#i want more of raven and her mom

[alexandriaellisart]

mother's daughter

[dollfat]

giving into the [outlander] peer pressure and deciding opal moved to the city after leaving the wilderness. probably around age 13.

her and her mom took whatever shitty jobs they could, usually physically demanding and not always legal. neither were especially good at socializing and opal was overwhelmed by all the people and noise. she still thinks of the Outlands as her home.

[explorevenus]

my soul to keep ♡ vampire!leon kennedy x virgin!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 6.4k

tags/warnings: romantic vampire leon, virgin/innocent f!reader, leon turns reader into a vampire, some religious allegory, bloodplay (obviously), gravedigging, some gory descriptions but not a whole lot, one instance of overeating (reader's learning, leave her alone </3), manipulation kinda, praise, fingering, p in v, creampie

description: leon creeps into your village at night for a quick drink, only to find himself infatuated with an angel like you. it's a good thing he possesses the means to preserve you for himself.

a/n: yes this is the vampire leon fic i started like a year ago don't look at me <33 i'm just proud of myself for getting it finished before halloween this year AAAAAAAA

divider by @saradika-graphics !!!!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

The last time Leon remembered feeling this alive, well… he was still living, and that was a long time ago. When lonely and undead as long as Leon has been, it can be difficult to show restraint upon first contact with anything that evokes such emotion. 

But he did, for a while. You were just too cute, he thought as he stood over your slumbering body that first night. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, but a light hunting season for him meant starvation through the winter, and he didn’t have much choice but to go wandering into the nearby little village for a quick bite to eat. 

Until he found you. 

You looked like a cherub sleeping there in your plush little bed, buried beneath a quilt he could only assume you made yourself. Precious, fragile. You looked especially fragile. 

And humans are so fragile, he thought. You smelled so sweet, it made his teeth ache just standing there staring at you without acting upon his festering need to sate his appetite, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to scare you, or worse, lose control of himself and kill you. 

He wandered silently around your little cottage in hopes of learning more about you. It was tidy but lived in, well-kept in a way that made him think you were probably a good homemaker. Your old leather boots sat by the door, dirtied by years of garden work and general wear. There was a little handmade ceramic candle holder on your bedside table, the candle in it burned nearly down to the base, and he wondered if maybe you’d held onto it because the piece was sentimental to you. Carefully arranged bouquets of flowers were strung together and hung up above the cracked window, likely to dry them out and preserve them. 

And suddenly he realized that maybe he would like to preserve a flower for himself. 

He couldn’t allow himself to feed from anyone in your village that night. If word spread around about a vicious animal attack or some other form of brutality, it would only hinder his ability to ultimately get to you, and he couldn’t risk that. Weak and delirious and ravenously hungry as he was, Leon forced himself to bid you adieu and stalk off into the night, back to his crumbling old castle in the middle of the woods… but not before leaving you a gift. 

His gift. The gift.

Your lips parted in a dreamy sigh as you slept, rolling over onto your back. He admired your face for a moment before he couldn’t take it anymore— if he didn’t leave now, you were going to become dinner, and he couldn’t have that. Hastily, he bit down on the meat of his palm and squeezed, watching as his old crimson blood bubbled up to the surface, and then he held it up over you.

Drip. Right between your rosy, plush lips. Even in your slumber your face scrunched up at the foreign taste, your heavy arm coming up to swipe at yourself like you were just trying to get your hair out of your eyes.

And just like that, he was gone, having taken his leave through the very same open window that gave him the idea. 

He wasn’t a monster, of course. He kept an eye on you as you experienced the very same pain he felt decades ago. 

The next day, you woke up later than usual feeling quite lousy. Your whole body was sore and weighty and, reasonably enough, you chalked it up to poor form while tending your garden the day before. It was an easy mistake to make from time to time, after all. But as the day dragged on, you only felt worse, so you retired to bed right after supper that evening. 

The day after that, you woke up in the early afternoon feeling awful. Your head was screaming with a migraine and your heart was beating slow and hard in your chest. You were sweating and shaking and could barely even open your eyes because the light hurt so bad. A friend stopped in to check on you after noticing how late of a start to the day you were getting, and almost as soon as she stepped in the door, she was rushing back out to the apothecary, begging the village healer to come check on you. 

The village healer loaded you up with tricks and tinctures and anything she could think of to break your fever or at least ease your pain. Dried herbs and poppyseeds and fungus ground up in the mortar and pestle, the paste slathered under your nose, on the bottoms of your feet, steeped into tea that was too hot for you to drink. None of it worked. At a loss for advice to give, the village healer urged you to drink plenty of water and rest, and to quarantine yourself. Couldn’t risk passing whatever you had to the rest of the community. 

You woke up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night and didn’t even have time to throw your quilt aside as you doubled over the side of your bed and vomited. This continued for a few moments until you could barely breathe, tears dripping from your eyes as your face reddened with strain and you inwardly resented yourself, knowing you would have to drag your sick body out of bed to clean up the mess you’d just made. You struck a match and lit the candle at your bedside and hesitantly peered down to survey the damage, only to be met with the image of your beautiful wooden floors drenched in blood. Reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand yielded the same result. 

As you stared at your own blood in horror, Leon stared at you in adoration from the other side of the window. For a moment your bleary eyes caught on the glass and he wondered if you saw him, but if you did, you didn’t react. 

Even at a distance he could hear your heartbeat continuing to weaken. Soon enough you would be just like him, a beautiful preserved flower, and better yet, you couldn’t be harmed. You wouldn’t change, you wouldn’t grow, you wouldn’t die.

Although your village certainly thought you did. It was a dreary, overcast day when the village healer decided to stop in and check on you, only to find you completely lifeless and splattered with blood where you laid. She had to be the one to break it to your family that you had lost your battle with whatever illness plagued you. Leon watched from the shadows as your father lifted your limp, blood-soaked body from your bed and held you close, sobbing, hesitating to admit to himself that you were gone.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun went down and the drizzling rain refused to let up, the entire village was standing over your grave, watching you get lowered into the soft, soggy ground. 

Once everyone had paid their respects, Leon watched them all retreat to share a drink in your honor, hushed whispers revealing just how unsettled everyone was by your untimely demise. You were so young, they said, so bright and healthy and undeserving of your fate. They wondered what it meant for themselves, and only Leon knew it didn’t mean anything at all. Your illness wasn’t going to spread because he had what he wanted now, and that was you. 

As soon as the final candle was blown out for the night, Leon took a shovel from your garden and began to dig, the metal piercing easily through the soaked earth until it revealed the handmade box you’d been laid to rest in. He popped the top off and looked at you, your arms still crossed delicately over your chest with a beaded rosary tucked beneath your palms, a pale flower in your hair. Your family didn’t need to know they’d be spending the rest of their lives praying over an empty coffin in the ground. 

Leon scooped you up into his arms, cleaned up after himself and set off into the woods with you clutched to his chest like a princess.

It was a few days before you finally roused. Leon had barely taken his eyes off of you the entire time you slept, and admittedly, he was a bit grateful it had taken you so long, for your own sake. He watched over you and cared for you as the last of your body heat drained out and your fangs descended behind your lips. From what he remembered, that was the most painful part of the transformation, and you were lucky to have slept through the worst of it. 

When your eyes finally shot open, he could barely contain his excitement. In one swift movement you sat up on the couch, bringing one hand up to clutch at your pounding head, the other massaging your sore jaw as your worried eyes darted around the room to drink in your surroundings. Then and only then did your gaze finally land on Leon. 

The fright and confusion on your face were evident. He knew you would have a lot of questions, and he was prepared to answer them. 

“There you are, darling,” he greeted you warmly, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. “How are you feeling?”

"W-Where am I?" You rasped, throat sore and shot from vomiting up blood the other day. Once your new condition fully set in, you would heal, but for now you were still a touch miserable. "Who are you?"

“I’m Leon,” he was gentle in introducing himself, taking your cold, shaking hand in his own so he could brush a polite kiss over your knuckles, “and this is your new home.” 

You blinked slowly at him, brows furrowed as you mulled over what he meant, and you came up short. Tears welled up in your bloodshot eyes and you hesitated for a moment before asking him a question you were afraid to know the answer to; “Am I… Did I die?” 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that at first. He imagined that question being posed much later in the conversation, so it sort of caught him off guard. He took a breath and then replied gently, “Something like that, yes.” 

“Huh?” 

“Shh, don’t worry,” he whispered, kneeling on the floor beside the couch so he could get on your level, his cold, pale fingers tracing gently over your lifeless skin. “You’re safe, your family is safe, your village is safe. I’m just here to take care of you, my beloved, to guide you in this tricky space between life and death. Do you trust me?” 

Strangely enough, you did-- or, rather, you felt compelled to. 

But that didn’t make the implications of your condition any easier on you. You were such a frightened little lamb, your cheeks hollowing and your eyes glowing like rubies and your skin tone taking on more and more of a pallid quality by the day as you refused to feed. He knew you would have some difficulty with this at first— after all, you were just far too sweet to kill anything— but he also knew you would only become weaker and more agitated if you continued to starve, and perhaps more grim, you would remain stuck in this odd limbo between death and vampirism. 

He tried everything he could think of. You wouldn’t drink animal blood, from the body or in a glass, and you certainly refused human blood in either form too. Every time he broached the topic of sating your hunger you would cower away from him and shake your head, eyes screwed shut as you continued to deny the reality of your situation. Starvation brought forth only misery, that much Leon knew, misery and longing and weakness and worse, everything he didn’t want for you. 

For two weeks you pushed back on the topic, insisting that if you couldn’t truly die, you would rather starve than take the life of another. As much as it pained him to see you this way, Leon appreciated that you could be so stubborn about your morals. He just wished it wouldn’t come at the cost of your own well-being.

He left you at the castle one night to go hunting himself. It wasn’t often he’d stumble into humans in these woods, especially during the winter, but he hoped he would get lucky for himself anyway. Leon burned a few hours stalking through the trees and all he had to show for it when he returned home was a few small animals that wouldn't last him more than two light meals, but it was better than nothing, he thought.

Then he stepped through the creaking castle doors and his nose perked up to the familiar rich scent of human blood-- thick and heady in the air, cloyingly sweet and indulgent. Intoxicated by it for the moment, it didn’t really dawn on him immediately what that meant… until he followed the scent from the foyer to the living room and found you. 

You were on your knees in front of the fireplace, hunched over the writhing body of the village healer, her eyes wide and glassy as she choked out gurgled sounds of agony and clawed weakly at you to let her go. You didn’t even seem to notice Leon as he entered the room, a concerned grimace on his face, though it was accompanied by a tangible sense of relief that you were finally feeding. 

“Sweetheart,” he said lowly, causing you to blink with confusion and look up at him through your lashes, the poor village healer’s carotid still clenched tightly between your teeth. “Easy now, you’ll make yourself sick.” 

Your brows furrowed and you bit down a little bit harder, siphoning out a few final greedy gulps from the woman before dropping her from your grasp, your eyes still trained on Leon as her weak body flopped limply to the floor. His eyes softened with empathy as he looked you over, gore dribbling down your chin and the front of your white dress, your stomach puffy like an engorged tick. Now that you weren’t feeding anymore it would seem you made the same realization he had, the fog of desire clearing in your brain to make room for the shame and discomfort. With a soft whimper, you reached for him with both arms outstretched, but otherwise didn’t move. 

Leon gave you a nod of understanding before scooping you up into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he carried you out of the parlor. “My poor baby,” he sighed softly, “It gets easier, I promise. I’m so proud of you.” 

He ran a hot bath for you and left you to soak for a while as he got to work cleaning up the mess you’d made. The village healer was barely clinging to what remained of her life, and while he was extremely tempted to nurse her back to health and keep her around to continue feeding on, he knew it would hurt you. He could already tell you hated yourself for victimizing her in the first place, the very same woman who’d tried so hard to save your life just weeks ago and who was responsible for ensuring the health of the entire village, which included your friends and family. 

So he mopped up the blood, bottled what he could and wrapped her wounds to the best of his ability before compelling her to forget, dumping her just at the edge of the trees outside the village so someone would find her in the morning.

When he returned again, tired and dirtied from hauling an unconscious woman through the woods on your behalf, you were still relaxing in the tub. The water was tinted pink from all the blood and you still looked a bit swollen in the middle, but the color was returning to your skin and the expression on your face was one of such complete exhaustion that he wasn’t sure if you were actually conscious at first, until your gaze fluttered up to meet his. 

Leon let out a deep, sweet sigh, sitting on the bench beside the porcelain clawfoot bath as he took your hand in his and whispered, “What am I going to do with you, huh?” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you said just as quietly, bottom lip quivering as you continued to drift back down from your blood-induced daze. “I d-didn’t want to h-hurt her…” 

“Shh, shh, I know, darling,” his other hand came forward to pet gently through your wet hair. “She’s going to be alright, I made sure of that. But this can’t happen again, okay? I’ll help you get control of your urges, I promise, but you have to listen to me.” 

You were nodding along as he spoke, clutching his hand and shivering in the hot bath. Even transformed you were still fragile. Leon wanted nothing more than to care for you like the fine china you were.

It was fun watching you learn how to walk, so to speak. You were like a baby deer, taking careful steps and looking back at him for reassurance after each one, like his guidance was all you could think to cling to. While your gingerly approach to things was incredibly endearing, he loved watching you grow to love your new abilities with an innocent sense of excitement that he hadn’t seen in a long time, not in himself or in anyone else, really. 

You’d taken to exploring the rafters and the view of things from the ceiling, leaving the candles in your room unlit all night just so you could bask in how odd and cool it felt to see so well in the dark. It scared the moonlight out of him every time, when he would scour every inch of the castle in search of you just to find you perched criss-cross on the ceiling, lost in a lengthy novel in a pitch black room. 

But he would never scold you, never tell you ‘no.’ In his mind that was a very important lesson for you to learn, one that would open you up to endless possibilities and happiness in an otherwise bleak state of consciousness. 

So, when your small voice chimed in from the parlor ceiling one night and startled him more than he’d like to admit, and you asked him a deceptively simple question– “What now?”-- he knew exactly how he wanted to respond. 

“Indulge,” he said just as simply, sitting calmly down on the chaise lounge to look up at you, hanging from the rafters by your knees. “Let me ask you this. What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?”

You took pause, humming in thought for a moment. All your life you were never much of a forward thinker because you didn't really have to be. You lived your little old life moment by moment, taking extra special care to appreciate the here and now. You had good friends, a loving family, a beautiful community, food on your plate and a warm bed to return home to every night. That didn’t leave you wanting for much.

Finally, you spoke shyly, "I guess I always wanted to fall in love."

It was so quiet, if he was still human, he wouldn’t have heard you. But he wasn’t, and he did. The corner of his lip tugged up into an endeared and somewhat amused expression, baring the sharp edge of his right canine. 

Leon adjusted his posture, sinking back into the couch to gaze up at you, trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking between your legs where your upside-down position left your skirt flipped up nearly to your waist. He cleared his throat softly and cooed, “You poor thing, you’ve never loved before?” 

Your face burned and you avoided his eyes, stretching your arms out toward the floor just to give yourself something to do. “N-No,” you began, smoothing your skirt out over your thighs just to watch it ride up again. With a short huff of breath you pulled yourself back up into a normal sitting position on the rafters, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just never had the chance.” 

“What, not enough fish in your little pond?” He teased, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

You laughed, appreciating the way he eased the tension, but he wasn’t exactly wrong. “I mean, yeah, the dating pool made for a better puddle.” 

“I figured as much.” 

A comfortable silence blanketed over the parlor, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fireplace. You swung your feet idly back and forth, watching the warm flame as you asked aloud, “So… What does it feel like, then?” 

“What does what feel like?” He responded, but he knew what you meant. He just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Y’know…” You kicked your frilly socked feet, “Love?” 

“Well, sweetheart, that’s quite a broad question,” Leon began, patting the space next to him in an attempt to beckon you down from the rafters, and to his delight, the gesture succeeded. You dropped gracefully to the ground and fixed your skirt before curling up beside him on the other side of the couch, your legs tucked up beneath you. You couldn’t possibly be more adorable if you tried.

As you situated yourself at his side, he continued, “There are many different kinds of love. You love your family, and you love your friends, but you don’t love your family in the same way you love your friends, and vice versa. Correct?"

He watched your expression for a moment to ensure you were following along, and surely enough, you were. Your posture was relaxed but you remained dutifully at attention, just like a good little doll should.

Leon felt a pang of pride when you nodded.

“It’s the same thing, just a different kind of love. I’m not sure I know how to describe it, really,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your knee casually. “But I could show you?” 

“Show me?” Your head tilted with that innocent curiosity he loved so much about you, and his heart melted all over again. “Show me how?” 

He said something lowly and it took you a second to register it because right after, he took your chin in his hand and drew you in for a kiss. Only after your lips collided did your brain recognize his words as, ‘Like this.��� 

With one hand cradling the back of your head and the other still tracing little shapes on your leg, Leon’s embrace felt all-consuming and overwhelmingly safe. Through it all, you really did trust him. Your fangs knocked together as he pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, making your head spin and your brows furrow in concentration. It felt incredible, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, but the nerves kept you tense and you couldn’t help but fear you were doing a poor job. 

So you let him lead. You resigned yourself to the feeling of his cold lips on your own and his tongue exploring your waiting mouth, his broad hands keeping you pressed against him and feeling slowly up the length of your thigh. His touch made you shiver and tingle in unfamiliar but exhilarating ways and when he eventually pulled away, you were left panting for breath and wanting for more. 

He watched your face in an attempt to gauge how you were feeling, and it was evident you enjoyed it. Leon felt a rush knowing he had effectively just turned a new leaf in your training. 

You had finally learned to walk. Now it was time for you to sprint. 

Leon brushed your hair away from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. He’d waited so long for this moment, for the chance to sink his teeth into you. He wished he could have tasted you fresh, when you were still living, but he would settle for the alternative, and truthfully, it didn't even feel like settling. Especially not when your syrupy sweet blood hit his tongue and pulled a deep, guttural moan from the core of him, his pearlescent eyes rolling back in a display of momentarily mindless rapture. It was unexpectedly hot to see him react to you in such a way. No one had ever expressed such intense need for you, and you were so hung up on it that you barely noticed your thighs subtly shifting together.

But Leon was observant as ever, of course, the movement in no way making it past his keen attention-- you were too precious, too virginal for your own good. He wanted to ruin you, he wanted to tear you apart piece by piece and savor you like holy communion, to pump your undead heart with his own two hands until the end of time, his beautiful baby, his fragile little doll, his corpse bride, his darling and beloved consort.

You were both gasping for breath as he pulled away from your throat, remnants of your tart cherry blood smudged around his pallid lips. Blessed be the gift of undeath, Leon thought to himself, for it granted him the ability to feed from you without consequence-- and vice versa-- to strengthen your bond in the most intimate way imaginable time and time and time again. It still made you dizzy, of course, light and a bit tingly all over, but Leon didn't see that as a bad thing, and as it stood, you didn't seem to either. 

He was just trying to come up with a smooth way to tempt you into tasting his own blood, but found himself pleasantly surprised by your initiative. 

"Can I try?" You practically purred, your sweet voice all hushed and breathy as your dainty little hand crept up his shoulder, palm coming to rest at the leftmost side of his strong neck. 

As you caressed the pad of your thumb over the icy expanse of his skin, you couldn't help but notice the faint, scarred over marks that were dotted about, barely-there dips and craters telling a story that suggested decades of indulgence like this, decades of past lovers, and your heart inexplicably clenched in your chest. Suddenly you were overtaken with the desire to leave your own mark there, much more prominent and recent than any of those faded old others. 

Leon was quick to give you his consent, of course, and that was all it took for your mind to snap into a completely different mode of function. The highest points of your mouth were flooding with saliva and the lowest points were pooling with it, slicking your puffy lips as your tongue fell forward to drag a deep, wanton lick up the length of his cold carotid. Then, as anticipated, you helped yourself to a healthy bite of him. 

And just like that, you had discovered a new infatuation, as he knew you would. You were bonding yourselves to one another in real time, creating a connection that not even true death could break. 

You nearly went weak with how overwhelming it felt, like drinking down pure heaven, hardly even noticing you were moving for a moment as you crawled mindlessly into his lap to straddle him, grinding deep and slow. The pheromones in his sap made your head spin, bringing about the kind of spontaneous sensuality that you'd only ever felt after one too many glasses of mead, the kind that loosened your bones and tinged at your cheeks, the kind that called warmth to bloom at the pit of your stomach. 

The flavor of him was coppery and rich, but balanced, a bit dull from undeath but otherwise magnificent. That it was faint only made you want for more. 

"Easy, easy," Leon grunted quietly in your ear, reaching a hand up to card through your hair at the back of your head. "Don't drink too fast, little princess... just breathe..."

But it would seem you weren't really listening to him, and that needed to change. Thankfully, Leon knew just the way to grasp your attention. 

Letting one arm slip between your two bodies, he wedged his hand down, down, down, until it dipped beneath your skirt to close his palm over the sticky cotton of your panties. That you were already leaking through the fabric like a busted faucet was perfect. You were an absolutely perfect little untouched virgin, and thanks to him, your body would remain that way forever, ripe for his plucking.

Bringing down some pressure on your clit with the base of his palm, testing your reaction, he reveled in the way you whimpered on his throat and unlatched to finally suck in a breath, rutting to meet his attention without a second thought, so easily captivated by such slight stimulation. He couldn't wait to show you more, but he'd need to work you open first. He didn't want your first time to be painful, after all. 

Leon took you at the waist and moved to put you on your back, hovering above your spread out form on the chaise lounge and pinning you there in the most delicate way possible. Every bit of that attention to detail paid off. 

"My precious doll... my most delicate princess," he sighed reverently, stooping low to breathe you in at the neck again, laving his tongue over the bite he'd left just moments ago. "This is what true love feels like, and I wish to share it with you for eternity..." 

He let you ponder that as he continued, working you carefully out of your clothes, finding it cute how you seemed to shift and arch along with him to help him get you naked, like you just couldn't wait. In your pretty doe eyes, your undead life had just begun. 

It was a bit strange at first, feeling his finger sink into you, but it wasn't long before Leon was seeking out your soft spots and doing an excellent job of it, no less. He curled and pumped one finger carefully in you until he was sure you were comfortable, until he felt any remaining tension in your muscles melt away, and then he introduced a second. You were so wet and so absorbed by the feeling of it all that you almost didn't notice at first, but that delicious stretch was impossible to miss. 

"O-Oh," you quivered, head falling back against the plush velvet beneath you as you bucked into his hand. 

With an appreciative hum, Leon allowed himself to become a little less careful with his ministrations, watching your reactions with interest as he worked you open on his fingers, his infatuation with you growing more and more with every moan and whine, every flutter of your silky walls. 

"There you go, little one," he cooed, "you like that, don't you?"

Your response was barely more than an airy nod, but it delighted him anyway. How could it not? You were just too sweet for words, too cute to handle. You could've done or said anything in that moment and he would have adored it all the same. 

Nipping playfully at your throat, fingers still pumping dutifully in and out of your drippy cunt, his lips trailed up to your ear so he could ask in a sultry whisper, "Think you can take more?"

The next several seconds were a blur of impassioned movement, each of you weaving around one another to shed the elder vampire of his own ensemble, revealing his carved marble frame piece-by-piece. You were amazed by the strength in his shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin was from being kept away from the sun for so long, the dark blonde trail of hair that disappeared below his belt, only for its path to be revealed upon the long-awaited removal of his trousers. 

Leon's cock was painfully hard, tip flushed red and weeping with milky beads of precum as he freed himself from his confines at last. He felt the intense need to give it a few strokes with how pent up he was at this point, but he didn't see a point in wasting any time pleasuring himself when you were right there, skirt hiked up to your waist while you laid there panting and leaking your arousal all over his nice furniture. With a pout that pretty, it would be a disservice not to fuck you until you cried. 

He angled your hips with one hand and lined himself up with the other, pushing in slowly. Your expression screwed tight for a short moment as the swollen head of him caught at your hole, an opportune moment of distraction for him to sink in deeper, stretching you out until he hit the root, drawing a shocked cry from your throat that gave way to a pleasured whine just as quickly as it came. 

So he began to move, wanting to draw out that gorgeous sound for as long as you would allow him to hear it. Your cunt was so fucking tight, pulsing and squeezing around his shaft like you were made for it, made for him, delivered to him by fate so that he might just get to fuck you like this forever and ever, and in that moment, he knew he made the right choice in sharing his gift with you. For the first time in recent memory, the future felt bright. 

"L... L-Leon..." You babbled, hooking one leg over his hip for purchase just to find out it allowed him to prod that much deeper. You went boneless at the feeling, finding strength only in your ability to claw at his shoulders for dear life, the faint scent of his blood lingering in the air and making your head spin. "Feels... g-good... so good... don't stop..." 

He wouldn't dream of it. 

Fingertips printing into your thighs, he pulled your legs up to rest over his shoulders instead, driving you down into the soft couch in a firm mating press. You were nose to nose, needy lips catching and fangs clacking between filthy words and gasps for breath as you felt his presence envelope you fully. Leon was in you, on you, around you...

Leon was your home now. Leon was where you laid to rest. 

For the first time in your undead life, you felt your body licking with heat, temperature rising steadily at the pit of you and threatening to hit a fever pitch. Every inch of him lit you up from the inside. 

"Oh, my baby," he groaned, letting go of you with one hand just to swipe his silvery blonde hair away from his face so he could gaze at you like a work of art. "You're getting close, aren't you? Squeezing me so tight like that..."

"Yeah," you whined, even though you weren't fully sure what it even felt like to be close. You weren't dumb, you knew what orgasms were, you'd just never had one yourself, and as such, you had no basis for comparison. 

Leon aimed to fix that, to make damn sure you familiarized yourself with the feeling over the course of your shared eternity. 

His thrusts picked up with renewed vigor, the legs of the old chaise lounge scratching against the hardwood floors with every push forward, and he didn't even care. Everything else about life felt so worthless in comparison to you, the new center of his universe. The whole entire house could collapse and he would still be content, so long as he had you. 

And every time he remembered that he did have you, that you were here with him right now, squirming and rutting on his cock so beautifully, that he was all you had... it just drove him that much crazier, made him that much more determined to make your first time one you would never forget. He couldn't be happier to spend the entire rest of his endless life topping the last performance. 

You were losing your grip, struggling to keep your eyes open and eventually sinking your itching fangs into what you could reach of his throat just to push yourself a little higher, a little closer. The flavor alone made you purr against his skin, jaw clenching tighter, and the delicious sting of it was pushing him forward too. Now his biggest concern wasn't just making sure you came, but making sure that you came first. 

So he withheld, even as his balls drew up tight and ached to release, focusing instead on getting you there. 

"Don't be shy, princess, I've got you," Leon moaned into your ear, "let it happen... just let it happen..." 

Tears pricked at your eyes, the overabundance of stimulation rendering you down into a tearful little puddle, but it wasn't until he spoke up to encourage you that you realized you really were holding back, stalling yourself at the precipice like it was wrong to let go.

But it wasn't wrong. It was divine. It was indulgent.

Sucking back a mouthful of his blood, you unlatched from Leon's neck just to press your forehead against his own, your jaw stuck open in stilted whines and gasps for breath as that molten heat in your belly finally boiled over, and you discovered exactly what it was you were close to. 

Your spine drew up into an arch, toes curling over his shoulders as you came on his length with a cry, thighs trembling with strain. Leon had never been baptized before, but it felt like he was just now. He'd never felt so close to God as he allowed himself to finish deep inside your perfect pussy. 

You collapsed together in the afterglow, the parlor going quiet again as you both caught your breath and your bearings, a heaping pile of mess on velvet.

"Leon," you whispered, kissing some of the excess blood away from his cold skin as you innocently and earnestly admitted, "I... I think I love you." 

He cracked a fond smile at this, if only because he knew you would catch up in time. After all, you still had much to learn, and he didn't want to overwhelm you more than he already had for one evening. 

"I love you too, little one."

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[alisonwritesimagines]

Blood Son's Girlfriend ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Damian takes his new girlfriend Raven to meet you.

Author’s Note: I ship Damian and Raven in Teen Titans vs the Justice League. Also, Damian and Raven are 18 and 20 in this. I think Raven is older than Damian by like two years? Martha is five in this.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff

Do not repost this anywhere!

There was one person that Damian valued for their opinion. And that person was you.

So when he began to date Raven, he wanted you to meet her after the first month of dating.

“I’m nervous to meet your mom,” Raven tells him as they walked over to the backyard.

“She’ll love you,” Damian reassured her.

Raven knew about you and Bruce. She also knew that you weren’t Damian’s biological mother but he loved you like you were. You had changed Damian in a good way. So when he told Raven that he wanted her to meet you, of course it was natural to feel nervous. Raven had met Bruce on multiple occasions so she wasn't too nervous.

They found you under the gazebo in the backyard with Martha, Alfred, and Bruce sitting with you. It looked like a tea party as Martha was in a dress and a tiara.

“Damie!” Martha yelled excitedly before running over to hug her older brother. Damian picked her up before hugging her back.

“Hey Martha.”

“Do you and your friend want to join my tea party?” Martha asked.

“Sure. Are there seats for us?” Damian asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay then. You up for a tea party?” Damian asked Raven.

“It sounds fun,” she smiled softly. The three of them got closer to the gazebo where you were sitting and smiling with Bruce, waiting to be introduced to Damian’s girlfriend.

“Ummi. Father. I want you two to meet Raven. My girlfriend,” Damian introduced.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you say as you got up. You have her a hug before looking at her outfit. “I love your outfit!”

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wayne. Damian talks about you.”

“You can call me Y/n.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Raven,” Bruce smiles as he shook hands with Raven.

“It’s nice to meet you too, sir.”

“Damian and Raven are having tea with us!” Martha said excitedly.

“Do you drink tea Raven?” You asked her.

“Yes ma'am."

“We have some good tea right now. And Alfred has made some sandwiches and little snacks for us,” you tell her.

Raven sat next to you and Damian as Martha carefully poured tea into a cup for her.

“Make sure you raise your pinky,” Martha tells Raven.

“Okay,” Raven nodded.

Damian watched as you and Martha got along with Raven. After the tea party, Damian and Raven had to head back.

“It was so nice to meet you Raven! I hope to see you again soon,” you tell her after giving her a hug.

“It was nice to meet you too. Thank you for the tea party.”

“Now that Martha is the only child in the mansion, we basically have to listen to her,” you joked.

“We’ll visit again soon,” Damian tells you.

“Oh! Maybe we can have a dinner sometime with everyone! I miss you kids. You hardly visit anymore,” you pouted.

“Sorry. I’ll talk to the others and plan something for you,” Damian said.

“You two have a safe drive back,” Bruce tells them.

“Thanks. We’ll see you again soon,” Damian said before walking off with Raven.

“I can’t believe Damian has a girlfriend now,” you say out loud as you began to clean up the tea party.

“I can’t believe someone is willing to date him. Remember how anti social he was?” Bruce asked.

“Don’t remind me. But he looks like he's getting better," you tell him.

"She's a powerful being with powers including manipulation and telepathy," Bruce said.

"If someone is using powers on our children I would notice. But she seems like a nice young girl who is dealing with Damian now so if you're worried, I'd be more worried about her," you tell Bruce. Bruce felt Martha tap on him to get his attention, making Bruce pick her up.

"Mommy? Can we go visit Jason tomorrow?" Martha asked you.

"Let's see if he's busy before we go visit him," you tell her.

"Okay!"

"Let's help mommy put the tea set away before she calls him okay?" Bruce tells Martha.

"Okay," Martha nodded.

[arc-misadventures]

The Lady’s Next Door

The 'Milf next door' when she says she just going to say 'hi' to that cute blond boy your daughters friends with.

Kali

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Blake: Why do you want to do that, Mom?

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Blake: Why are you dressed like that?

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Blake: Why do you want to talk to, Jaune?

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Blake: Is it because he's a human?

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Blake: He’s just my friend, Mom, he is not another, Adam waiting to happen.

Kali: I just want to talk to him.

Jaune: Hi, Blake. Oh, hi Ms. Belladonna!

Kali: I just want to fuck him.

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Blake: What?!

~~~

Raven

Yang: Hey, Mom, I’m sorry, but can you do me a favour?

Raven: I don’t wanna.

Yang: Mom! Come on! I just need you to watch over my friend till I get back.

Raven: Back, back from where?

Yang: Blake got…?!

Raven: No! Say no more, since it involves your ‘girlfriend’ I can assume it’s something illegal.

Yang: She’s not my girlfriend!

Raven: But, was it illegal?

Yang: …

Yang: Well…

Raven: Ha! Love the bad girls don’t you? Fine, I’ll watch over your friend. Who is it you want me to babysit; It better not be the, Schnee girl! I swear I’ll shoot her one of these days if she…?

Yang: No, it’s not, Weiss. It’s, Jaune. Jaune’s coming over.

Raven: J-Jaune…?

Yang: Yeah, we’ve got a school project we’re working on together, and Jaune wanted to get ahead of the game. So he asked if he could come over here so we could work on it. Is that okay?

Raven: Jaune coming over here…? T-That’s fine! I’m totally fine with that tasty snack…?! I mean! That fine young man coming over here. W-When is coming over…?

Yang: In… half an hour-ish?

Raven: Half an hour? That gives me plenty of time… Time for a shower, and time to put on something spicy~!

Yang: What was that?

Raven: Nothing! Go, and save your girlfriend!

Yang: She’s not my girlfriend, Mom!

Raven: And, I’m not about to get laid, now get going!

Yang: Alright! Alright! I’m going.

Yang: …

Yang: Wait, ‘Get laid?’

~~~

Summer

Ruby: Mom?

Summer: Yes, sweaty~?

Ruby: What are you wearing?

Summer: A bikini.

Ruby: Why?

Summer: Well, your friend, Jaune is coming over to help clean the pool, so I thought I’d give him a show~!

Ruby: A what?

Summer: I thought I’d get a suntan.

Ruby: Oh… Then why are you taking the sunscreen?

Summer: So I don’t get sunburned silly.

Ruby: Okay, do you want me to…?!

Summer: No! No, noo, no. I’ll ask, Jaune to put it on~! That way I get those big muscular hands all over me, feeling me up~! Oh gods~!

Ruby: What was that mom?

Summer: Nothing~!

(Ding dong~!)

Summer: Oh? That must be my boy toy~! Coming!

Ruby: Boy what…?

~~~

Willow

Jacques: Willow! Where are you! Blasted, where is that drunkard!

Willow: …

Jaune: …

Willow: Well, that was close…

Jaune: Yeah… too close.

Willow: Jacques would have thrown an absolute fit if he caught one of, Weiss’s friends snooping about the mansion.

Jaune: I wasn’t snooping, I was lost.

Willow: In a supply closet?

Jaune: I thought it was, Weiss’s room.

Willow: Not even close dear.

Jaune: Okay… but can you open the door, you shoved us in here to get away from, Jacques, and this broom closet is rather cramped.

Willow: No can do… my hands are stuck here… Feeling your broad chest~! Y-You’ll have to open the door yourself.

Jaune: Okay fine… where is the door knob…? Eh? What is this, a pillo…?!

Willow: Ohh~!

Jaune: Ahh?! S-S-S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to…?!

Willow: Jaune?

Jaune: Y-Y-Yeah…?!

Willow: Harder~!

(Ziiiip!)

~~~

Athena

Athena: So tell me, why are you in such a panic to clean up, our already clean house?

Pyrrha: Ooooh… My teammates are coming over, so I wanted to spruce the place up for their visit.

Athena: Your teammates…? Does that mean… Jaune is coming too…?

Pyrrha: Yeah, he’s coming too.

Athena: I see… Well, then I hope he’ll enjoy visiting us in our humble abode~!

Pyrrha: Uhh… Mom? Your top has come undone.

Athena: It’s a little hot here, I just want to cool off.

Pyrrha: It’s not hot in here at all?

Athena: Oh~? What makes you think that?

Pyrrha: Mom, your top has come undone again.

Athena: So it has.

Pyrrha: Mom, I can see you bra.

Athena: And?

Pyrrha: Mom, do up your blouse, unless you want my friends to stare at your breasts.

Athena: So long as it’s him, I don’t mind if he stares, or even copes a feel. I’ll be very happy by the end of it all~!

Pyrrha: C-Cope a feel? Who are you talking about?

~~~

Carla

Carla: So that’s the, ‘loser twerp’ you’ve been bullying?

Cardin: Yeah, his name is, Jaune Arc, complete loser.

Carla: Jaune Arc…? Jaune ArrrrrrrrrC~! Hmm… Rolls off the tongue.

Cardin: Pff! That’s part of the idiot’s stupid catch phrase.

Carla: What catch phrase?

Cardin: “The nAme’S JaUNe ArC; roLLLs of tHE tonGUE! LaDIEs Love it” Pff! How stupid can you be?

Carla: ‘Love’s it?’ So, he is the boy you are being forced to apologize to?

Cardin: Yeah, the teacher says they’ll end my two month long detention early if I apologize to him… I have no intention of apologizing to that loser.

Carla: I see… You know what, Cardin. How about I apologize on your behalf?

Cardin: You’ll do that?

Carla: Of course! He may not accept it, but he’ll at least get that apology he is owed.

Cardin: You’ll do that? Thanks, Mom. I probably would have decked him in the face if I went over there to apologize to the loser.

Carla: Then I best go over there. Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll make sure he accepts your apology. After all, what better apology can a boy get than fucking his bully’s own mother~?

Cardin: W-What was that…?

~~~

Ruby

Ruby: Amethyst, honey? Why are you dressed so… slutty?

Amethyst: Oh… uhh… Parent teacher conference is tonight…

Ruby: I’m aware…

Amethyst: Yeah… so… Professor Arc is coming over to…?!

Ruby: Jaune?! J-Jaune’s coming over here?

Amethyst: Yeah, he told me so himself.

Ruby: So, you’re dressing like a slut to seduce him?

Amethyst: Yeah… That is the plan…

Ruby: Nonono! That won’t work at all honey! He won’t give you so much as a fleeting glance if you dress up like some common harlot!

Amethyst: He won’t?

Ruby: No! You need to dress in something more conservative, something that shows nothing, but something that emphasizes everything~!

Amethyst: Like what?

Ruby: I’ll show you after I’ve seduce him~!

Amethyst: What?! But, I want to sleep with him first!

[razorblade180]

Yang:Jaune, I’m conflicted. *raises baby* We did such a good job. Look at her little face.

Yujin:*giggles*

Yang:We could make more of these, but that process was brutal!

Jaune:You saying that makes me wonder if my dad was terrible at protection, or was my mom obsessed with her work. *boops Yujin’s nose*

Yang:How are you not!? She’s so chunky and soft and aaah! *snuggles baby* I love her.

Jaune:I love her too.

Yang:How did my mom just get rid of this?

Jaune:Well that took a turn! God damn Yang!

Yang:It crossed my mind! I guess I could ask her. Not like I don’t know where she is. Still a little shocked dad let her moved back in.

Jaune:I’m not. I mean your mom is really-

Yang:…

Jaune: A lot like you. How could he not want her around. I’m gonna get the car seat.

Yang:Nice save.

xxxxxx

Raven: *opens door*

Yang:*presents child* How could you give up something like this so quickly?

Raven:…Nice to see you too. And I didn’t. A year isn’t quick.

Yang:What? You had me for a year!?

Raven:Of course I did. Did you really think I birthed you and immediately handed you to Tai? I made sure you were healthy and were going to stick around. I even breastfed you.

Yang:I didn’t know any of that.

Raven:Of course not. You were tiny and the only other people around were bandits. It’s not like there’s a picture of me with a sword in my left and baby on my hip. You were clothed and didn’t have a weird head shape. We bonded all the time then I gave you to tie.

Yang:Huh…the more you know.

Raven:For what it’s worth, I did cry seeing you for the first time and after I gave you up. I’m no real mom but I do love you. Bonding with babies is like swallowing a ball of anxiety. They’re so fragile. It’s why I haven’t with yours yet. Feeling a bond snap is highly unpleasant. She looks pretty healthy though. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Bonding can wait until she’s one.

Yujin blinks twice before holding her arms out in a feeble attempt to reach the person that looks like her mom. Raven holds out her hands and is given the chunky gal. She places Yujin against her chest and the girl immediately rests her head in peace. Raven glances upward to see Yang processing the scene before her eyes. The bandit queen reaches for her daughter and pulls her in too.

Yang:*red* Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.

Raven:You looked like one just now. Not that I mind. You always did like being held like this. *rubs head*

Yang:…*closes eyes* I guess I know why now.

[xerith-42]

Some things we may have forgotten

I've been rewatching MCD and taking extensive notes on it in hopes that I'll never have to watch it again and this is just a list of things that I don't see mentioned or brought up very often/ever that we should talk about and think about more

In the first episode Garroth tries to attack Vylad (angst potential) and Vylad literally just combat locks him by logging out of the game. This is objectively funny and should not be rewritten in any capacity. This should be canon as it is in every universe.

Aphmau's cat Meowki gets randomly killed in Episode 12 by a skeleton while Kiki is right upstairs. Just saying, there's some angst potential there.

In episode 11 Garroth reveals that he knows some medicine. Pretty sure this is never brought up again, but we could always bring it up.

Logan is apparently good with a bow while Zenix is trash at it despite being a self proclaimed "expert archer" which I think is very funny (I know this is part of Zenix's cover but what if we took it seriously it would be so funny)

Zoey is originally from the river village, as is Donna. Pretty sure they retcon that for Zoey, but I like to think the two of them could have been friends before Phoenix Drop.

Garroth actually almost dies in episode 15. Like Dr. Doctor says he will probably die soon at the start of the episode. And he doesn't get healed until episode 20. He literally spends 5 episodes laid up in bed dying.

Brendan's at his side probably angsting the entire time I'm just saying if you want sad gay fanfics, it's sitting right there!

Azura and Garroth were friends as kids??? Hello???? I think this is just a massive plot hole considering what Garroth's actual backstory ends up being asjfgshjdfgjk

Okay but if we twist it a little bit, they were friends as kids as in like at the guard academy??? Bc they're like vaguely teenage/young adult so maybe that's what she means? In which case I wanna think about that more because childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite romance arcs ever. But is it really childhood friends if you met when you were like... 18?? And you're in your like mid to late twenties probably, I wouldn't really classify that as childhood friends.

WAIT IT GETS WORSE!

I don't... I don't even have a joke here, this is just a massive plot hole. Like all of this is just not true to Garroth's backstory as we know it. Grew up in the same village? You mean O'Khasis?? Where Garroth also FAKED HIS DEATH????

I literally don't know what to say to this I was just trying to find silly little facts to try and incorporate into my rewrite and instead I found a massive gaping plot hole

Moving on, in episode 19 when Aphmau confronts Zenix and they fight, he actually apologizes to her. As if he regrets having to hurt her for the sake of his/the Shadow King's goals.

The Lord of Brightport says the Shadow King "used to be a lord". Which like... Okay, I can bend backwards a few ways to say that he could be referring to how Shad started Falcon Claw, but how the fuck does this dude know that??? I feel like Laurance constantly just stumbling into plot holes by complete accident

Dale is apparently a Garmau shipper, going as far as to ask Aphmau if she plans on hooking up with Garroth. I like to think that he and Molly have a bet going for how long it takes for one of the two of them to finally fess up.

Raven's mom tried to eat him??

Okay then.

[ahtae]

just this once (pt.2) (c.s)

You and Soobin have been friends forever...so one little kiss shouldn't hurt...right?

warnings: sub! soobin x dom reader, very slight agoraphilia, biting, name-calling (binnie, ma'am/miss), degradation, praise, marking, pussy eating, penetration, breeding kink, use of mommy,

You went downstairs, as cool-natured as you could manage, and Soobin followed soon after. He gives your mother a kiss on the cheek and showers her with compliments on her cooking — like he's always done.

You didn't know why you hadn't seen it before. The way his raven hair cascades over his eyes, the shimmer of his creamy skin under the light. Soobin was beautiful in a way that made a boy sexy. All sharp lines and angles, yet gentle and innocent in a way that made him boyish and safe.

In between bites of your food, you catch Soobin staring. He turns pink from cheeks to ears, pushing around the corn on his plate. You look down at your shirt, subtly tugging it downward to reveal a tad more cleavage.

You look up and see him holding his breath, trying to avert his eyes elsewhere and shoving a spoonful of corn in his mouth.

"Did you finish your assignment, sweetie?" Your mom asks.

You dip your head in a nod, "Last one! Soobin helped me," you say, winking at him. He nods his head, ignoring your teasing, "She seemed to be struggling so—"

You kick him underneath the table. He chuckles. Soobin and your mom continue to talk to each other about classes, leaving you to entertain yourself with your own thoughts. And oh, did you have an idea.

Sliding your leg closer to him, you snake a socked foot up his leg, trailing his calf to his knee. Soobin's jaw ticks as he glances over at you, then returns to conversing with your mom. Your mouth turns in a smirk. Your foot makes it way to his chair, resting between his legs. Soobin shifts, opening his legs and giving you more space to work with.

You add pressure to his cock, rubbing back and forth in a way that has him half-hard already. Soobin, as well as he's masking it, is about to cave. He's about to apologize to your mother and drag you upstairs to finish what you started. He settles himself, forcing himself to pay attention to whatever your mom is saying. He doesn't really know. Nor does he really care. But he needs to pay attention to his maybe future in-laws.

Then you get up from the table, collect everyone's plates, and claim that you're going to get ready for bed. You look to him, curious whether he's going to take this as his time to exit as well. Alas, he stays. For a reason he doesn't even know why. Maybe it's to calm himself. To get rid of his ever growing lust for you. He isn't supposed to lust after you. He's supposed to want to take care of you and make love to you. So why does he want to pull you to pull his hair and call you his bad little boy?

The conversation with your mother dies down (finally) and Soobin scurries upstairs, hoping you weren't too busy. He opens the door to your bedroom to discover you already in the bathroom, showering, he assumes. He sighs, grabbing his bag.

That's when he hears the door click, pop open, and hot steam spill out the bathroom.

There you are, lacy panties, and no bra.

Soobin immediately turns around. His face is scalding with a crimson blush. He clamps his eyes shut, "I uhm...I'm sorry! I left my bag in here and—"

"Soobin," you say, voice low and slow. "It's okay, turn around."

"But...but you're..." he gulps, tongue wetting his dry lips and wishing he had something for his desert-like throat right now. "Are you sure?" he asks.

You walk up and turn him around. Soobin's eyes meet yours for a second, before immediately trailing down your body. His mouth waters at the sight of your boobs, plump and still damp from the shower.

He drops his bag, chest rising and falling as he steps closer. "May-may I?" He asks.

"It doesn't sound like you really want it Soob—"

"Please. Please let me touch you, I need it," he begs, holding your hands and gazing at you through those big doe eyes of his. You lick your lips, growing wet at his begging.

You lean in, and kiss his cheek teasingly, "Go ahead, binnie."

He kisses your collarbones and the valley between your boobs. Thanking you in-between kisses for allowing him to touch you like this.

Soobin pops a boob into his mouth, tongue swirling around your nipple. You groan, gripping into his hair. Soobin whines into you, switching your other boob. Carefully, he places you on the bed.

His giant hands cling to your waist with enough force to leave finger indentions. Soobin releases your breast, panting as his tongue traces the inside of his mouth — eyes closed — trying to memorize the taste of you.

You pull him into a eager kiss. Your tongues mixing together as he hovers over you. He slides his hands down your wrist before clasping your hands together. You moan in his mouth, and he devours it. Soobin moves to strip his shirt, and you help him. Curious fingers dance over outline of his abs, sculpting his pale skin into hard marble.

"I've been thinking about you," he presses a kiss into your lips, "All throughout dinner," he says. "That little stunt you pulled earlier?" Soobin quirks an eyebrow at you. He whips his glasses off, tossing them on the dresser.

"I'll pay you back for it."

With that, he kisses a hot trail down your boobs, across the plain of your stomach, before licking right above your panties.

"You smell just as sweet as I dreamed you'd be."

Your hand pushes back his hair, "then what are you waiting for?"

Soobin tugs off your panties, throwing them towards his backpack so he'll remember to take them later. His tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, and you groan, hands immediately flying to his hair.

"S-Soobin fuck..." you breathe, gripping into him. His tongue circles your clit. He licks you up and down, back and forth, and sucks your clit like he's been starved. Your hands tug his hair and his scalp grows hot with pain. He whimpers, beginning to hump the bed.

"Soobin? Did I tell you you could get off yet?"

"N-no..." he whines, looking up from between your legs. You force his mouth back onto your clit, relishing in wet heat of his mouth.

"Do what you do best and make me feel good."

He's lapping at your cunt. Moaning and whimpering and agreeing with you. "Yes. Yes, anything to make you feel good. Only hear to make you feel good," he says.

Your moans get louder as you get closer and closer. Wet noises fill the room, as if there's a cat lapping at milk. Soobin adds two lengthy fingers inside you, causing you to release all over his digits.

Soobin eagerly laps up your juices, pulling his fingers out and groaning as he pops them into your mouth.

You flip Soobin over, pushing him down onto the bed. Soobin looks up at you, the entire bottom half of his face wet from your cunt. He whines as you palm his length through his pants. You trail your fingers above the hem of pants, before tugging them off swiftly. Soobin grips the sheets.

"I...fuck...you're so hot," he breathes.

You spread his legs, sitting in between them and massaging his inner thighs. You press a hot kiss against his smooth skin, before sucking the spot into a furious purple.

Soobin fingers claw at the sheets, his mouth gapping open as a hitch escapes his throat. You feel a wet spot growing in his boxers, and release his thigh from your teeth.

Upon seeing your scornful face, Soobin begins stutter apologies,"I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to. You're just so...fucking perfect I couldn't hold—"

"Dirty boy can't even wait for me? Who do you think you are cumming without my permission?"

He pouts, tears brimming his eyes, "I'm sorry ma'am I—"

You tug down his boxers, his cock still springing out of his pants. My God, why has your best friend been hiding all this delicious length for? He's massive, with the perfect amount of girth to fill you just the way you like.

You scoff, slapping his dick. Soobin yelps, whimpering.

"Who's fucking cock is this?" You bark.

Soobin whines, "Yours, miss. I'm all yours. Always have been."

You spit on his cock, swirling your saliva and his cum together with your hand until your pumping starts sounding like squelching. Soobin's mouth is open in a slack 'o' letting moans escape his mouth in tandem with your pumping.

Climbing on top of him, you bring him in for a kiss. Soobin eagerly obliges, and you taste yourself on his lips. You align yourself with him and sink down onto him. Both of you release a moan into each other's mouth, before Soobin starts pistoning into you.

"F-fuck," he whispers, the ghost of his words dancing on the shell of your ear. "Gonna fill you up so good. Gonna make you so full with my babies," the lowness of his voice rumbles between your chests, making you clutch onto his shoulders.

You moan, "Wanna make me a mommy, hm?" You groan when Soobin hits your g-spot, eyes starting to roll. "Bet you would love seeing my tits full of milk."

Soobin cums on the spot with that, pulling you into him and muffling his grunts into your neck. His hands find your boobs, one hand on each as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

You feel your orgasm shoot up your spine like a bullet train, and pour down your thighs like a rainstorm. You shake so violently Soobin is forced to hold you against him as you come down.

You sit up, straddling him and leaving him inside you. His entire face is covered in tears and your juices. He looks like he just saw heaven for the first time, pearly gates, gold and all. His brown irises shine as he looks at you, as if he never had before.

"Soobin—"

"Don't," he interrupts. Soobin takes your hand in his, placing a small kiss in the center of your palm. "Please," he says into your hand before looking up at you. "Just...give us a chance first? Yeah? I've liked you for too long and..." he takes a deep breath, trying to gain control of himself. "...and I know I won't be able to just be your friend after this," he finishes. Soobin plants a couple kiss over your knuckles, interlocking your fingers together. "Just be mine."

Soobin's words hit you so much you jolt on top of him. You can't imagine what kind of pain he must've been in. Watching you quietly from the sidelines after all these years, watching you with multiple guys and not saying a singular word.

You lean down, planting a thick kiss onto his forehead. "Soobin, I was going to say I didn't know you were a freak like that..." you trail off, snickering and pinching his cheek. He flushes underneath you, silently punching himself for jumping to conclusions.

"But since you asked so nicely," you say, popping a light kiss onto his lips. Soobin smiles, no teeth, and not widley, but in a way that makes his eyes tilt upward with joy.

"Yes, Soobin, I will be yours."

~~~~

THIS WAS FILLLLTHHHHYYY

But I hope you enjoyed!! I was debating whether or not to give them a happy ending, but I decided that they worked together enough for one. Tell me how you guys like this, and who else you would like me to write for maybe?

[wafflefries13]

Rose With(out) Thorns (Riddle x Reader)

Summary: Riddle needs help putting off his mother's plans to set him up for an engagement, so what better way than to fake date NRC's favorite magicless prefect? Things can only go well. (No, they can't.)

AN: Fake dating, yay! Had the idea for this a long while back, finally got around to writing it. And, like most of my fics I'm finding out, it kind of got away from me. I hope at some point, probably some time in book 7 here, we finally get a confrontation with Riddle's mom. I hate Riddle's mom, all the cool bitches I know hate Riddle's mom.

Warnings: Depictions of a toxic family environment, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

When Riddle had pulled (Y/N) aside after classes, she didn’t expect to be sitting in one of Heartstabuyl’s tea rooms, a cooling cup of herbal tea placed in front of her. (Y/N) sipped the tea, observing Riddle. His mouth was pulled into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed in determined concentration. His hands were clasped behind him and he was pacing so much (Y/N) was worried about him wearing a hole in the rug. It had almost seemed like he had forgotten she was there. 

“Riddle?” She prompted gently. 

Riddle jumped, startled. (Y/N) really did think he had forgotten about her. His face turned pink, blushing up to his ears. He cleared his throat, promptly sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” He said, swirling a spoonful of honey into his tea. She tried to not take it personally that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Something going on with Ace and Deuce?” She asked, jumping to the most logical conclusion. “I don’t mind meditating.” 

“No, thankfully, both of them have actually been rather pleasant as of late. This is of a more… personal nature.” 

“Oh? Are you doing okay?” She set her cup down, leaning forward. 

His blush went from gentle pink to strawberry red. “I - ahem, yes, no, I’m fine, it’s not that I don’t - what I mean to say is, ah, well…” Deciding there was no elegant way to put it, Riddle’s shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly into his tea. “It’s my mother.” 

(Y/N) immediately tensed. “Oh.” 

The last time (Y/N) had thought about Riddle’s mother was when he was about to leave for winter break. She remembered how quiet he had been, not even bothering to reprimand the excited first years running around the mirror chamber like excited kids. (Y/N) had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch his phone from his dazed hands and entered her number. 

“In case you need anything,” She had said. “Or, you know, you just miss me too much and want to say hi.” 

He really did blush way too easily. 

Of course, any plans for talking on the phone were quickly eliminated by the events at Scarabia. When (Y/N) finally did get her phone back, she found a couple of missed calls and overly formal texts from Riddle’s number, buried in between the frantic messages from Ace and Deuce responding to her SOS. 

Back in the tea room, (Y/N) set her cup down, leaning forward to meet Riddle’s eyes. “Hey,” She said gently. “You know if I can do anything for you I will.” 

“It’s not that easy,” He said. “My mother asked me to come home for the long weekend coming up. And I highly suspect she wants me there to… try and arrange a match.” 

“A match? Wait, like getting engaged? Aren’t you kind of young for that?” 

Riddle shrugged. “It would definitely be a long engagement, but it’s not uncommon to have a match set up years in advance, especially between prominent families like mine.” 

“How very Jane Austen.” 

“Sorry?” 

“An author from my world, she wrote romances. Anyway, sorry, keep going.” 

“Well, I agree that it seems soon. To be fair, Mother was trying to set something up before I came to Night Raven College as well. Being accepted to such a prestigious magic school only elevated my prospects, as she put it. She wants to establish a solid match with another high ranking family, setting my future in stone. Especially after everything that happened at the beginning of the year.” They were both quiet for a moment, fighting off memories of Riddle’s Overblot. “I…” Riddle continued. “I don’t think anyone back home knows.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s like personal medical information, right? Even if it’s magical or whatever it’s still your mental health. You don’t owe anyone that.” 

“I don’t think that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. I know it might be hard for you to believe after everything that’s happened this year, but Overblots are still considered rare. Not many survive the process. And those that do, well, they aren’t looked upon as kindly as you’ve looked upon us.” 

(Y/N) set her cup down hard. “That’s not fair! It’s not some moral failing. You and everyone else were - are - dealing with really tough emotions! It’s not right to just ignore trauma and your feelings, that’s what led to everything happening in the first place!” 

“I’m glad you see it that way. And, if I’m being honest, public perception of the emotional stress that can lead to an Overblot and those who make it through the process are gradually being seen with more sympathy. Like you said, it’s a mental health issue at the core. But older communities like the one I grew up in are slower to accept new social views.”  

(Y/N) sat back. “I’m sorry, Riddle. That sounds really hard.” 

“Thank you,” Riddle breathed. He cleared his throat. “Well, that sort of awkwardly leads to what I was wanting to ask you in the first place.” He cleared his throat again, nervously looking around the room. Finally, steadying himself, he forced himself to meet (Y/N) eyes. “I would like you to come with me and act as my partner.” 

(Y/N) felt her head go light and heart jump. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” 

Riddle’s confidence cracked as he looked away again. “In so many words, yes.” 

“Wow. Forget Jane Austen, this is more Meg Ryan territory.” Riddle blinked. “Never mind, forget it. I mean, not what you’re talking about, just, it’s not what I was expecting you to say.” 

“It’s not the most conventional request, to be fair. But I’ve turned this over in my head for days and I can’t see any way out of it. My plan is to show I’m taken, dissuade the marriage market. It will be one less thing for Mother to hold over my head. I’ll probably have to deal with it eventually when I graduate but I don’t even want to consider getting engaged right now, for economic, political, or whatever other reason. I’ve never been overly fond of the prospects my mother has introduced anyway. Not that I want to pressure you or anything! I completely understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable for any reason and I completely respect your decision-” 

“Well, hey, don’t answer for me, now.” (Y/N) reached forward and touched the back of Riddle’s hand, jolting him out of the spiral he was throwing himself in. He jumped at the contact. “It’s unorthodox, but since when has anything here been orthodox? Of course I’ll help, Riddle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be very good at it, but I’ll do my best.” 

Riddle blinked at her for a moment, registering her words, then the tension practically floated off his shoulders. “That’s - that’s great, thank you.” 

“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, this will make a great story to tell the guys later.” 

Riddle scowled, blushing again. “Don’t.” 

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) and Riddle stood in the mirror chamber. They had come up with a cover to tell everyone while they were gone. Since (Y/N) technically didn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, not having any government papers or even a birth certificate, Riddle suggested they visit Dinah, the capital city of the Queendom of Roses and his home city, to petition at an official government building for temporary citizenship.  It was really only a half truth. If they had time between the deception, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try. 

Grim was staying at Heartstabuyl with Ace and Deuce, although it would be more accurate to say with Trey, since he was clearly the one in charge while the House Warden was away. 

“And make sure to do that reading for History of Magic,” (Y/N) was saying, fiddling with Grim’s bow and magestone. “I marked the pages and put highlight tabs on the parts you need to take notes on. And don’t eat too many sweets, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache again. And don’t stay up too late or else you won’t have the energy to do anything during the day and you’ll throw off your whole sleep schedule. And-” 

“Mrow!” Grim cried, batting her hands away. “I get it, I get it! I’m not a little kid, you know!” 

(Y/N) smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. “Of course I know. You’re a big full grown dire beast who doesn't need anyone to take care of you. Why, I bet when I come back you won’t need me to cook for you anymore or make sure you wake up on time. You probably don’t even want a souvenir!” 

“No, no! I like your cooking! And you better bring me something back, henchhuman!” 

“Of course, Grim.” 

Like a parent sending their child to school for the first time, (Y/N) and Grim detangled themselves from each other. Grim floated back with Ace and Deuce, who also required promises of souvenirs, and gave a final wave. (Y/N) waved back before stepping through the mirror portal after Riddle, luggage in hand. 

There was always a strange feeling when going through the mirror, far spaces being squished together in a more convenient and transversable state. If (Y/N) hadn’t already been dragged underwater to swim through the depths unbothered, she would have compared it to being surrounded by water. Instead, she would more closely compare it the moments after a fall or jump, when totally suspended in the air with no tether. A slight jolt of the stomach at first, a feeling of weightlessness, a rush of cold along the spine, and then they were there. 

(Y/N) still wasn’t completely sure how the mirror portal worked, or how it chose where to deposit someone, considering there wasn’t always a mirror on the other end. She knew it had something to do with the magestones NRC students wore on their armband, and that it helped to leave and come back from the same place, but other than that it was just another magic mystery she didn’t want to think too hard about. 

(Y/N) shook her head as she stepped from the portal back on solid ground. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as she blinked and looked around. (Y/N)’s first impression of Dinah was a memory of a picturesque depiction of Victorian London. The street in front of them was wide, paved in even brick. There were store fronts painted in bright warm colors with big display windows, buildings stacked high with higher chimneys on top. Men and women strolled along the street, seemingly dressed to the nines for a perfectly ordinary outing, with top hats and long coats, bustled dresses in fanciful colors and feather hats. 

A pair of horses pulled a dark blue omnibus carriage down the street, hooves making a pleasant ‘clip-clop’ sound as they meandered. It made (Y/N) wonder about the technological advancements of Twisted Wonderland, not for the first time. She had remembered how surprised she had been to see that cars existed in Sunrise City, when previously the only methods of transportation she had seen had been brooms, ghostly carriages, boats, and mirror portals. She frowned at the memory of Leona teasing her about her surprise. 

“We have our own carriage,” Riddle told her, mistaking her expression as she watched the omnibus. “Mother sent it to collect us. It should be here - ah, there.” Riddle lifted his hand in greeting to the approaching carriage. 

A white horse pulled a ruby carriage with a stenciled rose against a six-pointed starburst emblazoned on the doors. There were two men in stately red velvet livery on the carriage, one at the front, flicking the reins and lazily holding a horse whip, and the other holding on the back above the wheels. As they pulled along the sidewalk, the driver nodded and the footman jumped down to formally bow. He lugged their luggage atop the carriage, a barely noticeable judgmental sneer pulling at his mouth as he handled (Y/N)’s. While Riddle’s bag was neat and new, as beautiful as it was practical, (Y/N) had foraged hers from somewhere deep in the depths of Ramshackle dorm, among the abandoned rooms and chests and closets with all manner of ragged treasures. The carriage rocked as they climbed in, sitting on soft overstuffed bench seats facing each other. Riddle knocked against the roof when they were settled and the carriage rumbled forward. 

(Y/N) stared out the window, marveling at everything they passed. “Hey, how far is Trey’s family bakery from here?” She asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, not far, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to go by. I’m not sure Mother would approve of it.” 

(Y/N) turned back to Riddle, noticing how he gazed out the window without really seeing anything. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knee jittering with nerves.  

She reached a hand forward and touched his jumping knee, causing him to startle. “Hey,” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You got me here with you, right? And-” She rummaged through the pocket on her NRC uniform, the most formal attire she had for making a good impression. She pulled out a small Moleskine notebook, proudly displaying it. “I’ve been taking notes! I have a bunch of the Queen of Heart’s rules here. I don’t have nearly as many memorized as you do but I figured a cheat sheet wouldn’t hurt.” 

Riddle looked at the notebook for a second before smiling in relief. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host so far, have I? Especially considering what you’re doing for me.” 

(Y/N) switched sides, landing heavily next to Riddle as the carriage went over a bump. She lightly knocked his arm with the back of her fist. “I told you it’s fine. I’m happy to help out. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uptight before, and that’s saying something.” 

Riddle frowned. “I’m not uptight.” 

“Sure you’re not, teapot tyrant.” Riddle huffed and turned away. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, are you doing okay?” 

Riddle fiddled with his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “The last time I came home, over winter break, my mother and I… well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly. An argument. That just so happened to lead to raised voices. And some harsh words. And maybe some things that are hard to take back.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what to say to that. She sat back, focusing on the rumbling of the carriage beneath her. She noticed Riddle fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails.  She slid her hand into his, holding it tight between them. She stared straight ahead, ignoring Riddle’s look of shock, no matter how cute his rising blush made him look. She squeezed his hand once, looking out her window. Riddle watched her face in profile, feeling the warmth of her hand in his, their shoulders occasionally bumping each other with the rocking of the carriage. He turned back to his own window, squeezing back.  

A short while later, the carriage pulled in front of an elaborate townhouse. It had a beautiful red brick facade with white trimming around the windows and door. Ivy climbed elegantly up one side of the building There was a waist high black wrought iron fence around the perimeter, and the small yard in front was studded with blooming red rose bushes with butterflies elegantly flitting from flower to flower. And, while it was undoubtedly beautiful and picture perfect, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a little put off by the whole image. It seemed too perfect, not a blade of grass out of place or a bruised petal. Even the butterflies felt like they were on a preapproved flight path. Despite the fresh air outside, it was stifling. 

As the footman on the carriage unloaded their bags, (Y/N) made a move to pick hers up, only for a valet to swoop in and effortlessly scoop up both bags. He turned and marched back through a door that seemed to shimmer out of nowhere, disappearing behind the ivy when he went through it. 

“A servant’s entrance,” Riddle told her. “There are several through the house. It helps keep everyone separated.” 

“I could have gotten my stuff,” She said. “It’s heavy.” 

“You’re a guest. It would be impolite to expect you to carry your own things.” 

A man in a crisp black suit with a gold pocket watch dangling from the front breast pocket opened the door, bowing low with a hand on his chest. “Welcome back, Master Riddle.” He said. The man looked up, sweeping a quick but appraising look over (Y/N). “And this is Miss (Y/N)?” 

“Yes, hello!” (Y/N) greeted, smiling brightly. She walked forward, taking hold of the man’s hand and with both of hers and shaking it. She missed the choking gasp Riddle let out behind her. “Just (Y/N) is fine. It’s so nice to meet you! This is a lovely home. I’ve never been to Dinah before, everything is so beautiful! I’ve only been to the Queendom of Roses once before, in this place called Clocktown for a festival, but it’s so much different here.” 

The butler nearly reared back at her greeting, going stiff as a board, but too polite to all together flinch and snatch his hand back. He merely retracted his hand, looked once at Riddle, then gazed straight ahead impassively. “Yes, well, welcome to the Rosehearts townhome. I hope you… enjoy your stay, Miss (Y/N).” 

(Y/N), determined to push through the awkwardness she could sense building, replied chipperly, “Thanks!” And strode inside without looking back. 

“Thank you, Edgar,” Riddle said as the butter closed the door behind them. “Do you know when Mother and Father will be home?” 

“Dr. Rosehearts was called in for a last minute surgery and I believe Mr. Rosehearts is at his club. They both planned to be home for dinner to meet you and your… guest.” 

The only way (Y/N) could think to describe the townhouse was grand. A grand sweeping staircase to the second floor, marble flooring of black and white checkered tile, two rooms on either side of the entrance hall stuffed with comfortable furniture with lace, one room farther to the back half-hidden behind the staircase, and decorative oil paintings. 

“Wow,” She said. “This is where you grew up?” 

“Partially, yes,” Riddle said. “We have a country estate as well, but the hospital is in town and Mother always wanted to be present for the social season.” 

“Ooh, a country estate and the social season. Look at you, sounding all fancy.” 

“Well, excuse me for being raised in polite society, unlike some people.” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed, playfully shoving him as he grinned back. 

Riddle’s eyes cut back to Edgar the butler, watching the two of them with a critical eye and raised eyebrow. Riddle cleared his throat and schooled his face back to a serious expression. “I’ll show you your room, (Y/N). It’s upstairs.” 

“Was it too much?” (Y/N) asked as they ascended the staircase, out of ear shot from Edgar. “I was trying to make a good impression.” 

“People don’t tend to be as friendly with strangers here,” He said. “When you meet my parents it would be better to wait for them to act first.” 

“So no big hug?” She laughed at Riddle’s glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll be picture perfect polite tonight. I know it’s important to you.” 

“Thank you. To be honest I still feel awkward about all of this.” “I could say ‘what are friends for’ but I think we’re a little past that. It’s not like I’m getting nothing out of this. This place is like a fancy hotel!” She pushed open the door to her room, bright with the sunlight streaming in across a bed with a large fluffy white duvet across it. (Y/N) spun around, falling against the bed with a ‘poof’ of the down feather pillows. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft,” She sighed. Suddenly she sat straight up. “Oh, oh! Show me your room!” 

“What?” 

She jumped up, taking his hand and pulling him back down the hall. “Come on, let me see your room! I want to see what you’re like when you're not at school.” 

“Much the same, I promise.” 

His eyes cut to a door down the hall and (Y/N) grinned wickedly. Ignoring Riddle’s sound of protest, she threw open his door. 

She faltered a bit as she looked inside, stomach squeezing with that same unease she felt from outside. Spartan wouldn’t be the right way to describe Riddle’s childhood bedroom. Sure, there was plenty of stuff in it, a neatly made bed, an expensive looking desk with a glass hooded reading lamp, plenty of books filling shelves, and a polished wardrobe. But it felt so bare. It felt more like a catalog picture than someone’s own bedroom they had grown up in. (Y/N) looked back to Riddle, who was looking down as if ashamed, like his room was full of trash rather than uninspiringly neat. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face, closing the door. “Well, show me around. Back in my world, houses like these would have a bunch of secret passages, maybe a couple of ghosts. But I guess ghosts aren’t all that unusual here.” 

“I think your home has more ghosts than mine,” Riddle said. “As for secret passages…” 

(Y/N) clapped her hands together. “Yeah?” 

Riddle smiled slyly. “Sorry, none of those either. Unless you’re thinking of servant’s doors, but I don’t think they would appreciate us meddling.” 

“Aw, boo.” 

“No pun intended, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

“How about the garden? It’s out back. I’ll have someone bring us tea. It’ll give us a chance to strategize.” 

The garden was nestled in the backyard of the townhome, bordered by high fences separating it from the other townhomes. There were, unsurprisingly, rose bushes in raised wooden boxes. White gravel pathways cut through each of the boxes, strolling under a trellis wound with flowers. To the back of the garden was a small glass greenhouse, filled with different medical herbs and plants along with scientific equipment for study. There was a small table on the back porch underneath a pergola wrapped with ivy. After Riddle gave (Y/N) a tour of the gardens they sat down and a maid brought out a white China teapot, pouring tea into delicate blue and white tea cups. (Y/N) inhaled the steam, letting the warmth and sweet notes of the tea fill her lungs before taking a sip. 

“Thanks!” (Y/N) said to the maid who blinked before bobbing a nod and rushing off. (Y/N) made a note to herself that the servants here had a habit of avoiding eye contact. “Okay,” She said, taking a blueberry scone from a plate the maid brought with the tea. “What’s our game plan?” 

“Well, my mother is obviously the one to impress. I don’t believe Father will have much to say, he usually defers to her. That’s usually a good plan with anything, deferring to her, I mean. Safe topics of conversation include the weather, recent medical innovations, and the health and travel of neighbors. It’s best to avoid personal topics like parliament, gossip, or personal questions. It’s also best to avoid discussing novels, Mother says they fill one’s head with fanciful ideas and nonsense.” 

“Okay, so when would be the best time to brag about you?” 

Riddle’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?” 

“Well, you’re my fake boyfriend and I’m trying to look good in front of your mom, so it makes sense if I talk you up, right? Like how you’re a great dorm leader, that dressage stuff you’ve been doing in the equestrian club, how you’ve been helping other students study. Cater told me about how you set up a Magicam account just to help him study, that was super cute.” 

“I’m, ah, not actually supposed to have a Magicam account, educational or otherwise, so it’s probably best not to bring that up. Mother says social media rots your brain.” 

“I mean, sometimes, yeah, but it can be fun too. And I know you still post sometimes. I follow you.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do! Those study tips didn’t just help Cater. Plus I like to see what’s going on with you. Not that you post stuff very often or anything, but I did like that picture from the last Unbirthday Party with those cupcakes you made.” 

Riddle waved her praise off. “They weren’t anything special. Most of the frosting was smudged all together anyway.” 

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, especially the first time around. And I thought they were cute.” She fished her phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the picture they were talking about on Magicam. It was a close up of Riddle, smiling, face smeared with red frosting. Trey was caught mid-laugh, handing him a napkin. Ace’s hand was blurred with movement in the lower right edge, having snagged a cupcake from the tray Riddle was holding, covered with cartoon rose dotting liners. It was obvious that the red and white frosting on top was meant to replicate delicate rose petals, and while some of them looked presentable, most had been piped with a shaky hand, leaving too much or too little frosting for the petals. “See? Cute.” 

Riddle’s hand darted forward to push the phone down. “Yes, sure, fine, you made your point! I knew I should have taken that down.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Riddle sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine, yes, just don’t bring it up at dinner.” 

“If you don’t mind me saying, it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of wiggle room for conversation here. What do you usually talk about when you come home?” 

Riddle took another sip of tea. “My studies, mostly. Class rankings, the local social season, applying for medical colleges, that sort of thing.” 

“What about your friends at NRC? Or all the weird and exciting stuff that happens? Like when we all went to the ghost realm at Halloween, or Fluer City at Halloween? Wow, a lot of crazy stuff happens around Halloween, huh?” 

“That’s all superfluous. My grades and plans for the internship fourth year are more important.” 

“Riddle.” (Y/N) reached across the table, taking Riddle’s hand. “That stuff is still important, you know. We’ve gone through a lot of crazy stuff, a lot of it dangerous and scary. It’s okay to talk about that. There’s life outside of classrooms.” 

Riddle looked away but squeezed her hand. “I know. And I’m getting there, with priorities and understanding others. But this sort of thing is important to her. And I still want to impress her, to have her be proud of me. Despite everything.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something supportive, something wise, something to make everything better. But nothing seemed right, nothing to encapsulate the pity and support (Y/N) felt all at once. In the movies or on TV, there was always some sort of all encompassing resolution, a final speech to make everything better. But she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t seem to express exactly how she felt. That Riddle didn’t need to constantly try so hard, to always make himself a perfect image for others to view. That he was allowed to like the things he liked, no matter how trivial or silly they seemed. Make bad frosted cupcakes, learn dressage, play games, be a teenager like everyone else for once. That she had such strong feelings for him, faults included. But nothing seems right. So she just squeezed his hand back. 

“Master Riddle,” A voice said, startling them both. Edgar stood at the door, casting a permanently judging look at the two of them. “Doctor and Mr. Rosehearts have returned. They have requested your presence in the dining room.” 

Riddle jumped up, smoothing his outfit even though it was spotless. “Right, well, (Y/N), I suppose it’s time you meet my parents.” 

Now that the time was actually here, (Y/N) didn’t expect to feel so nervous. Well, maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was anxious, hoping to make a good impression and help Riddle with their plot, but there was something else mixed with it. A kind of dread at coming face to face with a woman she had only ever heard bad things about. This woman, whether intentional or not, set the ground for Riddle’s Overblot. She was not an insignificant part of his emotional distress, his stress, the walls he put up around himself. How were you supposed to feel about a person like that? Especially when the object of that stress still so strongly wanted her approval? 

Edgar escorted them to the dining room where the table was already set and a maid and footman were starting to set out the first course. (Y/N) felt her heart jump unpleasantly in her chest as she came face to face with Dr. Rosehearts. The older woman’s steely gray eyes locked on to (Y/N)’s directly as she stepped in the room. She felt like her skin had been peeled back and every dark and unpleasant thought she had ever had had been thrown on the table for everyone to inspect. Dr. Rosehearts’ otherwise perfect cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into a tight frown. Her red hair, matching perfectly to her son’s, was pulled back in a tight bun clasped at her neck, a deadly looking sharp hairpin keeping it together. She looked elegant and flawless, more like an expensive bone China doll than an actual living breathing person in front of her. (Y/N) almost jumped in surprise when she finally noticed Riddle’s father. He was reading a newspaper, sharp cheekbones and tired, watery eyes under wavy mousy brown hair. Other than a brief flit of his eyes as the two of them entered, it was almost like he didn’t notice them at all. 

“Riddle,” His mother said, standing and turning to her son. (Y/N) felt like a stone had been removed from her chest as Dr. Rosehearts’ eyes finally left hers. “Welcome home. Take a seat.” 

Riddle marched over to his seat opposite his father, sitting with a ramrod straight back, looking straight ahead. (Y/N) faltered for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Riddle or Mr. Rosehearts. The second of hesitation was noticed by Dr. Rosehearts, whose mouth ticked in annoyance. Riddle subtly nodded his head to the chair across from him, next to his father. (Y/N) scuttled over, pulling the chair out with an undignified squeak against the floor. Mr. Rosehearts looked up at her as she sat down, blinking like she had materialized out of thin air. 

“Mother, Father,” Riddle said, voice stiff. “Allow me to introduce my partner, (Y/N) (L/N), Ramshackle Dorm Prefect at Night Raven College. (Y/N), this is my mother, Dr. Victoria Rosehearts, and my father, Mr. Albert Rosehearts.”  

“Please to meet you,” (Y/N) said, giving what she hoped was a bright and welcoming smile. “Thank you for having me.” 

“Yes, well,” Dr. Rosehearts said. “I must admit it was a surprise when Riddle told me he was bringing a guest home for  the holiday.” 

“Well, Riddle always talks so fondly about Dinah and I haven’t traveled too much, so I couldn’t help but impose. You have a lovely home, by the way.” 

“I do wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, ignoring (Y/N)’s attempted start at conversation. “How a young girl such as yourself comes to attend an all boys school?” 

“To be totally honest I’m not really sure myself,” (Y/N) said, laughing through the awkwardness of Dr. Rosehearts intense direct gaze. “We’ve been trying to figure that out since I first got here. It’s been kind of a struggle getting a hang of everything, considering I can’t even use magic, but I-” 

(Y/N) was interrupted by the clatter of Dr. Rosehearts’ spoon clattering against her soup bowl. Even Mr. Rosehearts looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Did you say you can’t use magic?” Mr. Rosehearts said. 

(Y/N) gulped, looking quickly at Riddle who was going pale. “Well, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I’m not even from this world. Dimension? Anyway, magic doesn't exist in my world. Somehow one of the black carriages swept me up and brought me here. No one can figure out how or why yet, not even our Magic Mirror. Our headmage has been trying to research it but I guess there’s not a lot of studies on interdimensional travel.” She tried to laugh off the heavy atmosphere. “But no, no magic. Can’t even ride a broom, which is a shame because that’s the one thing I would really love to do.” 

Dr. Rosehearts cleared her throat, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. A maid hastily rushed in to clear her soup. “Well, I suppose Night Raven College’s admission requirements have become quite lacks as of late, having common folk mingling with upper crust society and nobles, not to mention allowing fae folk. I suppose anything is possible at this rate.” 

(Y/N) scowled, finding herself blurting out her next statement despite Riddle’s miniscule shake of the head. “Hey, everyone works really hard at NRC. Where they’re from or their family doesn't matter, they’re all great mages. Besies, it’s the Magic Mirror that chooses people. It’s able to see everyone’s potential. And with everything that’s been going on this year everyone’s only gotten better. It’s amazing some of the stuff I’ve seen them do.” 

“Oh?” Mr. Rosehearts said, folding his paper closed and leaning forward. “Has it been an interesting year?” 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what a typical year at a magic school is like, but to me it’s been insane! There was one time where one of our dorm heads got kidnapped by a ghost bride to marry him, and everyone got together to try to woo her away. She ended up slapping half of them and freezing them in place. Oh, Riddle was here, he had this amazing red velvet suit. Or one of our magestones got stolen by a fairy queen and we had to stage a whole heist to get it back. Our coach, Coach Vargas, had these camps to test people’s abilities and survival instinct when they couldn’t use magic. But then he dressed up as a monster and ‘kidnapped’ a bunch of students so everyone else had to come rescue them. The next camping trip he got one of our other professors in on it too. And every once and a while we’ll have this Culinary Crucible that they had to change the judging for because everyone kept cheating, but-” 

“My!” Dr. Rosehearts suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe I remember the last time we had so much chatter at a mealtime.” 

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. 

Mr. Rosehearts, who had been nodding along to (Y/N) recollection of events with rapt attention, cleared his throat with a cough, leaning back in his chair and taking up his newspaper again. “Yes, well, youth these days,” He said, noncommittal. 

Despite the fact that a maid had just brought out the next course, Dr. Rosehearts stood. “I find I’ve lost my appetite,” She announced. “I will be retiring early tonight. Riddle, we have an appointment at the Lorina Hotel tomorrow for high tea. Make sure you and your guest wear something presentable.” With that, she swept from the room without another word. The silence that followed was brittle, like ice on a lake right before someone plummets through it. 

“Well,” (Y/N) said, breaking the quiet. She stood, walking over to Dr. Rosehearts abandoned plate and picking it up, dumping the roasted chicken and vegetable onto her own plate. “More for me then.” 

~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) had apologized to Riddle no less than twelve times. She tried to defend herself, that she was taken by surprise that his parents didn’t know about her unique circumstances, that she was annoyed how dismissive Dr. Rosehearts had been, that she just started talking and couldn’t figure out how to stop. Not that any of it really excused her behavior, she knew. She felt like she had let Riddle down, ruining whatever chance, no matter how slim, of this being a peaceful visit home. And, while Riddle had repeated every time that it was fine, that she was okay, that he should have prepared her better, she still felt bad. 

(Y/N) had never been to a high tea before. She wasn’t 100% sure what to wear, especially with Dr. Rosehearts’ comment from the night before. And it wasn’t like she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from in the first place. Thankfully, their alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion design had somehow grown fond of her during the school year, providing her with a few outfits to help her fit in better outside of school.  The next morning, she pulled a dusty blue sundress with little white buttons out of her luggage. She had a pair of sandals more suited to the beach than a hotel, but they fit the theme better than her school loafers. She slipped them on and hoped no one would look down. 

Tea was scheduled for 11 so (Y/N) decided to find Riddle and try to get a better lay of the land before they headed out. He didn’t answer her knock, which she thought was strange as Riddle wasn’t the type to sleep in, even if he was home on break. She felt strange wandering through the house. Every once and a while she would see a maid or footman dart out of one of the hidden servant’s doors, but before she could start a conversation or ask where her hosts were they would duck their heads and disappear. 

She eventually found Mr. Rosehearts in the breakfast room, which was the same as the dinning room but with a changed name for some reason. The thick curtains had been thrown open letting light pour in across the spread on the table. Despite the fact that there was enough food to feed at least ten people, Mr. Rosehearts was the only one present, absentmindedly nibbling on some jam slathered toast. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face. She might have ruined her first impression with Dr. Rosehearts last night, but Mr. Rosehearts had at least seemed intrigued by what she had to say. “Good morning!” 

Mr. Rosehearts jumped, dropping his toast jam side down on the spotless table cloth. “Oh! Good morning.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The last thing she needed right now was to turn both of Riddle’s parents against her. 

Mr. Rosehearts waved her off, gingerly picking up the toast and plopping it on his plate. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to company in the morning, is all. Not that I mind it. Please, sit.” 

“Is everyone else still asleep?” (Y/N) asked, scooping up some chive studded scrambled eggs on her plate. 

“Oh, no, Victoria doesn't believe in sleeping in. It disrupts the normal circadian rhythms, you know, especially for teenagers like you and Riddle. No, she and Riddle were speaking in her office.” 

“Oh.” (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “I think I need to apologize.” Mr. Rosehearts looked up, blinking owlishly. “I was rambling last night, at dinner. I shouldn’t have been so argumentative, especially since I’m a guest in your home. I’ll be putting a better foot forward from now on, promise.” 

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no, please, think nothing of it. Actually,” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was hoping you could expand on some of those stories you started last night. Just between you and me, I happen to have a penchant for gossip.” He patted the newspaper beside him. Now that (Y/N) got a closer look, she realized it was a society gossip column. She smiled, getting Bridgerton flashbacks. 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. Do you want to start with Fleur City almost burning down or Magicam Monsters taking over NRC?” 

Meanwhile, Riddle sat in an uncomfortable straight backed chair in his mother’s office. Various papers floated around the room, magically organizing themselves in various case files. A free-standing pen signed Dr. Rosehearts’ signature across multiple forms. Despite the warm morning light filling the room, Riddle felt chilled. 

“I wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of her. “About the company you have chosen to keep while away at school.” 

“(Y/N) is a respectable person,” Riddle said. “She was just thrown off last night. She’s still not used to many of our customs. She’s a fast learner, however, she’s acclimated remarkably quickly to life here. Given that she has no base of knowledge for many of the classes at Night Raven College she has good grades and-” 

Dr. Rosehearts held up a hand, stopping Riddle with the words of praise in his throat. “The way the ones you associate with act reflects on you, Riddle. It also reflects upon me and the whole Rosehearts household. You should know better by now.” 

Riddle felt his face flush, looking down. “Yes, Mother.” 

“Really, Riddle, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for any pretty face. And how much do you actually know about her background, anyway? You said yourself she’s not from here. Who knows what kind of manipulation she might be playing at, using our good name against us?” Riddle bit his tongue, your defense springing into his mouth. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

“Yes, Mother, I know.” 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosehearts stood, Riddle following. “We’ll continue to house Miss (Y/N) here during the break, it would be bad form to throw her out at this point, but as soon as you return to school I expect you to end this frivolous excursion.” 

Riddle felt his heart drop into his stomach. “But, Mother, I-” 

“No buts, Riddle,” She said sternly. Riddle immediately looked down, avoiding her cold iron gaze. “I know best for you. You’ll do as I say. We have a plan for you, remember? There’s no use upending your future over some fleeting fancy. And besides, there are many wonderful eligible ladies here in town. We’ll be meeting a few of my top choices for you at the hotel. And we’ll be attending a ball tomorrow night.  Your friend is not invited, by the way.” 

Riddle drew in a sharp breath, a million things he wanted to say racing through his mind. His mother had arranged a meeting with bachelorettes when he had told her he already had a girlfriend? He realized with a sinking sensation that no plan he and (Y/N) would have come up with would have been good enough for his mother. She had her plan and nothing would be able to change it. He suddenly had the sensation of floating, no, falling, with no anchor or safety net. His stomach flipped and a rush of cold descended over his body. 

“Yes, Mother,” He only said. 

Dr. Rosehearts nodded definitively. She swept from the office, Riddle following close behind with downcast eyes. They both paused on the stairway, startled by the sound of laughter floating out from the breakfast room. Riddle pushed past his mother into the room. (Y/N) and his father sat at the table across from each other. His father’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a raucous laugh. Riddle couldn’t remember the last time he heard his father laugh like that, or even laugh at all. (Y/N) was in the middle of a story, hands animated. 

“So of course the referee asked who he is, because their team didn’t have anyone signed up for an alternate, and Leona goes and uses my name! Like no one would recognize the second prince of the Sunset Savannah. And you know what, no one did!” 

Mr. Rosehearts put his hand against his chest, trying to regain his composure. “And then? Did you at least win?” 

“Oh, of course, yeah! And then we all had to run away in this jeep Leona was driving right when it started to rain. I’ve heard Checka still calls him ‘Unca (Y/N)’ sometimes.” 

Mr. Rosehearts looked up, noticing Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts standing in the doorway. “Oh, Victoria! (Y/N) was just telling me the most wonderful story. Did you know she’s friends with Prince Leona of the Sunset Savannah? And the Asim heir, they donated at the last charity gala you attended, didn’t they? It’s amazing the adventures children can get up to now a days-” 

“You’re very chatty this morning, Albert,” Dr. Rosehearts cut him off. “This much noise in the morning is quite unusual, don’t you agree?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped and he squirmed in his chair. He picked up his newspaper, flipping it so a person couldn’t see what he was reading. 

(Y/N) frowned at the sudden change of mood, but gave Riddle a warm smile when she saw him. It was amazing how he almost immediately felt lighter. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing again. “Hi!” She chirped, standing. Riddle felt a rush of mixed emotions. Part fluff at (Y/N) smiling at him, beautiful in her sundress, part embarrassment knowing it was exactly the wrong thing to wear, and no doubt his mother had clocked that immediately. 

Riddle reached for a cheese danish. His mother’s hand snapped out, swatting his hand away. “You’ll have sweets at the hotel,” She said, sniffing. “You don’t need the extra sugar, especially this early in the morning.” 

‘Then why have it on the table?’ (Y/N) thought uncharitably. She went over to Riddle, linking her arm through his, pulling him away from Dr. Rosehearts. “You’re sweet enough already, Riddle. When do we head out?” 

Later, as they were waiting for the carriages to head to the hotel, Riddle pulled out and quickly ate the danish (Y/N) had slipped in his pocket. 

~~~

The Lorina Hotel stretched high above their heads. (Y/N) leaned back to take in the full scope of it. The facade was clean white bricks with dozens of windows glinting in the sunlight. Each story was capped by marble carvings of lions with wings, jumping fish, and flowers. 

“No time for gawking,” Dr. Rosehearts said, straightening her gloves. “We have people waiting for us.” 

“We do?” (Y/N) asked, purposefully ignoring Dr. Rosehearts thorny glare. “Are they your friends, Riddle?” 

“Not in so many words,” He replied. 

A finely dressed doorman opened the door to a lavish lobby. Before (Y/N) had a chance to ‘gawk’ again, Dr. Rosehearts swept them off to a side room. She gave their name to a waiter at a podium. The man skimmed the list of reservations in front of him, looking down his nose at (Y/N) and her uncovered shoulders. While (Y/N) was too enamored observing her surroundings, Riddle noticed. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and brought it around her shoulders. The man sniffed. He led them through the tea room to two tables situated against a large window. They sat by a large window opening onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Guests strolled across the green lawn, admiring flowers. Dr. and Mr. Rosehearts sat at their own small table while Riddle and (Y/N) were directed to one that had three other residents already. 

“Riddle!” One of them called, smiling up at him. “How lovely to see you again.” 

(Y/N) felt Riddle stiffen beside her. “Hello, Lily, Rose, Violet. It’s nice to see you all as well.” 

(Y/N) slipped her hand into Riddle’s, who jumped in surprise, before inserting herself in the girls’ line of sight. “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Riddle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet some of his friends from home!” 

All three girls, in Victorian inspired puffed up dresses with more lace and tulle than (Y/N) had ever seen before and large elaborate sun hats to match, startled, blinking at her as if she had appeared out of thin air. 

Almost in sync, the three of them whipped out decorated fans. “Oh, hello,” Violet said. “We weren’t aware Riddle was bringing a guest.” 

“You’ll just have to put up with me then, I guess.” Riddle pulled out her chair and, with a surge of confidence and a sideways glance at the three girls, (Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek. (Y/N) smiled at the shocked gasp they let out as Riddle’s face turned red. She couldn’t help but reveal in Dr. Rosehearts’ glower as Mr. Rosehearts discreetly smiled into his tea. “So, how close is this to the unbirthday parties at school?” 

“An unbirthday party?” Lily said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” 

“If by juvenile you mean really fun and a great excuse to dress up then yes, I suppose it is.” Under the table, Riddle squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, in warning or thankfulness she wasn’t sure. The three girls looked at eachother, flicking and fluttering their fans with precise motions. 

A waiter brought a pot of tea to the table which he dutifully poured in everyone’s delicate tea cups. Another waiter brought a high stacked tower with tiny cakes and sandwiches. (Y/N) tried to cut down on her abrasiveness for the rest of the tea, not wanting to make Riddle uncomfortable. Although, to her it seemed the three other girls were doing a great job of that on their own. When they weren’t speaking to each other about him without his input, they chatted about things that had been happening in Dinah during the social season, then acted surprised when neither (Y/N) or Riddle could contribute to the conversation. 

After a while, and two pots of tea, Riddle excused himself. A tense silence dropped over the table like a heavy curtain. The three girls continued casting knowing glances at each other, snapping and waving their fans. 

(Y/N) spread her hands on the table. “Look, I know just enough about fan language to know you’re talking about me, but not enough to know what you’re saying. So if you have something you want to say you might as well come out and say it.” 

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?” Rose said with a sniff. 

“Among many other things.” 

“We were just wondering,” Violet said smoothly. “About your pedigree. It’s unusual enough to have a girl attending an all boys school, so we surmised you must have a particular magical talent.” 

“We all attend Lady Dormouse’s Finishing School, you see,” Lily said with a saccharine smile. “It’s a far more… elegant education.” 

“Well, I don’t know about elegant,” (Y/N) said, pointedly ignoring Rose’s smirk when she said under her breath, “Clearly.” “But Night Raven College is a great place. Sure, it’s a minefield half the time and considering I can’t do any magic so half of the assignments are almost impossible, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made amazing friends there, and, of course, I got to meet Riddle. That’s the best part.” (Y/N) smiled wistfully. 

The girls across from her all dropped their jaws at once. “You can’t use magic?” Violet gasped. 

“Surely you know a simple zephyr spell? Or can light a candle?” Lily asked. 

“Nope, not a thing. Don’t have one drop of magic in my whole body.” At this point it almost felt like a mark of pride. And she was beginning to relish the shocked expressions people made. 

Violet reached forward and gently touched the back of (Y/N)’s hand. “You poor thing,” She said, voice breaking. Rose had pushed herself as far back in her chair as she could, as if magiclessness was contagious. (Y/N) could practically see the gears turning in Lily’s head as she considered such a thing being possible. 

(Y/N) looked out the window to the courtyard, trying to avoid Violet’s overly sympathetic gaze. She perked up when she saw a few uniformed staff members setting up small white arches in the grass. A flock of pink flamingos waddled on tall, thin legs around the fountain. One of the staff members gently cradled a small wooden box where a hedgehog poked its nose out. 

“Hey, Riddle!” She called as Riddle walked back to their table. “Check it out, they’re setting up croquet! We should see if we can play.” 

Riddle’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, craning his neck to look out the window as the first round of players took their marks. He quickly looked back at his mother and schooled his face to a more serious expression. “That is, I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“Oh, I’d love a good game of croquet!” Rose said, clapping her hands. She stood, going over to Riddle and touching his shoulder in a way that made (Y/N) grit her teeth in annoyance. “I was the undisputed champion at Dormouse. You will play with us, won’t you, Riddle?” 

The group exited to the courtyard, Mr. Rosehearts quickly arranging for a game with the attendants. The girls had huddled around the green, watching the previous game. Riddle was looking down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers, pulling at the skin around his nails. 

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slinging her arm around Riddle’s shoulders. “I am here to make sure you have fun, fake relationship or not. So come on, let’s have fun! Plus, I have no idea how to play this game.” 

“Well,” Riddle said. “The first thing is to choose your flamingo mallet.” He effortlessly snatched a flamingo by the neck, turning it so he held the legs. The flamingo immediately went ramrod straight. 

“That doesn't bother them or anything, right?” (Y/N) asked, looking dubiously at the remaining flamingos. 

“Not at all. They’re specifically trained for this. Go on, try one.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) tried to replicate the quick movements Riddle had made when grabbing his flamingo. The bird she was aiming for dodged her hand. She grabbed again. Another miss. She heard the girls tittering with laughter. (Y/N) huffed, trying to snatch at the flamingo with both hands this time. The large bird squealed, flapping its large wings as (Y/N) wrestled it. The flamingo squawked and (Y/N) squawked back in defiance. Riddle quickly came to her rescue, grabbing the flamingo and performing the same practiced motion. The flamingo immediately went rigged, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the defiant glint in its eye. 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) mumbled, plucking stray feathers out of her hair. 

Riddle stifled a laugh behind his fist. “Not a problem. The rest of the game is pretty simple. You want to hit the hedgehog through the white pickets to the end of the lawn, then again on the way back. The fewest hits win.” 

“Right, sure. Sounds easy enough.” When Riddle went to take his first hit, (Y/N) whispered harshly to her flamingo mallet, “Don’t mess this up for me.” 

After the others had taken their turn, (Y/N) stepped up to the first hoop, her hedgehog rolled into a ball in front of her. She carefully angled her flamingo down, tapping the head against the small animal. ‘Just like mini-golf,’ She thought to herself and swung gently. She heard giggling from the spectators. She looked down, seeing her hedgehog in the exact same place. Only, no, it was about an inch to the left, away from where she had hit. She tapped her foot, swinging again, this time keeping her eye on the spiky ball. Yup, there, again, it rolled ever so slightly the other way. 

“My ball is cheating,” (Y/N) said, pointing at the innocent-looking hedgehog. 

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames their tools,” Dr. Rosehearts replied from the sidelines. 

“I don’t think that applies here, but sure,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

She squared her feet, tightening her grip on the flamingo’s legs. She tried a harder swing this time. It connected, sending the tiny hedgehog tumbling. Before (Y/N) could celebrate her victory, the animal swung out in a large arc away from the pickets, slowing to a stop right by Dr. Rosehearts’ feet. (Y/N) scowled, going over to stand by Riddle’s parents while the rest of the group took their turns for the second round. 

“You know,” Dr. Rosehearts said softly to (Y/N) when Mr. Rosehearts walked off to get some tea. “Lily’s father is a minister in parliament. She’s an especially accomplished pianist and frequently has requests from the royal theater company to play.” 

“MmHmm,” (Y/N) hummed. 

“Violet recently won first place in a national equestrian show jumping competition. Her father is a colleague of mine, an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother is a most accomplished florist.” 

“Neat.” 

“Rose is an absolute gem, of course. Extremely high marks with practical magic, and her embroidery has been displayed as far as the Sunshine Lands. She’s also wonderfully organized and an exemplary hostess. I can see her managing a fine house one day.” 

“Maybe, but Rose Rosehearts is kind of clunky, don’t you think? Or redundant? One of those.” 

Dr. Roshearts sniffed. “She also has a firm grasp on language and elegance.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something she knew she would probably regret when the referee called for her turn. Dr. Rosehearts inclined her head and took a step back, giving (Y/N) room to swing. 

“Alright,” (Y/N) said softly to the ball and mallet. “The arch this time.” 

She aimed, taking in a deep breath as she swung. She looked around the green, not seeing her hedgehog rolling towards or away. It also wasn’t stuck in its place at her feet. Suddenly, the flamingo began to writhe in her hands, flapping its large wings to bat fiercely at her face. She coughed on feathers, trying to hold the distressed animal as far away as possible. Peaking out from one eye, she saw the hedgehog clinging to the flamingo’s neck, climbing up and down while the bird desperately tried to escape its tiny claws. (Y/N) shook the bird, reaching out to try and dislodge the hedgehog. That only seemed to make it worse as both animals began to panic. The flamingo kicked out causing (Y/N) to drop it. With an unholy squawk, it leapt out of her hands, flapping and dancing, colliding right into the gawking Dr. Rosehearts. The red-haired woman shrieked, several hotel attendants coming to her rescue, trying to grab the flamingo. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Mr.  Rosehearts watching the whole spectacle with fascination from the tea cart. 

As the attendants apologized profusely to a fuming Dr. Rosehearts, (Y/N) made her way over to Riddle and the three gasping girls. “Well,” She said. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game.” 

~~~

When they got back to the townhouse, (Y/N) had another round of apologizing to Riddle. 

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” She said. She didn’t say she felt somewhat satisfied to see Dr. Rosehearts in distress, plucking stray feathers out of her hair and clothes the whole ride home. “I don’t know what I was doing wrong. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.” 

“I know it’s not your fault,” Riddle said, pulling off his tie. (Y/N) was sitting on the bed in his room as he watched her in the mirror on his bureau. “The hotel should have vetted their animals better.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan isn't going very well, is it?” Riddle faltered, dropping his tie. He turned around to look at (Y/N). Her mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, her eyes misty, and she clutched the duvet tightly. “Sorry. I really wanted to make you look good. I wanted to try and seem like the perfect girlfriend, but I just kind of made everything worse. I wanted to show you that I-” She suddenly cut herself off, looking up and meeting Riddle’s eyes. Her face grew hot and she looked away. “Sorry, don’t listen to me, I’m rambling.” 

More than anything, Riddle wanted to ask her what she was going to say. More than anything, he wanted to say something back, something that had been stuck in his mind well before he asked for her help in their plot. Something that made his heart speed up with her every kind word and action, that made him feel pleasantly light-headed whenever they were close, that caused his chest to fill with pride as she worked tirelessly to defend him during the trip. But his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He could still feel the iron-hot glare from his mother on the carriage ride back from the hotel. And, beneath it all, a simmering fear that their ploy was really just a ploy, that (Y/N) was just an exceptionally good actor, that there was no way she could feel the same way about him that he was realizing he felt about her. 

He tapped his foot, coming over to sit next to (Y/N) on his bed. “There’s a ball tomorrow night,” He said, not looking at her. “Mother, Father, and I are invited. Mother… asked if you would be alright remaining at home.” 

“Oh,” She said, and Riddle tried not to flinch back at her tone of voice. “No, yeah, I get it. Hey, I don’t even have anything to wear. So, yeah, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” Riddle said, his harshness even startling himself. He cleared his throat, starting again. “It’s unfair to you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here. This whole thing was a bad idea to begin with.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said again, another fractured syllable. She stood. “Well, yeah, fine. I guess the idea of us being together is a bad idea.” 

Riddle felt a jolt in his chest. “No, wait, (Y/N), that’s not what I-” 

“No, I get it. Why would someone like you want to be with someone like me in the first place? You’ve got a plan all figured out, right? NRC then internships then becoming a world famous doctor. And what do I have to offer you? I can’t do magic, I don’t have any family, I definitely don’t have any money, I have no idea what I’m even going to do over the summer break. And it’s not like I fit in with your world, anyway. Not just Twisted Wonderland, but the whole life you want for yourself. It’s fine, I get it.” She stood, pacing, hot and angry tears pricking her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath to steady herself before turning to Riddle face to face. “I won’t get in your way anymore. But I do want to say that you deserve better than how you’ve been treated. You’re not your mother. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are by yourself, not some mold other people try to put you in. You’ve worked so hard these past few months to be a better person and I- I just hope you find someone who recognizes that.” Without another word, (Y/N) rushed out of the room. She nearly collided with Dr. Rosehearts in the hall before muttering an “excuse me” before throwing herself in her room, locking the door. 

Dr. Rosehearts lifted her chin, walking the few steps forward to Riddle’s room. She didn’t bother knocking and just stepped inside. Riddle was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands. 

“I’m glad you’ve come to see reason, Riddle,” She vaguely praised. Riddle looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, checks flushed. “We’ll leave for your suit fitting in the morning. Don’t be late.” 

“Yes, Mother,” Riddle mumbled. The sound of his door clicking shut ricocheted around his ears. 

~~~

“I messed up,” (Y/N) said. “I really messed this whole thing up.” 

It was the next day. She’d barely slept the night before, not bothering to go down to dinner last night or breakfast this morning. Eventually, she heard the front door open and close, watching Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts board a carriage to go out. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and called Cater. 

“I mean,” He said. “It’s not the best, that’s for sure.” 

(Y/N) had called Cater after a moment of desperation, eager for someone to talk to and express her frustrations. She trusted Cater enough to know he wouldn’t immediately run off and tell everyone about the plan and would be patient enough to listen to her vent. He had also lent a sympathetic ear in the past when she had gotten overwhelmed by the strangeness of her new world and missing her old one. She could practically see him twist a lock of hair around his finger as he talked to her. “But it’s not all your fault. Riddle could have stepped in to help, you know.” 

“He’s just… under a lot of pressure here,” She said. “I guess I had this idea in my head of what it would be like. But, man, do I hate his mom.” 

“We all do, sweetheart.” 

“I feel like I kind of abandoned him, though. But he basically disinvited me from my last night here so how am I supposed to feel?” 

“Hmm. Do you know where the party is supposed to be tonight?” 

“At Rose’s place, bleh.” 

“Well, you could always crash it.” 

(Y/N) sat up. “Crash? I can’t do that, I’ve embarrassed him enough already.” 

Cater huffed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re both so blind I don’t know how you stand it.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you said the reason you went there in the first place was to help Riddle.” 

“I did - I am - but-” 

“And what? You’re just going to let one bad game of croquet take that from you?” 

“It wasn’t just that game, I-” 

“And we both know Riddle’s blind spots. Sure, he’s been better about all that rule stuff and chilling out here at school, but being back in the middle of all his trauma is different, you know?” 

“I - You know what? You’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right, I usually am.” 

“Riddle acts like he’s in charge all the time, I forget that we’re practically the same age. And everyone needs help, even when they’re too stubborn to admit it.” 

“Yes, exactly! Stubborn is practically Riddle’s middle name!” 

“Which means,” (Y/N) stood. “I’ve got to be stubborn back! If Riddle can’t ask for help then I need to be a good girlfriend and recognize he needs it and do my part!” 

(Y/N) could feel Cater’s smirk in his next words. “Ooh, his girlfriend, huh? I thought you were just pretending?” 

“Oh, you know what I mean. Thanks, Cater. I’ve got to go get ready. I have a party to crash!” 

“I’m going to need every detail when you get back!” 

(Y/N) quickly hung up, dialing another number. “Hi, Vil? It’s (Y/N). I have a really big favor to ask.” 

~~~

Riddle stared into his flute of sparkling wine, watching the few remaining bubbles rise and pop. It was flat by now and he hadn’t taken a single sip. The last rays of sunlight glowed gently against the surrounding townhouses that Riddle could see out the large bay windows of the ballroom. Couples twirled together along the floor to the elegant music from a string band. A long table was precisely set with way too much food, even given the substantial size of the party. His father mingled across the room with several other gentlemen from his club, doing his best to blend into the curtains. Riddle stood dutifully next to his mother who was speaking to Rose’s mother. Rose herself hovered next to him. He floated in and out of their conversation, only picking up about every fourth word. He wore a dark red velvet coat with a tight white starched collar that he kept tugging at to keep from strangling him. 

“And then,” Rose was saying. “Betty walks in with a yellow checkered parasol! Can you imagine? For an autumn leaf viewing picnic? Honestly, I’m surprised she had the nerve to stay around for as long as she did with that sort of faux pa.” 

“MmHm,” Riddle replied, swirling his glass causing a few errant bubbles to meander to the surface. 

“Really, the only thing that might have been more embarrassing is if she brought a chestnut tart! Oh, are you alright, Riddle?” 

Riddle coughed, clearing his throat as his face turned red. “Yes, fine, just remembering something unpleasant.” 

“Well, I’m not sure how you could think of anything unpleasant with me around,” She said, clutching his arm to pull him closer to her, batting her eyes. Her eyelashes were so long Riddle had a single terrifying impression of spider legs. 

Riddle cleared his throat again, more uncomfortable this time. “Yes, I can’t imagine.” 

Rose pouted and opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the round of gasps and murmurs that swelled from around the room. At the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, a footman was taking a dark traveling cloak from a newcomer. The cloak fell away to reveal the elaborate dress underneath it. The bodice was a rich crimson red with puffed sleeves at the shoulders, leading down to illusion sheer sleeves with tiny intricate beading twinkling down to the tight clasps at the wrists. The skirt bloomed out from the waist, layers upon layers of fabric resembling a large upside down rose. The red from the top continued down the skirt in an almost dripping effect, the rose petals turning white at the bottom as if they were being painted. The rose parted just at the knees to allow the wearer more freedom of movement, revealing sheer stockings with the same bead work. 

Riddle shoved his glass into Rose’s hands, ignoring her shocked look. He strode forward, cutting through the crowd. As the new figure descended the stairs, he met her, extending his hand to take hers. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, smiling gently at him. “I’m not too late, am I?” 

“No,” Riddle breathed. “You’re here just in time.” 

“Excuse me!” They both turned to see Rose and her mother coming over, frustration on Rose’s face and confusion on her mother’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Rose’s mother said, eyes darting to (Y/N)’s and Riddle’s held hand. “This is a closed party.” 

“She’s with me,” Riddle quickly said. He saw his mother furrow her brow and press her lips together. He continued, meeting her gaze. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. She’s my guest.” 

There was another small round of exclamations around the room. Rose crossed her arms while her mother blinked in confusion. “Oh, well, then please, by all means, welcome.” 

(Y/N) bobbed a curtsy, “Thank you.” 

“Would you like to dance?” Riddle asked. 

(Y/N) smiled and Riddle felt like his heart would explode. “I’d love to.” He led her to the dance floor. The band, which had paused at her entrance, started up again with a waltz.“I should warn you,” (Y/N) whispered to him as they took their place. “I have no idea how to do any of this.” 

“That’s alright. Just follow my lead.” 

“Riddle, I’d follow you through the Land of Ghosts and back if you asked me to.” Riddle tripped over his own feet, (Y/N) catching him in a spin and laughing. 

“I like your dress,” Riddle said, trying to regain his composure. “I didn’t see it before.” 

“Thanks, it’s a loner. I have friends in high places. Vil, I mean Vil.” 

Spectators watched the couple in a not at all elegant dance across the floor. “Oh, Victoria,” Another socialite's mother said, coming up to her. “You must be so proud. She seems like such a lovely girl. And Riddle looks so happy!” 

“Indeed,” Dr. Rosehearts replied with a steely stare at the couple. She noticed the flush on Riddle’s cheeks, his eyes closed as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said. (Y/N) took a wrong step back, bumping into another couple dancing behind them. She watched them apologize, (Y/N) saying something to the other couple that made them laugh and wave a pleasant goodbye. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth, nose screwing up in frustration. 

The song ended and Riddle and (Y/N) exited the dance floor. They’re faces were both flushed, glowing underneath the chandelier lights. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she watched Riddle, a rare genuine smile across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always tell when it was a sincere smile whenever a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows leaning to his left eye. She wondered what it meant that she had studied his face so intently to notice that. 

Dr. Rosehearts interrupted the conversations happening around her by walking away, striding with her head held high to Riddle and (Y/N). (Y/N) noticed her first, taking a side step closer to Riddle and meeting the older woman’s stare with unabashed defiance. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth again. 

“Riddle,” Dr. Rosehearts said. Riddle jumped, just now noticing his mother’s presence. His body immediately stiffened, shoulders going back to make a conscious effort to stand straighter. “Lewis and Carol were looking for you.” She waved her hand over to the other side of the ballroom. “I thought I might have a chat with (Y/N).” 

Riddle started to stutter a response before (Y/N) laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” She said. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.” Riddle looked between the two women, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, before nodding hesitantly and going over to see his old middle school classmates. 

(Y/N) plucked a glass of cider from a passing waiter. She wondered briefly what the drinking laws were here. 

“Well,” Dr. Rosehearts said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance to an event you weren’t invited to.” 

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” (Y/N) said, swirling her glass. “I’m Riddle’s plus one. He wanted me here.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is very kind of him to humor you.” 

“Well, someone in your family needs to have a sense of humor, right?” 

“Hmph. Riddle has a plan, you know. He can’t be distracted by frivolities.” 

“You have a plan, you mean. Riddle can do whatever he wants. He’s exceedingly capable, smart, and an amazing mage.” 

“Thanks to my careful tutelage.” 

“Despite your ‘careful tutelage’ I’d say.” 

Dr. Rosehearts eyes flared. “You know nothing about my relationship with my son. My son.” 

“Oh, I know plenty.” 

“And I know my son. Believe me, your relationship, or whatever you want to call this, is just some passing fancy. He’ll get over it soon and come back to me with his senses intact.” 

“At least my relationship with him didn’t lead to his Overblot.” 

There was a snapping sound, a shatter of glass, and a gasp from across the ballroom. Riddle whirled around. His mother stood over (Y/N), her hand raised. (Y/N) clutched her cheek, already turning red from Dr. Rosehearts’ slap. 

“How dare you?” She shouted, now drawing every eye around the room. “My Riddle was perfectly fine until the moment you showed up at that school. He was obedient until you started influencing him!” 

“And that’s all that matters, right? That he is obedient to you. That he does whatever you say. He’s not your doll for you to play with, he’s a living breathing amazing person you just refuse to recognize has his own thoughts and life outside of you!” 

“I won’t take criticism from some magicless interloper who cavorts with fae and meddles with every aspect of a world she doesn't understand!” 

“Well, that’s just the beginning of your issues, isn’t it? You’re so stuck in your own head you refuse to recognize when you’re in the wrong and actively hurting the people around you!” 

Dr. Rosehearts took in a sharp inhale, raising her hand again. 

“Mother!” Both women turned to see Riddle rushing over to them. 

(Y/N) immediately blanched. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Riddle!” Dr. Rosehearts cut her off, jabbing a finger at (Y/N). “Control this wretched girl!” 

“I will do no such thing,” Riddle said defiantly, putting himself between his mother and (Y/N). He turned to her, lowering his voice. “Are you alright?” 

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He gave a decisive nod and turned back to Dr. Rosehearts. “Mother, you need to apologize.” 

Dr. Rosehearts gaped at him. “Me? Apologize to her?” 

“You’ve been nothing but hateful since (Y/N)’s arrived. She’s our guest and someone extremely important to me. You could at least have the common courtesy to be polite.” 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was cherry red. “How dare you speak to me like this! I’m your mother!” 

“And nothing she said was untrue!” Dr. Rosehearts flinched back. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to please you, to make you proud of me. I worked so, so hard. It crushed me, it destroyed me, that I couldn’t meet your impossible expectations! And I just thought that was how the world was, set in rigid rules, and anyone who couldn’t follow every last one was a bad person. I ruined friendships, I ruined myself, I almost ruined everything when I Overblot!” Another round of gasps rang from around the room. (Y/N) slipped her hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. He squeezed back, soldiering on. “I’m not a son to you, I’m a project! I’m some doll you parade around and pose however you want without any actual care for the damage you might do! (Y/N) has shown me I can be a better person, that I can be who I actually want to be! Except I have no idea who that person is because you’ve broken me into your specific mold for so long. She’s stayed by me, my friends have stayed by me, no matter what. For the first time in my life I feel content with myself, like I can actually breathe. And you act like that’s a bad thing.” Riddle was breathing hard, hot tears starting to spill from eyes. “Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to please you. I’ll never be good enough for you. And that’s fine. I don’t want to be. Now I just want to be good enough for myself. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Still holding hands, the two swept from the ballroom, the party goers parting for them like the Red Sea. 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was red with rage, eyes darting around the room from each pitying, concerned, and judging face of the attendants to her son’s retreating back. She was breathing hard, head fuzzy, vision going blurry around the edges. Stepping forward, she slid her hairpin from her perfectly maintained bun, a magestone embedded at one end. She took a solid step forward, pointing it at Riddle. “Riddle-!” 

“Victoria!” She froze at the sudden exclamation. She turned, seeing Mr. Rosehearts staring steadfastly at her. “That’s enough.” 

She stopped, looking down at her hand, at her wand, at what she was about to do. She gasped, dropping the wand so it clattered against the marble flooring. The sound echoed in her ears. 

~~~

It was starting to rain outside. Riddle shrugged off his jacket, holding it above the two of them to huddle beneath it. 

“I don’t think we would be able to take the carriage back,” He said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the townhouse anyway.” 

“No problem,” (Y/N) said, pulling her phone out of an invisible pocket. “Give me a second. Hi, Hornton? It’s (Y/N).” Minutes later, a private carriage from the Lorina Hotel was pulled alongside the cafe’s outside seating where Riddle and (Y/N) had taken up temporary shelter. “Friends in high places,” She said as they climbed inside. 

The two were quiet as the carriage rumbled on. They sat next to each other on the bench seats. Riddle leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as she rubbed circles in the back of his hand. They exited soon after at the hotel, a doorman holding an umbrella over their heads as they rushed inside. 

At the front desk, the concierge and manager were talking in animated whispers, jolting up to paste on bright smiles as the two approached the desk. “Hello!” The manager said, a little too enthusiastically. “Checking in under Draconia?” 

“Yup, that’s us,” (Y/N) said, holding Riddle close. “Two rooms, please.” 

“Ah, well, of course, you see,” The manager stuttered. (Y/N) suspected they didn’t often get calls from foreign royalty as it was throwing the poor man off this game. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned to his majesty on the phone, we only have one room left available.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s a double that will work fine, too.”

The manager cringed. “It’s a single bed, Miss.” 

“Ah.” (Y/N) said, head starting to spin. She tried to quickly problem solve in her head. Could she call Horton back and ask him to make reservations somewhere else? Or would that be rude? Just the thought of going back to the Rosehearts townhome made her skin crawl. 

“It’s fine,” Riddle said. “We’ll take it.” The manager looked relieved as he handed over the keys. “I’ll need to make a phone call as well, to have our things brought here in the morning. Do you have anything we could use for the night?” 

“Of course, sir! Please, take it with our compliments.” 

They handed over two sets of monogrammed gray pajamas. A bellhop led them to the elevator, pushing the button to their floor. 

“I guess you’re right,” Riddle said. “It does pay to have friends in high places.” 

For some reason, that comment, along with the building stress of the night, broke the tight bundle of nerves (Y/N) had lodged in her chest. She started giggling, not being able to stop or catch her breath. Riddle soon followed, both of them almost doubled over with impractical laughter. They continued to their room, a patron from next door sticking his head out at the noise. Their laughter died down when they came into the room, both setting eyes on the single bed at the center. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” (Y/N) said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. Riddle just nodded, tearing is eyes from the bed and trying very hard to look anywhere else. 

In the bathroom, (Y/N) peeled off her dress, feeling kind of bad about haphazardly throwing it over the towel rack to hang. She turned the water on to almost scalding, letting it rush over her in an attempt to beat the chill that had settled in her bones, only partially from the rain. After her shower, she changed into the provided pajamas. They were warm and soft against her skin. She hesitated before exiting the bathroom. 

Riddle jumped when she came out, and she wondered if she should have knocked first. She saw he had pulled the duvet and one of the massive pillows off the bed, laying them out on the floor. “You can take the bed tonight,” He said. “I’ll sleep here.” Without waiting for her protest, Riddle went into the bathroom locking it behind him. She soon heard the sound of rushing water from the shower. 

‘Well, that’s not very fair,’ She thought. She drug off the remaining blanket from the bed and the other pillow, creating her own spot on the opposite side on the floor. Riddle was the one who just had his whole world tossed around. It was only fair if he got the bed for the night. A few minutes later, Riddle left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked confused at (Y/N) on the floor on her side of the bed. 

“I’d say you can take the bed,” (Y/N) said. “But I know you’re too stubborn and chivalrous for that. So I’ll stay down here too. That way we’re even.” 

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Riddle said. 

“I want to.” 

Riddle stared at her. (Y/N) could almost see the thoughts turning in his head. He nodded once, going over to his side of the bed and laying down on the improv sleeping mat. (Y/N) reached up and switched off the light. A soft glow from the street lamps came in through the window, the rain softly padding against the glass. (Y/N) could see Riddle through the space under the bed. He was staring straight up, hands clasped tightly against his stomach. 

“Riddle-,” She started. 

“I’m glad I said it. I think I’ve been wanting to say all of that for a long time now. And I don’t think I would have been able to if you weren’t there, if I didn’t know I had your support. So thank you.” 

(Y/N) thought hard, turning his words over in her head. ‘Screw it,’ She thought. She got up, dragging her blanket and pillow with her. She went over to Riddle’s side of the floor/bed, dropping her stuff next to him and laying back down. She turned on her side to look at him, meeting his wide confused eyes. 

“Riddle, I think I’m in love with you.” Riddle sputtered, choking on air, but now that she had started, (Y/N) knew she had to power through. “I mean, I’ve never really been in love with someone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. My feelings for you, I mean. It started off with just really admiring you. I know the beginning of the year was really tough and I can’t imagine what it was like to go through all of that. But ever since you’ve been working so hard, and I can see that, everyone can see that. You’re smart and brave and stubborn as hell, which I got to admit I kind of like. I love how I can tell when you get genuinely excited about something or that smug grin you get when you’re right about something. You’re a great house warden and a good friend. Not to mention you’re really cute. So, yeah. I just needed to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Or you don’t want to give me an answer right now. I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in her chest. The silence of the room was only broken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.  

“(Y/N)?” Riddle said softly. (Y/N) turned on her side so the two of them were facing each other again.  “You know I’m not good with talking about my feelings. I still have a hard time deciphering them myself, to be honest. But one thing I’m absolutely certain about is how I feel about you. I love you. I have to admit, I had ulterior motives when I asked you to come with me for this. I thought maybe it would be some sort of test run for an actual relationship, which now, saying it out loud, I realize how awful that sounds, and I’m sorry. I love how I feel around you, like I can be the greatest person in the world. I love how kind you are, how ready to jump into action, how ready you are to help no matter what. I love how steadfast and brave you are in what must be a terrifying situation, not knowing anything about your surroundings or having the same tools as all of us to combat it. And you’ve basically taken on raising Grim by yourself which I know can’t be easy with having that extra responsibility all of a sudden on top of everything else. I know I might not be the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, like you said, and I can get angry easily. Obviously my family is a complete mess. But, I hope, despite everything, you can still accept me for who I am and for who I want to be.” 

“Riddle, I already said I love you. Of course I accept you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Despite how flustered it made him, Riddle wouldn’t want to be pried out of each other’s arms as they fell asleep for anything in the world. 

~~~

It was sunny the next morning, the rain from the night before lending a pleasant coolness to the air. Staff from the Rosehearts’ townhouse had dropped off Riddle and (Y/N)’s packed bags that morning and the newly formed couple was getting ready to head back to their starting point for the Magic Mirror to bring them back to school. (Y/N) tried to buy some fancy chocolates from the hotel for the boys back at NRC, but the manager and staff had shoved the boxes into her hands at no charge. 

“Compliments to friends of the Draconia family!” He had said. 

As they got ready to head out, they heard someone call from behind them, “Riddle!” 

They turned around, seeing the Rosehearts’ carriage come down the street, Mr. Rosehearts leaning out of the window, waving. He jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop, jogging over. 

(Y/N) took a step in front of Riddle. “Do you want me to deal with it?” She asked. 

“No, it’s fine,” He said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Riddle left his bags with (Y/N), who watched Mr. Rosehearts’ approach with a critical eye, and walked over to meet his father. “Father. I’ll be heading back to school soon. I don’t want to be late.” 

“Right, of course, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He seemed nervous, not meeting his son’s eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, Riddle.” 

Riddle blinked. “Apologize?” 

“Yes, and it’s a long time coming. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good father to you. I saw the kind of stress your mother put you under, how controlling it could be. And I ignored it. I should have been better for you, stood up for you more. You’re my son, Riddle, and I love you. But I haven’t acted like it for a long time. I hope, one day, we can start again and you can forgive me.” 

“I-” Riddle was at a loss for words. “I can’t say it will be soon, but I appreciate you saying that. I hope you can understand.” 

Mr. Rosehearts smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll go on your time.” 

Riddle looked back at the carriage. “Is Mother here?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “No, she’s still at home. We’re actually going to… spend some time apart for the foreseeable future.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s for the best. I’ll be out at the country estate if you need anything.” He winked and whispered conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get into ornithology. I hear there’s a rare variant of the jubjub bird in the area I’ve been dying to get a look at.” 

The two separated, Mr. Rosehearts to his carriage and Riddle to (Y/N). “You okay?” She asked. 

“Fine. I think things might be looking up, actually.” 

She bumped him with her hip. “Well, you’ve got a super cool new girlfriend now, so I sure hope so.” 

Riddle chuckled, linking their arms together. They stepped back through the portal to school, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations would come next, they would face them together. 

[gureumz]

grateful sinners

rating: explicit

member: jake

premise: growing up in a religious community (a cult?), you and your friend jake stumble upon "forbidden" media one day. of course, you know about sex but what the elders taught you was never this dirty. overcome with curiosity, you promise each other to never speak of what you're about to do to anyone.

notes: religious themes, implied cult behavior, slight (?) blasphemy, virgin!jake x virgin!reader, fem!reader, friends to lovers (?), first time, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, desperate touch-starved, jesus loving virgins tryna fuck

a/n: third of my 1k follower special! can you tell i have deep religious trauma? lmaoooo but this was rlly fun to write, if not a little tedious but i enjoyed it nonetheless! hope you do, too &lt;3

the day was as beautiful as any other.

the early morning sun peeking behind the nearby hill, the smell of wet grass, the gentle breeze blowing through your hair.

you breathe in more of the valley air, letting your eyes close for a moment. everything is so still, hours and hours before the first worship of the day when the whole commune will surely come fully alive. at this moment, you're sure you're closer to God than ever.

a whispered prayer breaks the silence.

"i do not deserve such beauty before me, God," you mumble, eyes still closed. "but you are most merciful and i, a grateful sinner."

a silence, still. nothing or no one responds to your profession of gratitude, but that is to be expected. God works silently, as the elders say.

"i'm deciding if the beauty is on the horizon in front of us or in your face, ________," a voice breaks through, shattering the tranquil veil that envelops you.

you turn and you can't help the jolt in your chest. you grin widely and jake smiles back, hands in his pockets and his pants already soaked with morning dew from the grass.

"don't say that," you warn. "my mom might hear."

jake makes a show of looking around, gazing past you at the squat houses sitting peacefully without movement.

"i don't see her," jake says with a shrug. you laugh.

"you know how she hates it when people make light of God's word. your jokes are definitely her least favorite," you remind him, stepping closer.

jake eyes you. being noticeably taller and broader, it gives him the perfect view of your face as the dawn sun hits your delicate features.

his hair is messy, partly sticking to his forehead with the other half of his raven locks hanging over his eyes. you know his father would berate him for that. children of the pastor are expected to appear presentable in front of the whole commune as a way to honor God and his divine image.

but the commune is nowhere to be seen. it's just you looking.

and jake is used to you looking.

growing up together, with his mom and yours being close friends, your mother's unwavering devotion to the commune, and her undying support to jake's father's cause as pastor, it's no surprise that the two of you have been inseparable.

despite the clear division between the men and women of the commune, you and jake always found your way to each other. sneaking in glances, waving from afar before you start mass, and even despite your own mother's prudish ways, you know she felt at ease when jake was around you.

nothing has been said, but you're sure that when both of you reach the age of matrimony, you'd be wed to each other. you have to be.

"what are you doing out here so early?" you continue with a question, resisting the urge to toy with the wisps of hair on jake's temples.

you're forbidden to touch or be touched by any man that isn't your family. the only exception to this is his father, the pastor, free to lay his healing hands upon anyone he deems in need of it.

jake parts his lips to answer but pauses, as if choosing the appropriate thing to say.

"some of my friends and i wanted to hang out by the river," jake supplies, gesturing toward the general direction of the river just beyond the hill.

"doing what?" you ask. the men are usually tasked with heavy farm work in the morning. in your mind, a leisurely stroll by the river before all that labor seemed hardly reasonable.

jake hesitates again, now toying with his bottom lip, the plump, rosy skin growing even redder with every pinch jake delivers to it.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," you say, flashing jake a reassuring smile.

"i'm not lying," jake replies almost instantly, a nervous spark in his eyes. "we really were by the river. we were...looking at something."

you cock your head to the side. jake comes even closer and the hairs on your arm stand on end, the faint scent of jake's sweat and soap reaching your nose. if you reach out now, you could easily wrap both arms around him, pull him close, and never let go.

"jay's dad brings our harvest to the nearby city market, right? well, jay went with him yesterday and he nicked this...book or something from the gas station," jake rambles, fidgeting with his fingers.

your eyes widen.

"it was glossy and the pages smelled nice. we don't have those kinds of books here, don't we?" jake continues, but your ears have started ringing in alarm.

"jay stole? jake, you know he needs to confess and repent," you whisper, taken aback.

jake gives you a look and you nearly tremble at the intensity in his irises. without warning, jake lets his fingertips graze your arm, instantly pulling away right after. you flinch, cradling your arm against your chest as if you've been burned.

"it's wrong, i know, but...haven't you thought of breaking the rules, even once? some of the people here talk about all the exciting things they've seen or done before, all because they broke one small rule. do you ever stop to think that it could be...fun?" jake questions, voice low. his eyes are wide and shaking, darting to and fro as if committing your whole face to memory.

"i—," you begin, unsure of what to say. you have thought of asking, even begging your mom to let you out into the city for one day. to see all the outsiders and their strange clothes and loud music.

but you could never go through with it. your mom would tell the pastor of your sinful curiosity the minute the words would leave your mouth.

"stealing is not breaking one small rule," you protest.

jake huffs out a breath. "aren't you tired of all of this? all of this forbidden stuff?"

you shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the words coming out of jake's mouth.

"your father's the pastor, jake," you say, voice trembling. "how could you..."

"the book had these pictures," jake cuts in, voice picking up as if it excited him to recount what he saw.

"the women in the book...they were naked."

you take a step back, clamping a hand down on your mouth.

"jake, what's gotten into you?" you question, heart beating wildly.

"i just want to know about the outside world, ________," jake reasons, running a hand through his hair.

"it's not as bad as the elders make it out to be," jake continues. "i haven't burst into flames, have i?"

you merely stare, uneasy at how blatant jake is about his sinful acts.

"do you want to see? i could borrow it from jay," jake offers, voice dropping to an even quieter whisper.

you stand there, a million different thoughts running through you. in all honesty, you wanted to take a look, never having seen any naked body other than your own. but even now, knowing that she was nowhere near, you could feel your mother's burning gaze on you. disappointed, intimidating, warning you to be a good child of God or face the wrath of hell.

you know this is wrong, or so you've been told. jake is treading a dangerous path and he seems adamant on roping you along. and yet...

"yes," you answer before you could stop yourself.

"b-but wait! how are you going to show me? we have to be careful," you hurriedly add, glancing around in case anyone was near enough to hear the atrocities you and jake are talking about.

"there's a secret back room in one of the barns. i go there to rest during breaks or after work and no one else ever goes there," jake hurriedly says, crowding back into your personal space. you notice the slight shake in his hands and the way his ears redden.

"o-okay," you say with a nod. "when?"

"later tonight," jake offers.

"during supper, we can sneak out while everyone else eats," jake continues. you feel his fingers on your arm again and this time, jake lets his whole hand flatten against the sleeve of your dress, his warmth seeping down to your skin.

you gasp, but stay frozen. jake's other hand lays on your waist and you shake uncontrollably, both terrified and excited at the prospect of jake touching you.

jake pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours. he's breathing just as hard as you.

"you know, i thought about...if you would look the same as the women in the book," jake murmurs, eyes closed.

you shiver. you should be appalled, disgusted by how jake is acting now, but all you feel is a warm, bubbling feeling in your abdomen and an insatiable itch to clutch at jake's clothes.

"jake, we can't—," you begin, but the deep toll of the church bell interrupts you, signaling the start of the day.

you and jake spring apart, knowing that the whole commune would be outside in a matter of minutes, heading off to their designated duties for the day.

before you could get another word in, jake rushes forward, kissing you. you gasp, but as if on instinct, your hands grasp at his face. a second later, you thread your fingers through his hair, the strands offering little resistance as you gently tug, just as you've always dreamed of doing. but as quickly as it started, jake pulls away, pushing you back at the same time.

"tonight," jake breathes out, walking backward. "at dinner. the last barn to the left."

you nod once, pausing for a moment as you watch jake tread further away from you. you wave before sprinting toward your house.

your mother would be in the kitchen. you would be assigned with peeling the oranges. or cooking the eggs. or buttering the toast.

to you, at this moment, it didn't really matter.

all your eyes could see, all your heart could feel is jake.

---

dinner was a tense affair.

your mom questioned your uncharacteristic early start this morning, and all you could do was supply a pathetic lie about wanting to see the rose garden started by some of the older women in the commune.

she made a point to warn you to be on time for dinner. you felt an uneasiness settle in your stomach at this, thinking of all the ways your and jake's plan could go wrong.

but rushing out of the mess hall now, legs pumping as you dash through the field toward the barns, all of your worries melt away.

you remember the kiss, jake's fingers digging into your side, his smooth hair in between your fingers.

having separate dining halls for the men and women, you weren't sure when jake would be there, but you decided you had to leave as soon as you can. you feigned a stomachache to your mother, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you knew this was yet another lame excuse, but you went the rest of the day without seeing jake. you were subjected to teach the younger ones about scripture today at the school, but all you wanted was to feel jake again. to see him. to touch him.

you slow down as you approach the barns, jogging over to the last one to the left. your breathing is heavy, beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. another shiver of excitement goes through you as you push the barn door open.

the barn is one of the unused ones, a single light turned on at the very back. you walk toward the dim bulb, the glass-encased fluorescent hanging precariously by a thin wire.

you realize quite belatedly that jake never gave any specifics on how to find the secret room. but just then, you hear a faint shuffle to your left. despite the darkness, you can make out the faint outline of a head peeking out from behind a stack of hay.

"jake," you whisper, crossing the space between you in long strides.

jake emerges from the shadows, an easy smile on his face.

"it's back here," jake ushers you behind the tower of hay, his hand easily finding yours. "hurry, before anyone sees us."

you tighten your grip on jake's hand, the same feeling of exhilaration building up within you. you watch as jake approaches the section of the wall that's hidden behind the hay, pulling open a flimsy door that's half your height, cleverly disguised as part of the wall. inside, you can barely make out the soft flickering of candlelight.

jake nudges you forward. "it's a tight squeeze but it's comfortable enough inside."

you crouch, laying your hands on the dirt floor to steady yourself. you scurry forward through the door and emerge on the other side.

the space inside the room is enough for two, tall enough for you to stand in. you straighten up, dusting yourself off. jake follows inside, shutting the door behind him.

you look around and spot a metal box in one corner next to the single candle burning. a blanket is spread out on the ground.

"here," jake says, pulling you gently towards the blanket. you sit down, perching yourself right across jake.

jake takes hold of the metal box, unlatching the lid. inside, you can see a number of trinkets and other objects.

"are those...cigarettes?" you ask in disbelief. jake chuckles, brandishing the red and white box.

"found them in dad's safe," jake replies nonchalantly. "this one, too."

jake holds up a glossy rectangle, flipping it so it faces you. you let out an audible gasp.

"a phone? but we're not allowed phones," you say, letting jake place the device on your palm.

"i know. but that's my dad's. you know how the elders are the only ones allowed phones. so, i took his." jake is grinning now, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across his handsome face.

"but, how? doesn't he notice? what's in it?" you rattle off, turning the phone over in your hands.

"i bring it back every night once i'm done exploring what's inside," jake explains. he reaches over, pressing a button on its side. a moment later, it lights up, momentarily blinding you with how close you're holding it to your face.

you stare in awe as the screen comes alive. it dims after it fully turns on, displaying in big, blocky letters the time of night.

6:51

supper would be over soon.

jake takes the phone from you, setting it down on the blanket between you two.

"we can look at that later," jake reassures. "i got the book from jay at lunch today."

you swallow as jake pulls out the book from the very bottom of the box. jake moves the candle closer and your eyes instantly go wide.

the front of the book is glossy, indeed, just like jake said it would be. but the woman pictured on it seemed too lifelike, as if she wasn't merely printed on paper. her tan skin is on full display, with nothing covering her body but a bathing suit, one you've seen outsiders wear the few times you've seen pictures of them.

the bathing suit is black, the neckline going down almost to her stomach. you see the side of her breasts peek out from the garment holding it in place, and from what you can see, her whole back seems to be bare.

your eyes drift down to her crotch, covered by a thin strip of fabric. she stands, legs apart, her hands on her waist, baring her entire naked body to the world.

the longer you stare, the hotter you feel. an ache between your legs starts to make itself known.

"there's even more inside," jake whispers, sidling up to you. he presses his shoulder against yours as he reaches over to flip the book open.

your eyes scan the text on the next page, coming across a word you don't hear or see often.

"magazine," you mumble. a memory pings in your head.

"mom told me about magazines. this is a magazine," you say in mild amazement. "she says they're full of lies and are forbidden in the commune."

"magazine," jake repeats, drawing out the word slowly. he flips through more pages, stopping at one with a woman pushing her naked chest out.

your heartbeat quickens. you trace your finger over the picture, passing over the image of her plump breast, perky with a pinkish hue around the nipple.

you recall the science classes at the school. the teacher had recited the parts of the woman's body in a flat, monotonous voice. nipple. areola. vagina. cervix. she drilled it in everyone's head that these parts are not to be said aloud outside of the classroom.

"mine doesn't look like that," you comment absentmindedly. "they're not as...round."

you look up to see jake staring intently at you. his eyes drift down to your chest and you feel a new wave of heat wash over you.

jake licks his lips as he shifts closer, and as if compelled by his own actions, you do the same, facing jake fully.

you touch the buttons on the front of your dress.

you know what you're about to say and do next is beyond sinful. but you've already crossed the line the second you laid your eyes upon the magazine. a strange desire bubbles up inside you.

"do you want to see?" you ask quietly, watching jake's expression carefully.

"can i?" jake asks back, peering into your eyes. you can smell him again, faint lavender adding to the mix of his scent. you imagine jake in the bath, naked, water and bubbles washing over his skin.

you shudder involuntarily.

"yes," you breathe out.

you start to undo your dress, hands shaking. you've never done this before. you're forbidden to. you know God watches you now with disdainful eyes, but you can hardly find it in you to care.

you undo the last button, pulling the sleeves of your dress down and off your arms. the night is chilly and you shiver as the air meets your skin.

unmarried women in the commune are advised not to wear bras as they are still considered pure and innocent and in no need of such womanly garments.

so you sit, barechested in front of jake, shaking in the cold, in anticipation, in mild fear.

jake's jaw goes slack, taking in the image in front of him. he glances back at the magazine before returning his gaze to your own breasts. you resist the urge to cross your arms.

instead, you reach over, delicate fingers wrapping around jake's wrists. you guide them up, stopping right above your waiting chest.

"here," you whisper, but your voice sounds strangely loud in the silence of the night. "touch me, jake,"

you place his hands over your mounds and you gasp at the abrupt warmth. jake chews on his lip, fingers softly kneading your skin.

"do you touch yourself like this?" jake asks, eyes still wide in amazement and curiosity. he gives a light squeeze and you whimper, covering your mouth to stop yourself from crying out.

"sometimes," you say, voice slightly muffled behind your palm. "in the bath. when no one's looking."

jake exhales, pulling his hands back momentarily. he lines his pointer finger with your nipples, flicking up experimentally. you groan, throwing your head back.

"it feels good," you breathe out. "jake, it feels good all over."

jake pinches your nipples and you yelp, falling forward against jake. he catches you, cradling you to his chest. you breathe onto his neck, a warm stickiness pooling under your skirt.

"touch me, too," jake says right in your ear. he guides your hand on his crotch and your fingers curl around something stiff.

"please," jake implores, voice high and almost whining.

you watch in fascination as jake strains against his trousers. you caress up and down, feeling him harden even more under your touch. jake squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"sit over me," jake commands, pulling you onto his lap. there's a loud roaring in your ears as something overtakes your body completely.

"keep touching me and i'll do the same," jake instructs, returning his hands to your chest. he curls his fingers into your flesh and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

you take ahold of jake through his pants, squeezing and rubbing. jake is bucking into your hand, small breaths escaping his lips.

your head is spinning, your cheeks are flushed, and a faint guilt tugs at your chest. but you've thrown all care out the window, the only thing on your mind being jake's rough fingers tugging and pinching and grabbing at your breasts.

the bubble of heat in this little room breaks when you hear the dark notes of the church bell ringing, marking the end of supper.

you gasp, pulling away from jake as he does the same. you hurriedly button up your dress, trying to calm your breathing. jake gathers the things strewn on the floor, tossing them back into his box.

you stand, smoothing down your dress and tucking your hair back behind your ear. no words are spoken as jake blows the candle out, pushing the door open to free both of you.

you scramble out of the small space, heart still pumping wildly against your chest. you feel jake's hand rest on one side of your face, urging you to look at him.

"meet me by the river early tomorrow," jake says, now holding your face with both hands.

you blink, unsure of what to say. the rush of blood is still loud in your ears and all you want is for jake to touch you again. to keep touching you.

to touch you forever.

"please," jake adds, running his thumb over your bottom lip. you quiver at the action, stilling only when you feel him press his lips against yours.

your lips part and so does his, and as if guided by something else, your tongues move into each other's mouths, licking and sucking and breathing into and from each other.

you feel dirty, sinful even. but you start to wonder why you cared so much in the first place.

"tomorrow," jake repeats, pulling away.

the bells toll even louder. you run out of the barn without a second thought, eyes dancing with excitement, lips tender, and one single button of your dress undone.

---

you toss and turn all night.

flashes of jake invade your mind, pulling you out of sleep just as you feel yourself drifting. the way he breathed against your face. the stiffness in your hand. the pleading in his voice.

you prayed, too. prayed to God for forgiveness, for mercy. but you prayed for jake, too. to feel his lips again, to have his hands on other parts of your body.

you cry, quietly and pathetically, ashamed in the face of God. ashamed because the arousal hasn't left you. it burns almost painfully and you wish and you pray and you beg for morning to come.

you glance at the clock next to your bed and see that it's half past five a.m. you ran into jake at six yesterday, so he should be at the river by now if you're to go off of that.

you quickly dress yourself, careful to keep your movements precise and quick so as to not wake anyone in your house.

you practically float down the stairs on your toes, nimbly avoiding all the loose floorboards you know would make a sound.

you steal one glance back inside your house before taking off. you walk at first, trying to calm your nerves, but you build up to a run once you pass through the fence's gate, feeling the morning air whipping at your face.

the climb up the hill, usually a strenuous effort on your end, seems like nothing on this day, your legs taking you over it in no time.

you can see the river now, and you see the faraway figure of someone hunched over, sitting on the riverbank. excitement rips through you and you're running, running faster than you've ever had.

jake hears you before he sees you, your breathing loud and labored and your boots stomping against the wet grass. he turns to see you slowing down to a jog as you approach him.

he stands, wordlessly meeting you as you sink into his arms.

you kiss and the roar of desire is back, a single flame flickering in the blue-hued, early-morning world that surrounds you.

jake pulls you towards an area behind a large tree, and you see that the same blanket from last night is laid out on the grass. without parting your lips, jake pulls you down with him on the spread-out cloth, laying you down.

"i watched things on dad's phone last night," jake admits, kissing your jaw. you squirm underneath him, his lips sending a ticklish sensation over you.

"i watched people do it," jake murmurs against your skin, lips dragging down your neck.

"i watched them make love."

you pull jake away from where he's kissing you behind your ear, a questioning look on your face.

"you can...watch people make love? on the phone?" you ask meekly, trying to understand how some people can let such a sacred act be seen by anyone other than themselves and God.

jake nods, hands smoothing up your sides. "yes. and they do it so loudly, so roughly, so vulgarly. not like how we're taught."

you stare, wide-eyed. "what?"

"they curse a lot," jake adds. "and they call on God's name so much. we're told to never do that unless in praise."

your breath hitches when you feel jake smooth his hands over your clothed chest. you feel your nipples stiffen under his touch.

"what if it felt so good to them, they needed to call on God?" you whisper. jake ponders on this for a moment, eyes scanning over your face.

"i want to feel as good as them," jake finally says. he starts to undo your dress, the same way you did last night.

"we're going to...to make love?" you ask as jake slots himself between your legs. you feel the same stiffness from last night press up against your thigh.

"please," jake responds, pulling your dress open. your nipples are taut, begging to be touched.

jake dips his head down, latching his mouth onto one of your nubs, sending your whole body spasming. you moan, a new kind of pleasure coursing through your veins. jake presses his hips onto yours, right between your legs and you nearly cry at how good the pressure feels.

you push your core against jake's own crotch, swiveling your hips around trying to find the delicious friction you felt.

"i want to, please. i want to, so bad," jake pleads against your chest.

jake bunches your skirt around your torso, exposing your lower half and the thin, white, commune-approved underwear you have.

"please," you whine, not even sure of what you're saying.

"me, too. make love to me, jake."

jake groans, sitting upright, hands already tugging at his belt. he undoes the buckle, unzipping his pants before pulling the garments down to his thighs.

you stare half in awe and half in curiosity as jake strokes himself a few times. a clear liquid spills from the tip and you feel your mouth involuntarily water.

"can i take this off?" jake asks, hooking a finger under the hem of your underwear. you nod, cringing slightly as you feel the sticky fabric pull away from your skin as jake discards of it.

"it's so wet," jake observes, reaching down to run a finger between your folds.

"ngh!" you cry out, twitching at the sudden contact. no one has ever touched you down there. you've never touched yourself down there other than to wash.

jake presses the pads of his fingers against your core, rubbing lightly. you throw your head back, thighs already shaking.

"does this feel good?" jake asks, pressing down harder. you nod again, unable to form any coherent thoughts or sentences.

"i saw that they did this," jake says before plunging a finger into your hole.

stars burst right before your eyes when you feel jake push his thick digit into you. the feeling is foreign, a weird pressure but pleasurable nonetheless.

jake pumps it in and out of you, observing your face as he does so. you open your eyes to meet his and you see jake's pupils blown wide, his whole face a light tint of pink.

"still good?" jake asks.

"yes," you gasp, your hips pushing off the ground as you try to chase more of this feeling.

"some of them...," jake begins, pausing his movements. you start to protest but your voice gets caught in your throat when you feel jake push in another finger.

"...use two."

a slight burn at the added stretch makes you wince, your hand coming down to grab jake's wrist.

"s-slowly," you supply, opening your legs wider. jake nods in understanding, moving his fingers at a gentler pace.

you mewl, feeling the drag of his knuckles against your inner walls. you're dizzy with pleasure, overwhelmed with the thought that something could feel this good.

"it keeps coming out of you," jake says in awe. "you're getting even wetter."

"it feels so good," you gasp. "jake, please."

"what should i do?" jake asks, leaning over you. you look up, jake's face right in front of yours. not knowing what else to do, you pull him down to you in a kiss.

jake moans against your lips, speeding up his movements in and out of you. you cry into the kiss, never wanting this feeling to end.

"i-i'll put it in," jake whispers into your mouth.

jake pulls his fingers out of you and you fight the instinct to whine. jake sits back on his heels, watching as you clench around nothing.

you see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of your dripping core, his hand coming down to pump at his shaft.

"it might hurt," jake warns. "that's what they told us."

you smile weakly. "us, too."

jake grins back at you, scooting forward to line himself up with you. jake presses the tip against your hole, watching for your reaction. he slides a little more in, and you let out a squeak.

"it's much bigger than your fingers," you say, with slight panic in your voice.

"i'm here," jake says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "you'll be okay."

you feel jake push in some more and your whole body jerks in surprise. tears prickle your eyes but you focus on evening out your breathing. underneath the evident sting, a steady throb of pleasure beats down in your core.

"it feels so warm," jake gasps out. "God help me."

jake sinks all the way in, unable to contain himself, and you bite down hard on your lip, feeling jake deep in you. you're afraid to move in case it starts to hurt more.

"f-fuck," jake curses, hips pulling back before sinking all the way in again. you cover your mouth with both hands, unsure of all the feelings you're having at the moment.

"i'm sorry," jake whispers, kissing your cheek, then your nose, then both of your eyes. "i-it feels too good."

"it's okay," you reply, trying to contain the tremor in your voice. "keep going. it feels better now."

and it does. the more jake moves, the more you could relax. jake hits a spot inside you that completely overrides the nearly unbearable stretch and it takes everything in you not to double over in surprise.

"again," you say. "just like that."

jake stops for a moment before repeating the angle in which he thrusted in you.

there it is again. a jolt of electricity goes through your abdomen and you shudder in delight.

"yes!" you cry out. "m-more."

jake picks up his speed, careful to keep it the same way you like it. it's as if the gates of heaven themselves have opened, showing you a world of pleasure you've never seen or experienced before.

the stretch has dulled now, and the fullness you feel adds to the coil in your stomach, tighter and tighter with each thrust.

you wrap your legs around jake's waist, wanting him, needing him closer.

jake lays himself over you, his chest pressed to yours, his hips moving nonstop. you've started to meet his movements, chasing something you're not quite sure exactly what.

"it does feel good," you manage to say between moans. "so good."

jake pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you.

"have you ever finished before?" jake questions. your eyebrows pinch together and you shake your head. jake slows down, grinding into you shallowly.

"finished?" you repeat.

"yeah, when you pleasure yourself, you finish," jake recounts. you shake your head again.

"we're not allowed to, remember? i've never touched myself that way," you admit bashfully.

"it's okay," jake reassures, kissing you softly. "you'll feel it here."

jake lays a hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down. you inhale, fingernails digging into jake's shoulder.

"move faster," you request. "but keep pressing there."

jake looks at you in bewilderment but follows nonetheless. he picks up his pace again, still keeping his hand on your stomach. you feel a pressure build up where jake is pressing and you feel your whole body shake.

"you're getting tighter," jake says through gritted teeth, trying to maintain his movements.

"s-sorry, feels too good," you apologize.

"i think i feel it," you add. "keep going, please."

this sends jake into a frenzy, hips snapping at a speed you can't keep up with. you let out a sob as you feel your entire being ignite with every push of jake's shaft in you.

"i can feel myself," jake points out. "i can feel myself through your belly, God."

the words confuse you but you look down to see jake protruding through your lower abdomen with every thrust. the sight sends your brain into overdrive and you moan your loudest as a white-hot current rips through you.

you vaguely hear jake groan as he roughly grabs your hips, keeping you in place. he pumps in and out of you a few more times before stopping. you continue to swivel your hips, squirming at the strange sensation that's taking over your body.

eventually, you relax, feeling strangely peaceful. you feel lightheaded but in the best way, as if you're floating on clouds.

jake grunts, pulling himself out of you. the sensation makes you cringe and you feel something drip out between your legs.

"is that—is that your seed?" you ask in mild disbelief, though still too out of it to care much.

"yeah," jake says, nodding, collecting the drops of himself that spilled out before poking his finger back in you.

"jake!" you protest, still much too sesitive.

jake pulls his finger out and grins at you. he settles beside you, pulling you onto his chest.

---

the church bell tolls not long after.

the early morning sun rises above the tree line, and if you were to stand on the other side of the hill, you would have watched the orange glow with amazement and bated breath.

there's a breeze that blows through your messy hair and the smell of morning dew on the grass is mixed with jake's lavender soap.

breathing in the valley air, another prayer falls quietly from your lips.

"we do not deserve your forgiveness," you say . "but you are most merciful and we, are merely grateful sinners."

[szasfuckingwife]

WHEN I LOOK IN YOUR EYES, I FEEL ALIVE

EX CONVICT!TOJI X MOM!READER

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, Toji has gone to prison, Toji fushiguro is a family man and wants his family back !!

SYNOPSIS: Toji being incarcerated fucked you and your daughter up badly, and when he’s released, you want nothing more than to hold him again.

A/N: i was listening to Blue by Beyoncé while writing this and she made that song for her daughter and I just felt the need to sob for some reason🥲 but yeah prisonbf! Toji missing his gf and kid fucks me up.

When Toji went to prison, you knew it was the end of your relationship. You warned him so many times that this would happened, even before you gave birth to your daughter. And, knowing Toji, there was no convincing him.

The court trial was the worst memory that comes to mind when talking about Toji. When the judge declared he was guilty, it wasn’t a shock to anyone, even Toji.

But it didn’t help that you were there, holding your two year old as police men took him away. Not once, during the whole ordeal, did Toji look back at you two, deciding it was too much to see his girlfriend and daughter who he loved so much get taken away from him. He’d probably break down right there if he looked back.

You cried so much that day, especially when getting told that he’d be facing five years. Even when your lawyer ensured that Toji would face a lot less if he behaves well in prison, it all went in one ear and out the other.

It had been a difficult two years, he’s missed out on so much. Such as, his daughter’s third and fourth birthday, you having a new job and the fact that you and that guys relationship was more serious than he thought.

He remembers when you told him about it. It was bittersweet due to the fact that you brought your daughter so Toji could see her. “Daddy!” She exclaimed, excited to see her dad even though it’s behind a poorly cleaned window. She was too excited to even speak through the telephone.

But Toji already knew. Toji knew his daughter loved him. He talked to her about school and smiled as his four year old talked about whatever she’d been doing for the past week. Except, she mentioned that her, mommy and ‘that man’ went to the park.

When his daughter said that, Toji looked at you only to see you looking away, embarrassingly. Despite his annoyance, the raven haired man kept smiling at your daughter, even more attentive than he was before.

You took the phone once your daughter was finished, “He’s just a friend from work.”

“Why don’t I know about this guy?” Toji asked whilst keeping his hand pressed up against the glass so his daughter could press her hand up too.

“Because it’s not that serious to be talking about.” You sigh. And you were right, it was a couple of dates and drinks but he didn’t make you feel things that Toji had made you feel. “Don’t do this, Toji, not here. Not in front of her.” Your daughter looks up at you, her hand still separated from her fathers due to the glass.

He scoffed, “Does he sleep over? You fuckin him now, is that it? In my bed, huh?”

You stayed silent, not wanting your daughter to hear you lash out. Toji grew even more annoyed at that, “You know that’s gonna upset her, right? She’s gonna think you’re replacing her dad. That shit isn’t fair, Y/N. You know I’m gonna be released soon.”

“And that’s supposed to make me roll out the red carpet for you? And forget that this shit ever happened?” You scoff. Toji opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again choosing to let you talk. “I’ve missed you so much. She misses you so much. Do you know how hard it has been to raise a child on my own? And for you to give me shit if I wanted to move on? Fuck you, Toji.”

His questions not only angered you, but upset you. You had every right to allow yourself to move on after him being locked up for two years. The fact that he’d even attempt to make you feel bad about that was absurd.

Toji watched silently as you held back tears, put the telephone in its holder and walked away with your daughter.

That was the last conversation he had with you for a year. Toji would’ve slapped his past self for even talking to you like that because he misses you now more than ever.

There were so many times where he’s called you, longing to hear your sweet voice. Even if it’s you saying that he’s a dick and you never wanted to hear from him again.

But that wish was never granted.

‘Hey, it’s me again. It’s nearly peanuts fourth birthday..’ He smiles remembering the nickname you gave your daughter. ‘I was just wondering if maybe you could come around? Or maybe give me a call, just so I can wish her a happy birthday. I miss you more and more each day. Both of you. I love you.’

The voicemail meant nothing to you. It should’ve meant nothing to you. But hearing him say your daughter’s nickname sent tears down your face.

He truly misses his little family.

You can only imagine his excitement when he was released. He called an uber straight to your home, his home. He had nothing but a bag of his possessions and $20 but once he’d see you again, he’d be more than satisfied.

It was a Saturday morning. You cooked your daughter some scrambled eggs for breakfast, reminding you of her dad who ate eggs almost everyday. Toji was set to be released any time now, and that loomed over your head like a plague.

Suddenly, you hear three loud knocks coming from your door. It startled you, and your daughter who nearly dropped her orange juice. It was probably one of your friends who forgot their bag here, you thought.

But once you opened the door, you were met with an unwanted surprise.

Toji stood, smiling down at you, dressed in a casual hoodie and joggers. He was definitely more buff due to all the muscle gain he earned through prison. It was strange seeing him again. Not behind a glass but in front of you. Not in his orange jumpsuit but in normal clothes.

You wanted to touch him, see if he was real.

“Hey..” He said. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss you right then and there. Seeing you again after a year was the best thing that has ever happened to him.

When your daughter saw him, stood at the door, her mouth fell open. “You remember me, sweetheart?” Toji crouched down to her height with open arms as she ran towards him.

He almost cried as his little girl sobbed into his shoulder, she wasn’t as little as she was when he last saw her. He realised how much time has passed. And how much he’s missed the both of you.

“Daddy, don’t l-leave again…”, the four year old croaked out, her nose stuffy and eyes watery. Toji rubbed her back, encouraging her to let her feelings out.

Toji almost jumped when he felt an extra pair of hands join in the hug. However, when he looked up and saw you, he was reminded that everything he ever did and everything he’d ever do would be for the two of you. He pulled you into the hug and held you both, kissing both of your foreheads.

All resentment you felt towards him went away the second you saw him. The three of you caught up, well, it was more of you and your daughter catching him up. The most Toji could do was mention all the times he’s intimidated people at prison, even those serving longer sentences than him. However, Toji was still glad to know you ended things with that guy you were with.

He helped you cook dinner, not forgetting to kiss your cheek every step of the way. The meal truly being made with love. He missed the domesticity of his life. Even when he was going through all his trial stuff, he remembers you, his baby daughter and him all cozied up on the couch, eating spaghetti or something.

And now he had that opportunity again. He enjoyed seeing you remind your daughter to not play with her food and how she asked for ice cream once she was done.

Once the day was over, Toji sat on his bed, his back still not truly recovered from sleeping in a dingy prison bed. It also helped that you were there. You removed his clothes, peppering him with kisses as you did so. He snuggled up to your warm body and just listened to your steady breathing.

“I fucking love you.” He whispers and you hum in response. He knows you and how it’ll take some time before you can utter those words again. If it takes him the rest of his life to make things up to you, he’ll do that.

But that’s fine. As long as he’s with you.

[6rookie-writer0110]

The Raven and the wolf

Wednesday Addams x Male Reader

Request: Being Bucky Barnes' supersoldier son and dating Wednesday Addams. He meets her and her family at her home when Gomez and Morticia insist on meeting his Dad.

You are standing outside your girlfriend’s house. It's everything that you imagined, dark and gloomy, and the crows flying around. Wednesday is standing next to you and she looks at you.

“Scared?” Wednesday asked.

“No. I like the style of your family’s home much different than mine” You said.

“Let me guess, it has colors and around happy people,” Wednesday said.

“Something like that,” You said.

You look at her and smile but she doesn't smile at her. You follow her inside the house and she introduces you to her family. You shake Gomez’s hand and he likes that because your handshake is strong.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Addams” You smiled.

“We are happy that our little storm finally brings her boyfriend,” Gomez said.

“This is a bad idea,” Wednesday said.

“Join us for dinner and it will be ready soon” Morticia smiled.

“Sure” You smiled.

You follow Wednesday to her bedroom. You start to look around she has many books, an old typewriter, files of old unsolved crimes, and some weapons.

“Wow, your room… it's dark…” You said.

“Why do you seem surprised?” Wednesday asked.

“I’m not. I always pictured how your room would look but I wasn't sure with what” You said.

You look out the window and all you see is the graveyard. A Crow flew by the window and you got scared.

“Can’t believe you got scared of a crow” Wednesday said.

“First of all, I'm not scared, and the crow surprised me,” You said.

“You were scared,” Wednesday said.

You and Wednesday sit on the bed, your hand is next to her hand. You and Wednesday look at each other then slowly start to lean in, you are about to kiss her but her mother walks in.

“Dinner is ready, Y/n, and Wednesday,” Morticia said.

“We will be downstairs in a little bit,” Wednesday said.

“Of course and I will leave the door open,” Morticia said.

She walks away.

“Your mom is nice,” You said.

“Mhmm,” Wednesday said.

You and Wednesday hold hands and go downstairs. You sit next to Wednesday and her parents start to ask questions.

“What does your mother do for a living, Y/n” Gomez asked.

“I told you, not to ask questions about his family,” Wednesday said.

“It’s okay. I don't have a good relationship with my mom. I live with my dad and he goes on missions to save people” You said.

“How did you meet my little Scorpion?” Morticia asked.

“Mother,” Wednesday said in a stern voice.

“She stole something from me and it took a while to get it back. I didn't leave her side until she gave it back now we are dating. Plus she likes my super strength” You smiled.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and you just smiled.

“What a romantic story” Morticia smiled.

“I’m going to lose my appetite,” Wednesday said.

“You should bring your father for us to meet. We would love to meet him” Gomez said.

“Why?” Wednesday asked.

She hasn't met your dad yet.

“Of course. There isn't anything wrong with meeting his father, we want to get to know him better. This is the first boyfriend you bring home for us to meet” Gomez said.

“Umm, sure I will ask my dad to come,” You said.

Her parents kept asking you questions. Wednesday wants the night to finish already.

After dinner, Wednesday disappeared to the graveyard. It took you a while to find her and she is digging.

“Wednesday, why are you avoiding me?” You asked.

She kept digging and some dirt went on your sneakers.

“It was dreadful, how my parents got along with you. And my mother keeps thinking it's romantic how we met” Wednesday said.

“It’s true, you stole it from me. I'm confused is it wrong that I got along with your parents?” You said.

She kept digging and more dirt went on your sneakers.

“Bring the coffin into the hole,” Wednesday said.

You help her get out of the hole. She watched you pick up the coffin without any problems. You gently put it in the hole and she gave you the shovel.

“Get to digging,” Wednesday said.

She leaned in and kissed you on the lips, she surprised you with a kiss. You start to smile at her and she shows you affection, by letting you dig with her.

✫ ✫ ✯ ✬

You are home and you are talking to your dad.

“I know you have a girlfriend named Wednesday Addams. I'm not sure if I approve of you dating her” Bucky said.

“Dad, she is nice to me and she cares about me. Yeah, she seems strange to everyone and heartless but we care about each other a lot. Dad, you will like her and her family. Wait, how do you know her name I didn't say it” You said.

“You are not good at hiding a relationship. Plus, I ran into your principal Weems, and told me about you and Wednesday's adventures” Bucky said.

“Please meet them and you will see that they are nice people,” You said.

“Fine. I will go but if she pulls a stunt of hurting someone like she did at her old school, I will forbid you from dating her and I will put you in another school” Bucky said.

“You are being dramatic, dad,” You said.

You glare at him and he is serious about it. You go to your bedroom and you want to text your girlfriend, but she hates cellphones.

———

You and your father arrived at the mansion. You introduced Wednesday and her family to your dad. Everyone notices his metal arm and he greets them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes” Gomez said.

“Call me, Bucky” Bucky said.

“We are glad to meet you. Dinner will be ready in a little while” Morticia said.

“My son told me how you two met,” Bucky said to Wednesday.

“He followed me around like a lost puppy, it was annoying,” Wednesday said.

“She liked it” You smiled.

Bucky noticed that she didn't show emotions. Bucky is trying to figure out why you like her. You and your dad followed them to the dining room. Everyone starts to eat and you are sitting next to Wednesday.

“How did you get your metal arm?” Wednesday asked.

“It happened in 1945, I was trying to stop Hydra an evil organization. I fell from the train down towards the mountain, Hyra captured me and they experimented on me” Bucky said.

“Did you say 1945?” Gomez asked.

“Yes. I’m 108 years old” Bucky said.

He starts to eat his food and they are speechless, except for Wednesday. They start to talk more and get to know each other. Bucky still noticed that your girlfriend doesn't show any emotions at all.

“Is that a hand!?” Bucky asked.

Thing gets on your shoulder.

“His name is Thing, he is part of the family,” Morticia said.

“I don’t know sign language,” Bucky said.

“He said, it's nice to meet you,” Gomez said.

“Hi… Thing…” Bucky said unsure.

“How was Y/n as a little boy,” Morticia said.

“He was shy and didn't want to leave my side. When he was five years old, he did a school dance in front of everyone and I thought it would help him get out of his shell. He got stage fright and he didn't do the dance, I got up and started to do the steps then he started to copy me” Bucky said.

“Dad, you promised not to tell,” You said.

“How precious, of you to do that for him,” Morticia said.

After dinner, your dad kept talking to Morticia and Gomez. Wednesday wanted to show you her secret weapon room.

“Wow, you have a lot of weapons,” You said.

“Nobody knows about this. You are the first” Wednesday said.

You gave her a peck on the lips.

“You are my first serious relationship,” You said.

“Y/n, don't get soft on me,” Wednesday said.

You just smile at her. But she did kiss you on the lips and some of her lipstick is on your lips.

[knight-of-flowerss]

BIRTHDAY PRESENT

MODERN!BOXER!BENJICOT 'DAVOS' BLACKWOOD x READER

Masterlist

Smut! MDNI! 18+!

Synopsis: Daughter of a famous boxer, a spoiled little princess, but also one who cares for her family. When your brother gets beaten to a pulp by an underground beast of a boxer, your father takes him under his wing. Now you have to deal with him.

Note: am I supposed to be writing three other fics atm? Yes. Yes I am. Did I write this in the spur of the moment cause it sounded like an amazing fic? Yes. Yes I did.😋 also I used Y/N twice (js a warning lol)

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @hardkiddonut

Your bother was a boxer. A shit one but still a boxer. Your dad is one too, a legendary one. The great Duke Miller. Your brother, Scotty Miller, is due to be his 'prodigy', he's hoping.

Duke has high standards for Scotty, he wishes for him to be like how he was. But he's a screw up, he hates boxing and he'd rather play football rather than train.

Duke started him off in underground fights, trying to toughen him up. It'd been a few months and he'd gotten a bit better so Duke decided to put him in a match with one of the best fighters in that shitty, underground boxing world.

Benjicot 'Bloody Ben' Blackwood.

He's dangerous, always beating his opponents basically to a pulp. As soon as he stepped into that ring, he was an animal.

And that's what happened, he beat Scotty to a pulp, nearly killing him. You were furious, watching your brother get repeatedly punched as he lay their helplessly, brutality always did make the crowd go wild.

Scotty is taken away on a stretcher, to the hospital. Rage blinds you as you storm over to Benjicot's changing room, opening and slamming the door.

He's half dressed and you're seething with anger. Are you seriously going to stand up to this very violent boxer? Yes, yes you are apparently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?! You nearly killed my fucking brother!" You shout at him. Ben turns around, only just now noticing you're here.

His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in the heels, short dress and perfectly manicured nails. His lips curl up into a smirk as he leans against the lockers, his arms crossing across his bare chest. "He was too weak. He deserved it."

Was your brother weak? Yes, yes he was. Are you going to let this man know that you agree with him? No. No the fuck you aren't. "Too weak?! So since he's too weak, you just thought you'd kill him?! Is that it?!"

He shrugs and his smirk widens. He pushes off the lockers and stands straight. "His own fucking fault. He shouldn't have signed up to fight me. You must be his little sister then?"

"Yeah! I am! And it wasn't him who signed up for the match! It was our dad! Just 'cause you think you're some big man doesn't mean you have to nearly kill him!" You screech, the sound echoing off the walls.

He approaches you slowly, stopping just in front of you, towering over you. He takes you in once more, his gaze raking over you. Taking you all in, a shiver going down his spine.

"Your daddy should know better than to throw your older brother to me. What's your name then?" You glare up at him as he smirks down at you. "My name's y/n, but I don't care about that. You're gonna pay for his hospital bills."

He hums, "y/n huh? Cute, like you." His smirk morphs into a teasing grin, "and pay his hospital bills? How are you going to make me do that, Darlin'?"

"You're gonna pay it with the money you won." He laughs at that, gripping your chin and tilting your head up. "Is that so? You think you can just waltz in here and demand money from me, huh? And what if I don't wanna give you a single penny, Darlin'? What then?"

You smack his hand away, "it doesn't matter if you don't want to! You nearly fucking killed him! It's the bare minimum!"

He laughs again, reaching out and tugging you towards him, his big, calloused hands gripping your hips. "How do I know you care about your older brother? How do I know you aren't just trying to swindle me out of my hard-earned cash?" He grins, a shit-eating grin.

You push him away, your manicured nails slightly digging into his bare chest, "Because I was the one who told him not to fight! I love my brother and you are the fucker who nearly killed him! You're gonna pay for it!"

He lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at you. He leans forward, his arms coming up to box you in on a nearby locker. "And how are you going to stop me from walking away, huh? Sweet little thing like you. Who's gonna make me pay, huh?"

"I'm gonna make you pay. Or they are." You nod your head at the two men at the door, your body guards. They follow you practically everywhere since your dad is a legendary boxer back in his day and his brother being his 'prodigy son', that's what the press calls him, bar him being a shite boxer.

He follows your gaze over to the two bodyguards, eyeing them both up for a few seconds before a loud, barking laugh leaves his lips. His attention drifts back to you. "Yeah? You think those big guys are going to make me pay up, eh? Just because your daddy used to be this big, famous boxer doesn't mean your bodyguard’s intimidate me darlin'."

"Oh, so you think you can beat them black and blue like you did Scotty?" He laughs again, a barking sound that seems to echo. He grins down at you, his voice now taking on a lower, more serious tone.

"You think I’d let those two goons over there even touch me? I'd knock them both out with a single punch, then what're you gonna do darlin'?" His tongue darts out to lick at his lips before grinning.

"You won't knock them out." You spit out. He smirks, leaning in closer so your faces are mere inches apart. “You doubting my boxing skills? I'm offended, darlin'. You just saw what I can do. I'd beat those big guys into the ground, without even breaking a sweat."

You cross your arms over your chest, "Go on then."

He laughs again, a loud and arrogant sound, he pushes away from the wall, "You sure you want me to kick your goons arses? Won't you be embarrassed about my beating them so badly?" You give him a dirty look, looking him up and down, "Like you could."

He grins as he stops in front of your big bodyguards. He looks up at the two big men, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face as he gives them a cocky wave. "Hey there boys, fancy a little sparring session? Just a fun little warmup before I fight again tomorrow."

The bodyguards exchange a look before the first one cracks his knuckles, his eyes never leaving Ben. "Sure pal, why not?"

You stay a little behind, watching everything happen. One of the bodyguards swings a punch at Ben's face, but he ducks to the side at the last moment and it misses, he laughs as he straightens up and shakes his head. "Is that the best you've got? Seriously?"

The bodyguards both charge forward at the same time now, fists flying. But he's too quick, he dodges every punch, his movements smooth and agile. He laughs again and smirks at them. "You call yourselves bodyguards? You're about as strong as a wet noodle."

The bodyguards are getting frustrated now, one of them tries a kick aimed at his stomach, but he grabs the man's leg and swings him around, sending him flying into the other bodyguard and knocking them both to the ground. He stands over them, still laughing, his hands on his hips as he looks to you. "You still doubting me, darlin'?"

You glare at him, "You said you could knock them out, you haven't knocked them out yet." He laughs again as he looks down at the two men who are now both getting to their feet. He's having the time of his life. "I'm getting there sweetheart, I'm getting there. Just didn't want it to be too quick and easy."

The bodyguards charge at him again, but he's still too quick, he ducks and weaves through their punches, countering with jabs of his own. He's like lightning, moving around the room with dizzying speed.

The bodyguards are getting tired now, their movements slowing down as they wear themselves out. But he's nowhere near tired at all, he's enjoying himself too much. "Come on guys, is that all you got? This is embarrassing, honestly."

The bodyguards exchange a look, they're both exhausted now, their faces red, their breathing ragged. They're done for. But it doesn't even look like Benji has broken a sweat.

He grins as he steps over to them, towering over the two big men, his hands on his hips as he looks down at them. "Have you boys had enough yet?"

They both nod, still trying to catch their breaths. There is no way they could keep up with him. He laughs again, that same loud, barking sound, and turns to look back at you. "There, I told you I'd knock their asses to the ground. You doubt me again princess?"

"Are both of you fucking serious?! You're both fucking pathetic!-" You hear someone clearing their throat at the door, you turn to look at them. "Daddy..", Your father was at the door. A former legendary boxer, still big and hench, in his fifties, bordering sixties. He's still got his muscles and the brooding glare.

Benji's smirk slips a little, his eyes going wide at the sight of your father, the famous, legendary boxer, Duke Miller. This was not the man he wanted to meet right now. Well, he would love to meet him, but right now when he's knocking his daughter's bodyguard's on their arses? Nope. He slowly steps back and stands up straight, he's still taller than your dad, but that didn't matter, everyone knew that this man was not to be trifled with.

Your dad doesn't speak, merely looks him up and down and grumbles. "You're that Bloody Ben bloke arnt you, huh?" Benjicot swallows, his hands shifting from his hips to stuffing themselves into the pockets of his trousers. "Yes sir. That's me."

Your dad walks further into the room, taking in the sight of his two bodyguards sitting on the floor, before his steely gaze drifts back onto Ben, he looks him up and down for a few moments before grumbling again. "What're you doing talking to my daughter?"

Ben glances quickly at you before looking back at your father, trying to keep his cool, though he can feel himself starting to sweat under the pressure of being eyeballed by your dad. He shrugs his shoulders and responds with a slight stutter. "She uh, she came to see me, sir… after the fight."

Your dad narrows his eyes, the intense glare not faltering for a second as he steps further into the room, moving closer to Ben, his expression stern and intimidating. "Why'd she come to see you huh? You beat her brother good. What she want from you?"

Ben swallows again, his hands gripping a little tighter in his pockets, though his lips still quirk upwards into a cheeky half-smirk. He looks past your dad and meets your gaze for just a moment, before his eyes flicks back to your dad again. "She came to demand I pay hospital bills, sir."

Your dad scoffs a little at that, his eyes flickering over to you, before he fixes Ben with his hard stare again. "Hospital bills huh? Yeah she's a good kid, always making sure that brother of hers is okay. Always looking out for people." He steps closer still, his face so close to Ben that he's practically breathing down his neck, his voice dangerously low. "I take it you told her you ain’t paying?"

Ben swallows again, his gaze shifting to the floor, the smirk slipping from his face as he suddenly feels much smaller and insecure under your dad's gaze and proximity. He nods faintly once, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering right now.

Your dad chuckles slightly at that, a low and gruff sound, as he steps back and crosses his arms over his chest, still looking at Ben. "Is that right? You’re saying no to us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow as he waits for a response, the look on his face making it very clear he's not to be trifled with or defied.

Ben slowly raises his gaze, meeting your dad's eyes now, his bravado starting to return as he straightens up slightly and speaks up. "Yeah, I am. Why should I pay hospital bills for some guy who I beat up in a fight when it's literally our jobs."

Your dad keeps his brooding face on before bursting out in a boisterous chuckle, "Fair enough lad." You look at your dad with a shocked face, you can't believe he's not shouting at him by now.

Your dad chuckles again and shakes his head as he moves over to the two bodyguards, still sitting on the floor, and reaches down to pull the first one to his feet, who wobbles slightly but ultimately stands up on steady legs. He pats him on the shoulder before he nods to the second one, who stands up but still looks a little shaky. "You two go stand out in the hallway. Make sure we're undisturbed." They both nod and leave the room, glancing warily and warily at Ben as they do.

Ben watches them go, his eyes following the two bodyguards, before slowly drifting back to your dad, who is now standing in front of him again, his arms crossed over his giant chest and his feet planted firmly on the floor, like an intimidating sentinel.

Your dad glares at him for a few moments, his expression stern, before he slowly starts to speak again, his voice low and firm. "Let me tell you something, kid. You got a reputation for being tough, for winning fights and being a damn good boxer. But I'm not afraid of you. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't lay you out flat if I had to. Understand?"

Ben swallows again, his bravado shrinking down under your dad's harsh words and terrifying presence. His shoulders slumped slightly and he mutters. "Yes sir, I understand."

Your Dad nods, seemingly satisfied in knowing that he's got Ben feeling small and scared. He steps back, putting a little distance between them before speaking again, his voice a little less intimidating now, but no less firm and authoritative. "Good. Now, I'm going to talk with my daughter. Alone. You sit down. And you don't move a muscle till one of us tells you to, you hear?"

Ben nods again and mutters another 'yes sir' before he quickly turns and heads over to a chair in the corner of the room, sitting down on it quickly, like an obedient schoolboy.

Your dad makes a satisfied grunt as he watches Ben sit down, his gaze lingering on him for a few more moments, before he looks at you, jerking his head towards the door. "Pumpkin, come with me. We need to talk."

You nod and follow him out of the room, glancing back towards Ben one more time, he glances up and meets your eyes but looks away quickly, staring down at his hands awkwardly instead, looking like a scolded child sitting in the corner.

Once you're both out in the hallway, your dad speaks again. "What're you doing talking to that kid, Pumpkin?" You look up at your father, "He has to play Scottys bills daddy. Just because you think he's a good boxer and you wanna 'take him under your wing' doesn't mean he gets to beat up your son."

Your dad scoffs and mutters something under his breath as he shakes his head, still looking a mixture of annoyed at your insistence. "You're too soft, Pumpkin. Kid has skills, he's got potential. I think I can train him, mentor him, groom him. He could be something special."

"But.. but he hurt Scotty, daddy!" You plead with your father. Your dad sighs and looks at you, his gaze softening a little as he takes in your concern for your brother, though his tone remains firm. "It's just a couple of broken bones sweetheart. Scotty'll be fine. Kids get hurt in boxing. It's part of the game. You gotta toughen up a little, stop being so soft."

I pout. Am I a spoiled princess? Yes, yes I am. Do I get worried about my brother and my dad revolving around fights? Yes, yes I do. That's why I'm so adamant that this fucker pays.

Your dad chuckles slightly when he sees your pout, his expression softening even more. He has a soft spot for you, always has. "You're just like your momma. Always getting worked up at the slightest bit of injuries. She was soft just like you."

I nibble at my bottom lip slightly, "I miss momma. She would agree with me. It's not smart to take that.. savage… under your wing daddy."

Your dad sighs at that, his smile slipping as he's reminded of the past. He shakes his head slightly before he speaks, "Your momma would most likely not approve, you're right. But she's not here anymore. I'm the one looking out for you two now. And I say that kid has potential. I think it'd be a waste to let him carry on fighting in those crappy little underground clubs. I could help him become great, get him into professional fights."

You roll your eyes, done with this stupid conversation, "whatever, I'm gonna go visit Scotty." Your dad nods and pats you on the shoulder. "You do that sweet'eart. I'm gonna stay here and have a chat with that kid for a while. But you go see your brother, I'm sure he'd love a visit from you."

I walk away, going to the hired car for you to go to the hospital, leaving your dad.

Your dad watches you go, his expression soft for a moment before he turns back to the room, pausing outside the door to take a deep breath before he goes in.

Benji is still sitting in the chair, looking up when the door opens. He can see the intensity in your dad's eyes and suddenly feels a wave of nervousness again as your dad approaches him.

Your dad stands over him for a few seconds, not saying anything, just looking down at him. Ben tries to smile to cover up for his nervousness but it comes across as an awkward grimace on his face instead.

Your dad just grunts and motions to the chair next to Ben. "Move owa." Ben quickly scrambles to move a little further down the chair, and your dad sits down next to him, his legs spread out wide and his bulk taking up more than half the chair.

Your dad turns to look at him, his gaze hard and unwavering, it makes Ben shrink a little in the chair. "So, kid, I hear you beat my boy Scotty good huh?"

Ben swallows and nods faintly, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair slightly as he tries not to show how intimidated he feels right now by your dad.

Your dad lets out a gruff chuckle and shakes his head slightly. "You're a crazy bastard, I'll give you that. He's my kid and I love him, but Scotty never was the brightest or the toughest. I'm not surprised you managed to lay him flat like that."

Ben chuckles a little, relaxing slightly and feeling a little more confident. He likes how your dad is treating him casually, instead of like a kid, the way you had, even though he's older than you. "He was sloppy. Put up a pretty pathetic attempt of a fight. It was hard to even take it seriously, if I'm honest."

Your dad lets out another laugh at that, this one a little louder. "Yeah, Scotty's never been the best at fighting. He's always been a bit of a mummy's boy that one. Never been one for roughhousing. Was always more interested in playing sports than fighting."

Ben nods in agreement and relaxes further into the chair, starting to enjoy the conversation with your dad now, instead of feeling like he's being interrogated. He's smiling now, the same cocky smile he usually has. "Yeah, he spent more time on his football kick than on punch training, I could tell from his form as soon as the fight started."

Your dad chuckles again and nods. "Yeah yeah, that sounds like Scotty alright. Always a mamma's boy, that one. I've tried my damndest to get him to toughen up, to actually learn how to fight instead of relying on being quick or agile. But every time I tried to get him to come to the gym with me, all he wanted to do was kick a bloody ball."

Ben laughs at that, shaking his head at the thought of Scotty being anything but a fighter. "He's damn lucky he never came up against a proper fighter then or he'd be hurt a lot more than a couple of broken bones."

Your dad laughs loudly at that and shakes his head, seemingly amused by the thought of Scotty getting hurt worse than a few broken bones. "You are a real fighter son, a true one. But you're stuck in these shit-tip underground fights."

Your dad grins at that and claps a hand down on Ben's shoulder. "That's what I'm hoping to change. You got real skill kid, you've got natural talent. But you could be one of the greats if you let me train you. Help you reach your full potential."

Ben grins back at your dad, his eyes lighting up with excitement now. It was one thing to have your daughter come demanding him to give money. But having the famed former legend himself want to take him on as a mentee? That was an opportunity he was not about to refuse, even if it did mean he was stuck having to deal with your pestering.

Your dad grins as he sees the excitement and interest in Benjicot's gaze, and squeezes his shoulder. "So, what do you say kid? Will you join my private training regimen and let me help you reach the greatness I know you can achieve?"

Ben nods, not hesitating for a second at the offer. "Hell yeah I'll do it. Train with a legend? Who'd say No to that?"

Your dad grins even wider at that, laughing as he gives Ben a firm pat on the back. "That's the spirit kid. No time to spare. We start your regular training next week. Twice a week. I trust you'll be at the gym every time, no excuses. Understand?"

Ben nods again, feeling the firm slap on his back and trying not to wince as it hits his sore muscles. "I understand, sir, yeah. I'll make sure I show up. Every single session."

Your dad grins and leans back in the chair as he hears that, his hand still on Ben's shoulder. "Ah that's good news. I was hoping you'd say that. You'll stay at me mansion. Have a proper place to rest and eat before and after our training sessions. There's a gym there so that we're not driving back and forth to the boxing gyms too. You'll love it, kid."

Ben's eyes widen at that. A mansion?! That's some real top class treatment. He's never had anything close to that growing up, so he's shocked to say the least at the offer. Plus, living at a boxing legends mansion? And one as rich as your dad is? This was sounding better and better by the minute.

Your dad pats him on the shoulder again. "You'll have your own room, don't worry. Private room just for your use. Got plenty of space at the mansion, more than enough room for you to have your own space separate from our family."

Ben's mind is still boggling at the thought of having a room in your dads mansion. It's an insane deal from his point of view. Free training from one of the boxing greats and a place to live? It sounded like a dream come true. He smiles and nods again, still a little speechless.

Your dad smiles as he sees the look of disbelief on Ben's face, and can't help but laugh at his surprise. "I take it you're shocked by that, yeah? Surprised I'm giving you such special treatment and a place to live?"

Benji nods, his lips curving up into a smile despite himself. "Hell yeah, I'm surprised. I was expecting a few training sessions, but now you're telling me I'm living with you at your mansion. You don't have to do all that for me, you know. I don't deserve it."

Your dad laughs and shakes his head, waving away Benji's words. "Nonsense, kid. You've got talent. Serious talent. I'm damn near certain I can turn you into a world class fighter. It'd be a waste not to give you the best training and support to reach your full potential. I'm going to make you a damn legend."

Ben's smile somehow gets even wider at the praise and support. It feels damn good to be treated as something other than just a dumb boxer and instead, someone with actual potential. "Yeah, damn right you are. I'm gonna be the best damn fighter you've ever trained. Make you proud of having taken me on like this."

Your dad smirks and pats Benji's shoulder again, giving it a firm squeeze now. "That's what I like to hear. You have the skills, kid, I've got a lot of confidence that you're goin' places. I'm not taking on just any old guy to train. You're something special. I can see it. You're gonna have the skills and the talent to become a damn champion one day if I keep working with you."

It'd been a few months since Benjicot moved in. As you can already tell, it was a shit show. Let's just say a glass got launched in the direction of Benjicot from you, snarky comments from an injured Scotty and Rom, your little brother, silently eating while he watches and does his GCSE revision.

At every opportunity, you make his life hell. Well, inconveniencing him. Moving his boxing gloves or wrap, putting his clothes in random places, changing out his protein powder for flour. Other things too, just to piss him off, a little inconvenience in his day.

You were also rude, giving him dirty glances, mean comments, rolling your eyes at every word.

After seven months of Benjicot living with them and training with your father and brother, your birthday comes up. Nineteen. You always had wild, big parties on your birthday, this is no difference.

You're going for classy. Golds, silvers, fancy glass carved cups. It was gonna be huge.

Guests pile in, champagne getting passed around to each. After all the guests arrive, they get to mingle for a while and put the presents on the large, over-piled table.

Soon enough, you make your grand entrance. Walking down the very large staircase, clad in a black dress, short skirt at the front with a long trailing back, sliding against the floors and stairs. Your hair is lightly curled and your makeup done up. You looked almost feline.

Benjicot's standing with your brothers, watching your walk down the stairs, like a model. Long legs going down each step with cute Louis Vuitton heels.

Stepping off the stairs, people come up and wish you happy birthday. You grab a glass of champagne, sipping on it as you make your way around, mingling with friends and family.

After a while, you're a bit tipsy, taking shots with your friends and dancing on the dance floor. You stumble outside, walking to a small bench in the very large back garden, grabbing a breath of fresh air.

Ben wanders into the back garden to grab some fresh air as well. He'd had a good time partying so far but he'd needed a short break. He spots you sitting on the bench and heads over to join you. He sits on the bench next to you and looks over at you. "You enjoying your birthday so far?"

You look at him as he sits down, rolling you eyes, just your luck. "Yeah. I am."

Ben just snickers softly at your reaction to him sitting next to you. You clearly weren't too happy to see him, which amused him. "Oh, come on. Don't act too thrilled to see me, I know you're really happy I'm here…"

Ben has a cocky smirk on his face as he pokes your side gently. He hadn't seen you all night, so you getting all annoyed at him for joining you on the bench was amusing. You sigh, rolling your eyes again as you put one knee ontop of the other, resting your elbows on them.

Benji's smirk grows at the sight of you rolling your eyes yet again. He'd clearly gotten under your skin already, and it was far too easy.He glances over at you and grins before he speaks up again. "Damn, you look like you're really enjoying yourself over there."

One of his eyebrows raise slightly as you reposition your legs. You were acting just as he had imagined you would, you'd clearly grown exasperated with him already, even though he'd been sitting next to you for only less than a few minutes. It was a little funny.

Benji snickers to himself. You were a hell of an easy to rile up. He could already tell he was annoying you, he was just testing your limits now. "Why the long face? We're at a birthday party… you're supposed to be having fun, birthday girl…"

"Yeah well, with the guy that battered me brother and is now me dads fucking favourite despite not being his son sitting next to me, no surprise I'm not in a good mood." You scoff.

Benjicot just smirks slightly at your response, you were clearly a little pissed off and he knew he was the cause of it. You were just so easy to rile up, all he had to do was sit next to you and you started losing your temper. He chuckles softly, tilting his head at you. "That's right… I'm the golden boy… and you're just a pain in my arse…"

He leans back against the bench and continues to smirk smugly as he glances over at you. You were glaring at him already, you must've been absolutely fuming by now, but that was exactly what he was wanting. You were very fun to wind up, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.

He couldn't help it, he was far too amused by your angered expression. He knew you were seething on the inside and he just felt like poking the bear some more. "Aw… look at your face. You're all pouty and angry… it's cute…"

You give him a disgusted look. "Just shut up. My head is banging and you’re talking too much."

Ben snickers as you give him that look. You acted so damn cute when you were annoyed, it was amusing to him. He almost couldn't resist the idea of making you even more pissed off. "Aww, is your little head hurting? Has all that dancing given you a migrane? Poor little thing…"

You glare at him. Then your mind got fuzzy, next thing you realise, your making out with him and his fingers are.. well.. inside you..

Ben's taken by surprise when you suddenly start making out with him, not that he's complaining of course… but he wasn't expecting you to kiss him out of the blue. He grins into the kiss, just going with it. He lets a finger trail along your skin before he slides his fingers between your legs.

Benjicot's enjoying this, clearly, and he's not about to stop kissing you and touching you any time soon… he knew you were a little angry before but now he had you kissing him and making out with him he just wants more.

Ben slides his tongue into your mouth, pressing himself closer to you as he starts to kiss you a little bit rougher. He's enjoying having you so close to him like this, and he can't help but want more.

You moan softly into his mouth, your legs parting more as his fingers rock inside you. Ben grins against your lips, feeling you part your legs even more for him. He loved seeing how much you wanted him, it was an ego boost. He pushes his fingers into you a bit deeper, enjoying the way you writhe for him.

Ben slides his tongue into your mouth again, trying to muffle all of those sweet sounds you make. He really was enjoying this a lot, and he wanted more… he felt his jeans start to tighten as you got a bit more handsy and started pulling his shirt up.

Benji pulls back from the kiss when he feels you start to tug at his shirt, grinning down at you. "You gonna take my shirt off, darlin'?" You moan and pant, pouting. "I.. I wanna feel you.. fuck Benji.."

Benjicot just chuckles softly, enjoying how eager you were right now. He wasn't used to you being so willing and submissive.. He grins down at you as he pulls off his shirt, revealing the lean, well-toned muscles underneath. He grins as he looks at you, just waiting to see what you would do next.

You tug him down to kiss you again, moving his hand to guide his fingers back inside you, your nails raking down his chest.

Ben grins as you pull him down to you, not even a little bit surprised that you're wanting to continue things. He moans as he starts kissing you again, and it doesn't take you long to guide his fingers back to where they had been before and he lets his fingers sink into you again. He lets out a soft groan as your hands wander down his chest.

He leans into you a bit more, enjoying the feeling of your hands running over his chest and body, and your lips on his. He's really enjoying this, and you feel so fucking good around his fingers, he's starting to strain in his jeans, and he knows he's going to need to ease the pressure and discomfort soon enough.

You grip onto his waist, your other hand in his hair as you tug on it and moan in his mouth.

Ben moans back into your mouth, loving how you're pulling his hair and gripping onto his hips, knowing how good his fingers are making you feel, how eager you are. He slides his other hand up your thigh, his hand moving higher and higher as he kisses you more roughly and you let out another quiet gasp.

His lips move from yours and start trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, messy kisses against your throat as his hand on your thigh starts to push your dress up, wanting to get touch more of your skin.

He moans against your neck, his lips and teeth sucking and biting gently as he continues to kiss down your collarbone and shoulder, his hands are now grabbing your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he continues leaving hot, eager kisses all over your skin.

Your thighs tremble slightly, squeezing your eyes shut, biting your lip softly. The pleasure is becoming too much.

Benjicot can feel your thighs trembling in his hands and he grins against your skin, loving how you were reacting to his mouth and hands, he could tell you were getting more worked up. His lips and teeth travel back up to your neck and he starts kissing and biting at it again, leaving more marks over your skin.

"Fuck.. Ben.. 'm close.." You whimper out, trembling and writhing.

Ben feels a shiver down his spine as you let your breathless words, he can tell how close you are and he loves it, he keeps his lips against your neck, sucking and biting gently as his hands slide higher and higher up your legs. He's enjoying it too, his breathing is heavier and he's feeling a lot of pressure against his jeans, he's going to have to find a way to get some relief sooner or later.

"Oh fuck! Benji! 'M gonna cum!" He lets out a low and slightly strangled moan as he sucks a mark into your throat, feeling you getting closer and closer to release as his hands continue to move and wander over your legs. He's growing more and more desperate to have some sort of relief, it was starting to get really uncomfortable, feeling your skin against his and hearing you call out his name over and over again.

" 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna cum.." You mumble and babble, thighs shaking. He grins against your neck as he hears your breathless words, loving the sounds of you so close to cumming, he continues to suck and bite at your throat, his breathing heavier now and feeling more strained, he needs something soon.

Benji lets a hand wander up higher, finally letting his hand grip and squeeze your thigh, wanting to touch more of your skin and hold you even closer to him. He moans against your neck as he feels himself get even more pent up and frustrated in his jeans, and he's starting to get desperate for some kind of relief and friction.

You grip his arm, acrylic nails digging into his skin, your mouth drops open into an 'O' as your thighs tremble and you cum, the waves of pleasure crashing down.

He moans into your neck, feeling you come against his fingers and he can't help but let out a slightly shaky breath as you grip onto his arm and make all those sweet sounds.

His hips twitch forward, and he lets out another shaky moan as he feels himself get even more pent up, he's struggling to keep it together.

He pulls back from your neck and letting his forehead rest against yours, his breathing still a little laboured and his jeans feeling really damn tight.

"Mmm… Benji.." You moan breathlessly. He can't help but let a shiver run down his spine as you say his name again, all breathless and weak, he's really struggling to keep himself from just shoving you back against the bench and taking what he so badly wants.

He lets out a low moan as he looks down at you, his heart racing and his head spinning a little, he needs some kind of relief, and he's struggling to keep himself together as he looks down at you, all messed up and flushed and panting a little.

Now that was one hell of a birthday present.

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?” 

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him. 

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown. 

Fuck. 

You wanted the day to be over. 

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right? 

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation. 

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart. 

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak. 

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return. 

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do. 

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness. 

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked. 

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye. 

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out. 

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault. 

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day. 

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school. 

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee. 

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows. 

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied. 

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. 

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. 

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow. 

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now. 

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words. 

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly. 

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?” 

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected. 

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished. 

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee. 

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly. 

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.” 

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft. 

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly. 

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine. 

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash. 

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you. 

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes. 

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away. 

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed. 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body. 

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck. 

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar. 

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs. 

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.” 

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled. 

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine. 

“Joel,” you whined. 

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours. 

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat. 

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear. 

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear. 

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved. 

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.” 

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing. 

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless. 

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing. 

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair. 

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek. 

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you. 

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly. 

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him. 

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand. 

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together. 

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered. 

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you. 

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch. 

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased. 

“I just don’t like them!” You defended. 

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms. 

“Your turn,” you sighed. 

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned. 

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face. 

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.” 

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected. 

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften. 

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest. 

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you. 

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered. 

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you. 

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks. 

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed. 

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled. 

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier. 

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence. 

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room. 

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously. 

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it. 

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it. 

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand. 

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head. 

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver. 

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking. 

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

[ficretus]

Bleiss origin story

*In Vacuo cafeteria*

Weiss: So, I will finally ask Jaune out.

Yang: Oof.

Weiss: What? I've planned out everything. Limo, flowers, restaurant...

Yang: That's not an issue.

Weiss: Issue? What's going on?

Blake: Weiss, how do I explain this to you...

Yang: Blondes can only be matched with dark haired partners.

Weiss: Is this some kind of joke?

Blake: I'm afraid Yang is right. You and Jaune don't compliment each other.

Weiss: Oh please, that's just a superstition.

Yang: Sorry Weiss Cream, but my family is basically that shit 1.1. Grandpa Xiao Long was blonde, married dark haired woman. Dad married both Mom and Bird Lady, both dark haired. And now, Blake and me. Ships don't lie.

Weiss: That all could have been a coincidence.

Blake: Seems I'm gonna have to call an expert. Oscar! Can you come over here.

Oscar: What's going on?

Blake: I wanna ask Oz something.

Yang: I guess you can say you are... Oz car.

Ozpin: What is it Miss Belladonna?

Blake: Is it true that blondes seek out dark haired people and vice versa?

Weiss: Oh come on, do you really want to bother Headmaster Ozpin with that?

Ozpin: It is true Miss Belladonna. There is some magic that draws them together. There is a recorded history of blonde Valean Kings marrying dark haired consorts and vice versa.

Oscar: Really?

Ozpin: Indeed. I suspect that might have been one of the reasons my marriage with Salem fell apart. You see, my first reincarnation no longer had dark hair. Sigh...

Yang: See, blond and dark hair, otherwise relationship won't work.

Oscar: *nervous laughter* I need to go. Need to buy some hair spray... for reasons. *runs away*

Weiss: That proves nothing. Royalty mostly married to preserve status, not out of love. And Ozma and Salem had million other issues, I doubt it all went wrong because of wrong hair color.

Blake: Fine, wanna live experiment?

Weiss: What kind of experiment?

Blake: *types on her scroll* I just sent pictures of all available Huntsmen and Huntresses to Sun. He'll mark them with either no, maybe or smash. Wanna bet he's gonna mark only dark haired ones with smash?

Weiss: Pfff, Sun is gonna mark half of people with sm.... *clears throat* There is no way you are gonna prove anything that way.

*five minutes later*

Blake: And results are in. *shows them to Weiss*

Weiss: No, no, no, no, no, they are all dark haired!

Yang: Hey look, he marked Raven, my uncle, girlfriend and sister with smash. Ha, ha. Sun! I wanna talk to you! *eyes turn red*

Blake: Do you see now Weiss?

Yang: Hey! Don't run away! I just wanna talk to you!

Weiss: But still. There are always exceptions to the rule. Besides, it's not like there is some dark haired woman that's gonna snatch Jaune.

*one story arc later*

Weiss: What the hell Jaune?! You are with... with... Cinder?!

Jaune: I was able to put my anger behind me. In the end, we found out we are more similar than we initially thought. As if there was something drawing us together.

Cinder: You know, I always pictured my Prince to be blonde.

Jaune: Really?

Cinder: It could only be you. *kisses Jaune*

Weiss: *laughs maniacally*

Blake: Weiss, are you alright?

Weiss: No more, no more. *laughs maniacally* There is no more Weiss. *puts on a wig* Only Bleiss.