious.

but because of those damn eyes of yours the weakest thing he will do is keeping you with him.

how did it happenes? late night walking, this man adores these times secretly especially after he has been with ya.

i think he ended up with a talk active partner? but no that much, he is just a listener and a talker sometimes.

you like it when he talks, his creative words and the sarcasm he is using making you say unbelievable about him.

He had insisted on walking you home—not out of obligation, but because it was simply in his nature.

When you reached your doorstep, you turned, your fingers curling around the doorknob. The soft glow of the porch light cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw, the glint of something unreadable in his eyes. (lord have mercy i got too much in details)

“Well, kid," his deep voice rumbled through the quiet, rough yet familiar, "guess I’ll see you around.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips, warmth flickering in your chest at the easy finality in his tone. He turned, hands tucked into his pockets, ready to disappear into the night like he always did. (bro is batman but he never tell you that)

“Keegan?” The name left your lips before you could think twice, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make him stop.

His shoulders stiffened for the briefest moment before he turned back to you, his lightened gaze steady.

You didn’t wait any longer—you just walked up to him, arms wrapping around his neck. His eyes met yours, and God, it was so hard to be honest while looking into them. It seemed just as hard for him.

He was stunned, motionless, but his gaze remained stoic, unreadable.

“I love you,” you murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He took a moment, then let out a stiff chuckle. “Must be the champain messing with your little head.”

“Shut up. I said it… I love you.” The second time, your voice was firmer. That’s when his eyes softened, a rare smile tugging at his lips—your first time seeing him like this. Gentle.

For a long time, he doesn’t speak. The silence stretches, heavy—almost unbearable.

Then, finally, he whispers—so quiet you almost miss it.

His fingers close over yours, grip tightening as if grounding himself in the moment.

He exhales, then presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles, the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

“…I love you too.”

Then he went to the shadows of the streets and after that time, you never see him again...

im joking bye.

Kick:

Kick is always aware—sharp, cautious, both in his military work and personal life. Nothing slips past him.

He never talks about his partner. He’s a ghost, a skillful one. Never caught, never seen unless he wants to be. Have you seen the kill list? He’s needed, and yet the feds can’t find him.

He doesn’t have trust issues, not exactly—but he’s careful. Always watching, always a step ahead. Especially when it comes to his relationships.

He even hesitated to date you, afraid you’d get hurt because of his work—afraid that if anything happened, he’d never forgive himself. Not even in death.

But he went for it anyway. Because he knew how to protect you. He kept you far from enemies, tracked every possible threat—all without you even knowing. He was secretive like that.

Man fuck the enemies he thought, he is in his 30s and we live one time why don't just have a partner in ur life?.

Not even the gang knew he had a partner. Only Merrick, who one day casually let it slip in front of him—like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So he said it it just slips out casually not knowing the effect he will do on ya.

He said it during a random completely unromantic moment.

He doesn’t even realize what he said until your eyes widen. "Oh, damn. Did I just say that?"

You shrugged, still shocked. “Uhm… yeah, you did!” You shook your head, trying to process it.

He tried to play it off, acting like it was no big deal. “Well, yeah, of course I love you. Have you seen yourself?”

You couldn’t find the words. Your eyes softened as you looked at him, still stunned, heart pounding in your chest.

But when he saw you getting emotional, the act dropped. He smiled—small, genuine—and muttered, “Alright… yeah. I love you. For real.”

And later, he proved it. Small, silent acts of devotion—fixing things for you without being asked, making sure your coffee was just right, staying up just to watch you sleep peacefully.

[just-some-random-blogger]

ME TRYNA GIVE YOUR FIC ALL THE HEARTS IN THE FUCKING WORLD

WHAT THE FUCK ALLLIEEEE WHAT THE FUCK

Unfortunately I have to requote your entire fic back to you I'm so sorry

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

HOW COULD YOU START YOUR FIC LIKE THIS????? HOW COULD YOU BE SO FUNNY AND WITTY AND ENDEARING AND WELL-WRITTEN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚

“Sadist,” he hissed.

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 SO WHAT????

“Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

EAT HIM UP. ALLIE ARE YOU CONVERTING ME INTO A SIRIUS GIRLIE????? I FEAR I FEAR HIM COS GART OLDMAN WAS SO SCARY TO ME IN THE FILMS I FEAR I FEAR I FEAR THE CHILD IN ME CAN SEE HIM IN MY MINDS EYES BUT THE WOMAN IN ME IS LIKE 🤪 I LIKE SCARY MEN NOW THO?????? AHHAHAHAHAAHNSIDDNNCJDKKD

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

🗣️AND🗣️WHAT🗣️IF🗣️I🗣️AM🗣️ 👏AND👏WHAT👏IF👏I👏AM👏 PUNK ASS LOSER WHAT THEN

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

Das my ride yall

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

YOU MEAN MY HUSBAND 🤬🤬 GET IT RIGHT BLACK ITS FIRST NAME MY LAST NAME HUSBAND. YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING ALSO STOP FUCKING MOVING YOU LARVA YOU WORM

Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

[VIOLENTLY SHAKING] I NEED TO WRAP HIM LIKE A BURRITO

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

Wrong. That's my chair. My comfy beefy bed. My warm biteable pillow. You fool. You imbecile. You misguided spirit

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

😭😭😭😭😭😭🤚 IM CRYING YOU WRITE SO BEAUTIFULLY SO WELL SO AMAZING SO VIVID IM BITING YOUR BRAIN NOM NOM NOM

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

Sigh. Fine. Smash. Give me Sirius right now. I'm gonna eat him up

HO IS YOU A POET WHY YOU SPEAK LIKE THAT

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

🤞 hoping it's up

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

With my thighs????? I thought you'd never ask

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

WRONG YOU SHOULD HAVE JUMPED HIS BONES THE MOMENT YOW SAW HIM. WEAK PIECE OF SHIT 👎👎👎👎🍅🍅🍅🍅

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed.

🤨 says the witch?

“Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

The fact you didn't do this sooner is criminal

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,”

❓❓❓❓❓ REM YOU JUST MET AND YOURE CALLING HIM REMMMMMMM SKSKSKKSKJSKSJSJSJSBSHSBSBSISKKSSK 🫡🫡🫡🫡 RIZZLER I FEAR

He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

AN ANXIOUS THUNDERCLOUD IS CRAZY WHAT RHE FUCK

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space.

HES SO

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

Lick. ((I am nothing but a dog))

You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

YOU AND ME BOTH SISTER IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF ME ENCLOSURE 👹👹👹👹🤤🤤🤤🤤🫠🫠🫠🫠

Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

🫵I🫵KNOW🫵WHAT🫵YOU🫵ARE🫵SIMMMPPPPP🫵

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Sirius is also in love with me 😞 it's hard being THAT gworl 😣

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Sit on it. HUH WHO SAID THAT (me)

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫SHE GETS ME YOU TELL HIM GIRLIE RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

We love an emotionally intelligent girlie

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

I dont remember what I wanted to say but I bet it was something inappropriate 🫦

Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

🫵 SIMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPP

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

😰😰😰😰😰😨😨😨😨😳😳😳😳😃😃😃🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 SLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

We got blue's clues up in here

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

🫵 WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

Eat me then 🙄

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SHOULDNT SAY THIS YOU BUFFOON YOU ABSOLUTE CANDLESTICK YOU NINNYHAMER YOU JOBBERNOWL

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

BROTHER EUGH WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE VERY EFFECTIVE

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

FUCKING hell

Was he…jealous?

HE BETTER FUCKING BE

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

LICKING HIM SO MUCH

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

She really said

And I respect her for it. She a bsddie

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

She's so smart I love her I will shove my tongue down her throat. So hot. She is me. Holy shit am I a narcissist

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

WHAT THE FUCKING SHIT IS STOPPING YOU COS IT AINT FUCKING ME

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

I CAN BE GENTLE BUT DONT GET IT TWISTED IVE BEEN TRYNA DEVOUR YOU THE MOMENT YOU WALKED IN FUCKER 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

✍️ FOLDED✍️LIKE✍️ORIGAMI✍️ IM CRYINGGGGGGG WHAT THE FUCKKKK 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 IM GOING TO CREAM MY PANTS ON HOW GOOD IT IS

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

THE DAY I TELL YOU TO STOP THEY NEED TO PUT ME DOWN

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

🫠😃🤓🫨🤪😣😫👹 IM FINE THIS IS FINE. SHE PASSED THE TEST THAT IS THE ONLY CORRECT RESPONSE

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

IM GONNA GET PREGNANT IF YOU DONT STOP

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

I'm legally obligated to say I feel so bad for Britney I nearly use this gif but I don't like using people I don't kin as meme reactions and I love women so #freebritney

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

Little did he know I would give him 10000000000 babies. Fucking hell I need a blunt (don't smoke)

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

HES INSANE ACTUALLY OK THX

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

I WANT HIM SO BAD I WANT HIM SO BAD

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

[levihandynasty]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆𝘈𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Ship: Oluo Bozado x Petra Ral Word Count: 2242 Prompt: Person A and Person B are trying to hide their relationship, but it turns out everyone already knows. 🔐

“Stop squirming-” Petra's firm hand met with the top of his head. “It's your own fault for getting hurt, you're better than this, Oluo.” He couldn't do much more than laugh. If Petra knew that he had gotten caught up only because he worried for her in a moment of losing track of her, she would have given him the beating of his lifetime, that much he was sure of.

Her hands now laid upon his bare chest, stroking loving and caring circles over a bruise he gained not long ago. “Don't you go dying on me, Bozado. I will bring you back from the grave just to kill you myself.” Despite the smile that so beautifully painted her face, anyone who knew her would have been able to see the worry that hid underneath her stern eyes, and even more easily they would have pointed to the twitch at the corner of her lip and out her worries to whoever they desired. The way she used his name however, made Oluo feel much more scolded than cared for.

And he loved it.

“You look like a beat up apple, did you know that?” Those gentle and loving touches that Petra had offered him, soon grew a bit more malicious. “Squishy like one too.” She teased him as she pressed her finger against a swollen wound across his ribs. Then as the poor man whined, the woman's gaze would soften once more, compassion washing over her like waves at a beach. “You are an idiot, you know that, right?” She knew very well what had distracted him, what had caused him to lose control over his gear, she had seen it happen.

Good thing they weren't outside of the walls when it had happened. 

Perhaps in order to apologise for causing him unnecessary pain, Petra leant in to place a warm and caring kiss upon the other’s collarbone. She had been sitting on his lap for nearly an hour now, taking care of him, and simply spending some time with him; it wasn't often they had down-time like this. “Oh, now you're red like one too-!” Her breath was so warm against his skin, causing goosebumps to form all over him, a shivering breath escaping through his gritted teeth.

“Says you-” His hand had reached up, and between his thumb and pointer finger he would capture some of her hair, rubbing it between them as he admired the beautiful ginger color. “At least I stop being red once you stop playing with me~”

She had been about to shoot back, but as she heard footsteps coming in their direction, she had quickly pushed the stupid grinning man back, more so pushing herself up. “Eld!” Her hands were so desperately correcting her shirt as she turned to face her comrade.

“He's waiting, are you two coming?” It didn't seem the eyes of Mr. Second in command had even registered the state of the woman before him. “Is he.. okay?”

Turning back to face the man she had pushed to the ground, Petra's eyes dulled to seeing him once more squirming about beneath her. “What-” While pushing the last piece of fabric from her shirt back into her pants, she noticed exactly what the other man had seen only moments before. “Swallow it, I dare you-” That tongue of his would be the death of him, of that much she was certain.

“Okay, come here.” Grabbing him by that bruised shoulder of his, she pulled him back up and forced his mouth open to let her see. “Is it too big for your mouth, or are you just seeking my attention?” Her hands were so warm on his cheeks, gently caressing his cheekbones as she guided a thumb towards his sore tongue, running the sensitive finger over warm scarred tissue. “You'll be the death of me.” 

His drool pooled up within her palm as she held him, but she didn't mind it one bit. “There.” Leaning in, the woman placed a playful kiss on the bloody muscle. “Man up, we gotta go.. before they start getting any stupid ideas-”

They didn't leave the room together. Instead Petra who was already properly dressed took the lead and went out to locate the rest of the group. Oluo left some time later, arriving just in time to meet the others for the get-together held over warm cups of tea.

Neither Petra nor Oluo however, managed to pay much attention to what was being discussed. Sat across from each other their gazes never strayed from the other. Even through similar expressions however, their minds wandered in much different directions. One longing and caring, the other loved and content.

“Or what do you think, Oluo?” The voice that brought the man out of his hazy mind was the one of Günther. “Yeah, sure-” He had to forcefully peel his eyes off of the beauty before him. “Really, you would? The size wouldn't be a problem for ya?” Eld had added. What those two were talking about was lost on the blonde until the laughter emerged and he managed to put two and two together. “No! No I would not sleep with a - no, no matter how hot it might be!” Even she was laughing at him. As he attempted to defend himself from the friends piling up on him, she so sweetly covered her lips and hid her laughter from the men. “Levi?!” He shot his captain a look of despair, only to be met with a shrug, a scoff, and a simple phrase. “You said what you said.”

Two cups of the warm soothing liquid later, they would disband once more. Eld helping an also hurt Günther to his bed, Petra walking Oluo to where he needed to be, and Levi leaving off to do whatever it is men like him do in the dark of the night. 

“There we go-” She whispered as she pushed him down onto his mattress. “How about the next time you decide to take a crash, you leave others out of it~?” She had shot a glance in the direction of Günther. “I've never seen Eld as pissed as he looked when he saw Günther all tangled up like that..” Oluo had never before received such a passionate scolding. 

“Yeah, you're right-” The woman had looked about as he acknowledged her words to him. And before he had managed to say another word, she had glanced over to their already sleeping comrade, and swiftly moved down to interrupt whatever words were to leave Oluo's mouth. Her warm lips met with his bruised cheek, causing him to flinch a bit, and look after her all baffled as she ran off and away. 

Sleeping, she thought. The dark haired man turned towards Oluo as the flustered woman ran off, offering him a soft laugh. “You know we know, right? No reason running around like teens scared of getting caught.” Oluo had been just about to close his eyes when the words finally registered to his currently scrambled brain. “What was that?” He had asked rapidly, he thought, but the only reply he received was the soft snoring of the other.

So exciting, so liberating even! For once in her life she managed to push away her worries and greet the world with a bright smile. Sprinting down the halls of their current residence, Petra's joyful voice echoed just as loudly as her footsteps. She simply couldn't contain It! Every sneaky kiss placed on his cheek, every time she grabbed his hand a little tighter, offered him a quick squeeze before rushing off in another direction. It filled her heart with such unimaginable joy, one she had missed out on in her early teenage years, one she had missed without even knowing what it was she lacked.

Levi’s watchful eyes almost catching them as she offered that man her love. Eld, again and again walking in on them in compromising or embarrassing situations. And Günther, forever a killjoy, offering those well knowing expressions of suspicion. The excitement was almost killing her! She had no reason to hide it from them, sure they would tease the pair relentlessly, but surely they'd be met with nothing but love had they told their comrades of their relationship. Yet the payoff was too good to let go of. For how long could she keep this game going? She was certain Oluo would slip up once, out them. Just as she almost had once, when she had been about to call him hers, right in front of Erwin himself. She always imagined their commander one for the gossips, the whole branch would surely have known within the end of the day. 

She could not mess this up before Oluo did. 

Erwin might have understood, it would have come as a shock to anyone if he did not. The look he had given Petra before his attention was once more put to Levi, was however not noticed by the small woman.

Yet no gossip ever reached the ears of anyone, as far as either Petra or Oluo were aware at least.

She exhausted herself running through those long halls, thinking about what fun she would have in the days to come. More so, Petra thought about finding the time to be in his arms once more, always strong, always protective, yet somehow, always uncertain, As if he was scared of touching her.

Assuming her place in the sleeping chamber, Petra had expected to hear the heavy snoring of tired men. Instead she was met with the total of them, aside from Levi of course, sitting on Oluo's bed around a lantern. Damn fire hazard, really.

“Wait, you are trying to tell me you didn't realize?” Eld's voice was shushed, yet accusatory.

“Be nice.” Günther's voice was much kinder than the other.

“I think you guys are imagining things-” Oluo sounded like he was about to start whining like a baby. “We aren't dating.”

Adorable, she thought. Even when met with confrontation, he was standing his ground.

If only she knew.

“Did you crash into Günther so hard your brain twisted up in there?” They had attempted to convince him for a while now, and Eld was starting to look more and more distressed.

“Hm..” the priorly mentioned man took the moment to feel his body ache, remembering the fear that had struck his heart as Oluo's whole body came crashing down upon him from above.

“You guys must be made all wrong.” Oluo defended himself. “She's too good for me, you guys know that just as well as I do. I mean, I'm great!” His voice broke the status of a whisper, causing the other two to look to their side in apparent panic. It was dark over there though, Petra could not tell what hid in the darkness. “But she? She's more than great, she's..  amazing, like a goddess sent down from above.”

“You're a goddess sent down from above, crushingly so.” Günther groaned. A small smile painting his lips as he witnessed Eld choke back laughter.

“I said I'm sorry-” The goddess man from above whisper-groaned. “Got distracted.”

“We know.” This affirmation came in unison from the two others. Followed by equally synchronized nods.

“Your girlfriend-” Eld had been interrupted by yet another “We aren't dating, not my girlfriend.”

Finally the woman decided to speak up. “Oluo?” She called to him, causing all three of them to jump. “It's alright, I'm pretty sure they got us figured out, they know.” 

“Know what?” He had barely managed to finish his words before a pillow got thrown at his face, falling down upon his lap at the same speed the realization dawned upon the young woman. “You've got to be kidding me-” she whispered as she reached for yet another pillow.

The other men had already been amused when Günther realised that Oluo had been oblivious to his own relationship this whole time. The teasing and probing had started immediately. The guy really hadn't been running around hiding his relationship, no, he was as blind to it as a bat to the bright joy of the sun. Eld of course, had been far more direct in his teasing, but even then it didn't seem the younger man got it.

“You are trying to tell me-” she sounded angry. The two men who faced Oluo knew well to offer her the space needed. As she came closer, they both scooted back, not wishing to be in the path of her wrath.

She gripped her unknowing lover by the collar, her mouth open and ready to give him an earful. Instead he had interrupted her. “You.. like me?”

Above the flame, Petra grew all red, immediately letting go of.. her dumbass, and turning away.

In the silence of the room, the sound of a sleeping man finally reached their ears, and even those who knew of him were painted by surprise as they once more turned towards the darkness.

Deep within, far from the brightness of the fire, Levi sat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His breath was gentle, silent as a mouse. Even the crackling of the flame on Oluo's bed was enough to override him.

Sat on this chair, far away from where Petra would have ever thought to look for him, Levi slept with a content smile resting at the corners of his lips.

His dumbasses.

AN: @shibacosplay would like you all to imagine Oluo coming falling down as 'Ave Maria' plays in the background *in slow-motion*

[backtothedrawingboard]

New Adventure! Pt 2

Jax was dragged away into a dark cave by Caine's supposedly fun adventure. After his friends flee, they have a choice to make.

This story is a continuation of this! Enjoy!

Lee!Jax

CW: Tickle fic

TW: None

Ragatha led the way as she, Pomni, Gangle, and Kinger fled the monster. They were all shocked as their friend enemy, Jax, was pulled into the dark cave by a pair of vicious looking claws.

"Ragatha! Where are we?" Pomni called.

"I don't know!" the other woman yelled back. She screeched to a halt, causing the others to stop as well. "Ugh. Ok. Where the HECK is the exit?!"

"I think we passed the same spot three times..." Gangle mumbled.

"Yeah. And we definitely went deeper instead of further out," Pomni agreed.

The three of them bickered as Kinger stood in his usual head in the clouds position. After a few minutes of remaining silent, he interrupted.

"We should go after Jax," the chess piece said matter of factly. The others went silent and stared at him.

"Why? He's...kind of a jerk..." Gangle objected.

"But he's still our friend." It went quiet again. Kinger was...a little out of pocket at times; but he never referred to Jax as a friend. Pomni looked down and then up again.

"I think he's right...We can't just leave him here," she said to Ragatha. The doll's good eye twitched before she turned around and growled into her hands in frustration and looking back at them.

"Fine! Fine! But when he goes back to being an $!&hole, don't get mad at me!"

Ragatha stomped back to where they came from, the others following close behind...

~~~~~

Jax yelled as he was pulled further into the cave. The pitch black was very disorienting while being dragged across the stone floor. He kicked at whatever was grabbing him.

"LET GO YOU $?!&ER!" he screamed. The monster made a rumbling growl in response. Jax could feel the ground turn from hard rock to a soft moss. He squinted as he noticed a dim light ahead. With a final yank, he was dropped onto the moss. He grunted and looked up. The cavern ceiling was lit with glowing blue crystals. The rabbit blinked and realized it looked a lot like the Gloink Queen's lair, just more natural and peaceful.

As Jax remembered what dragged him here to begin with, he yelped and scrambled back. The monster stood above him on all fours, standing at a good eight or nine feet tall. Its shape was similar to that of an abstraction and it had a goofily small face compared to its size, but it had a cream color and was fluffy instead of...distorted. Jax couldn't help but be a little disturbed that Caine chose to make it look so much like an abstracted human.

"Stay away from me," he growled at the creature. It simply tilted its head and made a warble sound. It stepped closer, causing its "prey" to scramble back more. "I swear, don't you dare." He stood up quickly and moved as far away as possible. To his surprise, the monster stood passively, watching him.

Jax sighed and crossed his arms defensively. "Ok...So you're the tickle monster, huh? Not what I was expecting..." He skirted the edges of the cave, slowly making his way to the exit. The monster warbled again.

As the rabbit slowly crept along, he noticed a corner that didn't quite fit with the rest of the cavern. While the rest of it was natural rock and moss, the corner had...a piece of paper? Jax grabbed it quickly and picked it up, his eyes widening. He shoved it into his pocket and turned...to find himself face to face with the creature.

The monster pinned him down with a clawed paw, earning a terrified yell. Before he could react, it buried its face in his belly. Jax immediately squealed and kicked. The creature's bites tickled like HELL.

"&$%#! &?*%!" Jax yelled. He giggled madly and attempted to curl up. The monster just cooed playfully and continued its playful attack. "Stop! Nohohooo!"

The rabbit felt the nibbles move to his unprotected ribs. The lack of fabric covering the area caused him to squeal and flail momentarily. His arms flew to his sides.

"Nohoho! Not there! Plehehease!" He pushed desperately at the monster's head. It didn't budge an inch.

The monster nibbled along his ribs with little warbles, seeming to find his reactions amusing. Jax twisted to the side to try to knock it off, but it just followed along with his every move, causing peals of laughter from its poor victim.

"PLEASE! Pleheheeeease! Noho mohohore!" Jax cried. When the creature didn't react, he yelled out again. "You win! Stoppit!" The monster perked up, lifting its head straight up. The rabbit panted and hugged himself, curling on his side with a wide smile. "Bastard..."

The monster cooed and walked in a little circle around him. He stiffened and curled up a little more defensively and then flinched when the creature plopped itself down behind him and pulled him close as if it was holding him protectively. He sat up and tried to stand up, but it just hugged its paws around him and pulled him back down. Jax sighed.

"$!&? it..."

~~~~~

Ragatha sighed in frustration. "Where is the stupid cave! We've seen this statue three times now!" She glared up at the marble statue of Caine that stands at a fork in the maze.

"I think we need to go that way," Kinger said matter of factly. He pointed to the right.

"We've already been that way, Kinger," the doll growled. The chess piece just went ahead and walked down to the right.

"Here it is." He stood at the entrance of the cave. Ragatha's eye twitched.

"WHAT?!"

"Another one of Caine's tricks?" Gangle asked.

"Probably," Pomni answered. Kinger started into the cave, with his friends chasing after him.

"Wait!"

"No!"

"Kinger, wait!"

They all stood dumbfounded when they saw what was in the cavern. Jax was seated between the monster's front paws as it lapped at the back of his head as a big cat would its kitten. He went beet red when he saw the others.

"Not. One. Word." He tried to squirm free of the monster, only to be pulled close again. Ragatha grinned.

"Aaaawwwww! It likes you!"

"Shut up, Raggy!" He squirmed more for freedom, and yelped as it just pulled him close and nuzzled against his side. This time, Pomni giggled.

"Awww. It does like you."

"I said shut uhuhup. Stop it, !?%$it!" He squirmed and scrunched his neck as the monster nibbled at his ear. The others chuckled and watched as the rabbit tried to wriggle free while giggling. It was a nice change of pace compared to him usually pinching at their sides to get a laugh. "Help me you &!@?ers!"

Ragatha crossed her arms. "Why should we?"

"Cause it's- EEK!" He squealed as the monster nuzzled at his ribs. "MAKE IT STOHOP!"

The others continued giggling and watching as their friend enemy twists and squirms while giggling hysterically. Finally, Kinger has some sympathy and approaches.

"I'll help you out, buddy." He reached up and pet the creature's muzzle. It purred and stopped nuzzling Jax to enjoy Kinger's pets. The rabbit scurried away quickly and hopped to his feet.

"Finally..." He brushed himself off as if nothing happened.

"So how was it?" Ragatha asked with a smirk.

"Shut it."

"Guys?" Pomni interrupted. Jax and Ragatha looked over at her. "We still need to get out of here."

"I got it," Jax grumbled. He pulled the paper from his pocket. It was a map of the labyrinth. Ragatha snatched it from him and looked over it.

"Oh my gosh! How did you get this?!"

Jax rolled his eyes. "It was sitting in a corner of the place. Now can we go already?" Pomni and Gangle were already out of there. Ragatha followed close behind. Jax rolled his eyes again and dragged Kinged off the monster. "Let's go. Hurry up." The chess piece blinked and headed off after his friends. The rabbit watched them leave a second and then hesitated and looked up at the monster. He reached a hand up and patted the creature's muzzle, causing it to coo softly.

"So long, bastard..."

[sweetteaanddragons]

Lauriel

When Lauriel is growing up, she knows her older sister is a better singer than her. This is not because she's heard her sister singing all that much; her sister is fully grown and moved halfway across Aman before Lauriel is even thought of. But it is a thing people tell her of, a little awkwardly, a little gently, whenever she mentions her ambition to be a bard. Her sister is a better singer than her, and her sister is a potter. Ergo . . .

Lauriel takes up the flute. Her sister did not play the flute as a child and her rare letters don't mention it now; her sister cannot be better than her at the flute.

Her mother tells her flatly that this does not mean her sister wouldn't have been better at it, had she ever tried.

"It takes a lot of dedication to your craft to be a bard," her father says, a little more gently. "It's a very competitive field."

Left unsaid, but very much heard, is that Lauriel, of course, is far too flighty to have that sort of dedication.

It is not the first time they have had this conversation.

It is the last, because Lauriel vows to all the Valar that she won't set foot on the farm again until she's the greatest bard the Noldor have ever seen.

It does not take her long at the university in Alqualonde to learn that she is almost certainly never going to be so much as one of the best ten bards the Noldor have ever seen. This does not, however, stop people from still enjoying her music - or, for that matter, from enjoying her dancing, her conversation, her skill at the competitions that are all the rage at parties, and so she never lacks invitations to just about any event in town.

She's friends with everyone, and she hasn't written a single letter back to the farm, and she tells herself she doesn't care that none have come from there for her.

She doesn't talk to any of her friends about that.

She does talk to the woman with the tense, tight shoulders at the current party, swooping in to rescue her from the circle of jabbing fools around her; she's not sure why the other woman needs rescuing from the discussion of the night's musical entertainment, but it doesn't matter; she doesn't need to understand to recruit her to make up the numbers at Lauriel's table for cards.

Aranel is laughing when Prince Makalaure, of all people, comes by their table, which is how Lauriel learns that the woman she rescued is Prince Makalaure's wife.

He sees her flute in its case beside her and asks to hear her play.

He compliments her when she's done. Invites her to another party the next week.

Lauriel, of course, says yes.

She's never political. She's never really bothered about any of it.

But she starts to fall into his circle; their music is so passionate, so innovative, and she likes the way they circle around each other. They're dedicated to each other in a way the endless sea of her other friends aren't.

So when she hears someone being rude about his father, of course she speaks up; for all she knows Prince Feanaro is crazy, but that doesn't give anyone the right to be cruel about it.

She gets offered a job at the university in Tirion, and she thinks Makalaure recommended her for it; she finds out later he praised her skill with people as well as her music when asked for his opinion on the posting.

She finds other people start assuming she's political, even though she still doesn't much care whether they're allowed to sail back to Beleriand or not. She does care, though, about people being rude to her friends, and apparently that is political now, so political she is.

One of her friends is shocked that she's gone this long without hearing Prince Feanaro speak, so even though she still doesn't really care, she laughs and lets them drag her along to his next one.

She gets it now.

Why half of Tirion follows him and why half of Tirion thinks he's crazy.

She still doesn't really care. Even after the Incident - well, that was wrong, of course, but she doesn't see why people have to be rude to Makalaure and Aranel about it.

When the darkness comes, she goes with Feanaro's camp, of course. Almost all of Makalaure's circle does.

Partially because at least Prince Feanaro has a plan. Partially because everyone else is doing it.

Mostly because she hears Makalaure swear the Oath, and -

And her oath is not so burdensome a thing. She cannot go back to the farm; she has accepted she will never be able to go back to the farm. But she could still see her parents if they would come to her, if they would meet her elsewhere, if either she or they would ever just send a letter.

She feels it, though. Always, she feels it.

She wishes she had told him. She hadn't, ever; she hadn't known how to look at the actual greatest bard the Noldor have ever produced and admit to her adolescent ambition. But if she had swallowed her pride and told him - if he'd been warned -

She follows him.

(It is four ages later that she tells him at last; when he asks her, as they prepare to sail with Elrond, what she thinks of at last returning home.

"Oh, home's not really a place," she says in surprise. Home has been people for the past four ages of the world, and she has no intention of leaving those people now. "I suppose I'll have to wait and see if my parents choose to visit; I can't go to them unless they've moved."

This catches his attention. "Whyever not?"

"Well," she says, studiously not looking at him. "I swore an oath.")

(It is midnight when Elrond finds a furious Maglor correcting a beleaguered Lauriel's pitch in the garden.

"Are you planning on making our plea to the Valar for your brothers in the form of a concert?" he asks in bemusement. There is precedent, he supposes, with Luthien, but he would have thought Lauriel would have had more patience with the fevered practice if it were the case.

"It is no true teacher who cannot guide a student to surpassing himself," Maglor says grimly. "And it is no true prince who does not return loyalty. Lauriel will be the greatest bard the Noldor have ever produced."

"I don't want to be," she says in some desperation. "I really don't. I don't care if I can't go back to the farm."

"You should have the option," Maglor says firmly. "Now try again.")

[tearfest]

ㅤㅤ" mhm, of course you are. but i will be, too — so you won't be able to use it to impress me. " but he was impressing her in other ways, regardless. he was easy to talk to, as if they'd met before, maybe in another life. it was annoying, how much she liked him already, having already spent the majority of the first day trying to avoid interactions; thought that it was best not to get too invested in anyone there, or the guilt would only eat away at her more if they were eliminated. and, yet, here she was, tucked into trent's side, cuddled up to him like a lover. her index finger was idly tracing a heart when he spoke, cheeks reddened as a smile blossomed at the rumble of his chest beneath her. " no, no fucking and dumping. it'd make the rest of the games real awkward, don't you think? "

ㅤㅤher fingers stopped their tracing to rest flat under his, making her eyes fall atop of their hands to admire the size difference. and, just like that, danbi was officially drenched. cotton panties were thin, and sticky, but luckily her mandated sweats were thick enough to keep her secret. warm hazel hues lift up to his ever so briefly, swallowing thickly as thighs subconsciously squeezed around his as he spoke — words going to one place and one place only. " oh, because he'd loooove to listen to that. '안녕, 자기야. sorry for disappearing, but i met a man — a real man, and he fucked me like one would. shall i tell you how, baby?' mmm, that'd go down a treat. " but she's smiling. " but what would you do to me? if you were to hypothetically wreck my home. " she didn't have a home for him to wreck, but he could ruin something else... her voice had fallen quiet, with a soft and unintentionally sensual tone as he pressed her closer — clothed cunt momentarily grinding against him before she stopped her hips and stayed still, frozen in place. now she was embarrassed. but her gaze lowered then, trailing down and along with their hands as she felt the expanse of his toned torso beneath her warm palm.

ㅤㅤit was already enough to silently drive her crazy, but then her fingertips brushed over the waistband of his sweats, and she could feel how he more than filled her hand. and he wasn't even fully hard yet, just twitching. she just rests her hand there at first, aware that their placement on his top bunk kept them out of view from most, but they weren't hidden. and there were the cameras, keeping them under constant surveillance. she figured it was to break up any violence, or riots, and not to cockblock her. she laughed a small, breathy laugh at the comment about missing her husband, shoulders shaking a little. " your wife will be a very lucky woman. constantly getting roughed up by you... " palm squeezed at his bulge then, gaze still on his crotch as her hand slipped up an inch or two, enough to slide her fingers beneath the waistband of his sweats, but over the fabric of his boxers, with a long, blissful sigh. " but i bet you know how to make love, too. "

ㅤㅤshe was losing her mind. she was never usually this bold, this rash, and she couldn't tell whether she should blame the adrenaline from today, or trent. her hand rests idly against him as she listened to him, cheeks brushing against his chest, just over where his heart beats, so that she could angle her face to finally look up at him. even from this angle, with his head resting back, chin tilted back and his adam's apple accentuated, even then he looked handsome. she imagined it was a similar angle to if she was to crawl down the bunk and give him head. " horses? i can totally imagine you riding a horse, now you've mentioned it. i bet you even have the cowboy hat and a lasso, right? i used to ride, but then i moved to the beach. " her body adjusted slightly whilst she spoke, inching further up so that she could rest her head against his shoulder; levelling their eyes as her leg wrapped around his abdomen and her hand slipped out of his sweats. blinks at his question, head briefly lifting to look over her shoulder — scanning the room to make sure no one on the other bunks was watching before falling back into the crook of his neck. " do you mean the games, or us trying not to fuck? because it's probably both. "

“Chillll, I’m gonna be rollin’ in it in what, a week?” The back and forth was easy, eyes glinting with amusement. Her gaze is unrelenting, steady in comparison to the way his flickers like a loose bulb, a pinball reaching for the high score, unable to stay in one place for very long. Why he’s here is long and convoluted and not particularly interesting, whittled down to debt, just like everyone else. The corners of his mouth twitch at the way she says his name, starker when she says it, his named singled out from the rest of the words in the sentence. Wants to make her say it again, thumb drawing over the nocks of her ribs, a comforting thing if his intent was pure, which it is, because he doesn’t really think wanting to hook up with her is any sort of sin, especially after today. “‘Cos I ain’t. You disappointed? Want me to fuck and dump?” He could, be anything she wants. 

Trent has a considering look on his face even though he’s a little dazed, the way her body moves on it’s own accord, and he feels lit up inside, gaze skimmed over the wetted glint of her lips. He thinks it’s obvious, because he’s never been subtle, with the desperation that is, a different strain of the same feeling that has him in the company of half the people here probably. “Like I said, I ain’t no homewrecker. I respect what you and your very real husband’s got goin’ on.” He starts, and his free hand settles atop of hers that's on his chest, like a comforting gesture during a difficult time. Like the fake husband might actually appreciate the solace Trent was dutifully doling. Not that anyone’s innocent when his leg’s slotted between her thighs with a flitting thought that wanders if she could get off rubbing her pussy against him, humping at it like a dog in heat. “But I am concerned that he ain’t fuckin’ you right. Don’t think that’s fair for you. If I fucked you really good, when you get out you could go back to him and say, ‘I met a man named Trent,’” Lips quirked, pronouncing his name how she had, both T’s sharp, “‘An’ I want you to do what he did to me.’ Him bein’ 5’8” don’t mean he can’t rough you up a little bit, if that’s what you’re into.” 

Trent’s not being rough at all, far from it. His hand slinks down to push at the small of her back, urging her closer. His other hand, flat on hers, slides hers down, over the muscle of his abdomen, over the hem of his tracksuit jacket, over the hem of his sweats, resting on his dick, and she can probably feel it getting harder beneath her palm. Her hand’s tiny, most of the weight coming from his own palm. He’s not really looking to pop a boner, at least not 'til lights out but he’s not thinking at all right now. “My bad, probably makes you miss your husband.” Still, he doesn’t make any effort to move either of their hands away. His head lolls back, flat against the pillow again, eyes closed as he breathes out, “You talkin’ makes me wanna get wife’d up. Just bein’ able to fuck her whenever.” Which is probably why he doesn’t have a wife. 

He’s warm to the touch, pleasant mostly, the same way the first drink after a long day on an empty stomach hits. Feels the effects of her gaze, on his cheeks, in the burn at the back of his throat, a hand clenched around his heart. Among other things, he wants to kiss her. That’s why he’s not looking at her. Weird because he thinks that might feel more wrong than if he were to slip his hand down the front of her sweats, pulling her panties aside and shoving a few fingers in her. “Mm, I’m a cowboy. Rodeos and that kinda shit. Dependin’ on how bad this all fucks me up I might settle though. Big farm. Lots of horses. I really love horses.” He takes a neutralizing breath, remembering when they were corralled outside, still teeming with nervous curiosity, eyes squinted against blue skies. How nice being outside had been. There’s a sigh of relief, one he didn’t know had been pent-up, in that moment settled with the realization that if she keeps playing, so will he. Why not. “D’you think there are people watching us? Getting off on it?”