#just thought i needed to drop this anvil

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] "How To Recieve An A+ In Housekeeping!"

Summary: Attempting to get a job in Victorian Housekeeping Co. is a very strenuous process! One must show a wide variety of skills, good vocabulary, and excellent manners— all three were skills that you were failing at but, luckily the leader of the company had the perfect method to teach you these skills and it all starts with a program! Warning(s): Dom! Lycaon / Sub! Reader, Brat-Taming [Reader's a bit mouthy at best tbh] Spanking, Slight Edging, Cum Denial [Kinda? Lycaon encourages reader not to cum but doesn't do anything to enforce it tbh], Lycian being gentlemanly as hell. (Feel free to tell me if I missed anything!) Side Note(s): I won't say I am/am not a furry. But I will say that my taste in dudes will always favor them where they're stoic and serious but have a secret soft side. Respectfully, those types of men make me want to do the sexy splits on them.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this <33

"Your manners are terrible"

When those words left the wolfman's mouth sternly as you sat before him, only a desk separating the two of you, you could've sworn you felt a metaphorical anvil drop into your stomach. You had been job-hunting for a couple of weeks now, after your last gang had disbanded due to the leader getting caught up with the law. You no longer had a steady flow of cash (albeit a little illegal ) coming in!

From gang member to attempted housemaid...it was laughable. Even to you.

And clearly, the leader of the Victorian Housekeeping company thought so too from the way he looked at your resume with a strict gaze once more before resuming looking at you. You were fully expectant of another harsh sentence to slip from his sharp-toothed youth until...you heard a heavy sigh escape him.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, the very room seeming to react to the movement by the way the single light above you two flickered. His then he huffed. "There is a way to improve to improve your manners, however, you'll be learning from me personally."

You gasped. "Really?! Thank you so much, man!"

His ear twitched at the casual "man" you threw his way. "...Sir or mister is a more proper way of speaking to your male superiors."

You cleared your throat and uttered a 'sorry'. "The program will be for three weeks. Each week will be dedicated to a specific set of manners that you are to master if you wish to join the company."

"Which are?" You responded.

"The first week will be vocabulary, communication with clients, and the correct words to address people by," As Lyacon said this, he opened a drawer on his side before pulling out a piece of paper and sliding it to you. You slowly began to read over the paper, one that seemed like a contract of sorts as the wolf continued to talk.

"The second week will simply focus on posture."

You scoffed as your eyes flicked back up to his. "Posture? Ain't that just walkin'?"

"Proper posture is harder to achieve than one may assume Ms. Y/N." He said. "The third week will be—"

The sudden clearing of his throat made him stop immediately, your face suddenly but quickly turning red as you reached a section on the paper that caught your eye.

Complete submission is expected by those who train under Von Lycaon, especially those he offers "favors" to.

"F-Favors...?"

"Favors hint towards a sexual nature, if I'm to assume that was the inquiry to your question?"

In your former gang, you had heard about Von Lycaon and the whole attitude of the white wolfman. He was a pinnacle of perfection in seemingly everything he did! There didn't seem to be a single thing he half-assed, to put it crudely, and what's more? He didn't get distracted. So...for a document to suggest that he wanted submission during sex?

You didn't know if it was shocking or expected.

"I didn't expect the Lycaon to need a document to garner sex." You said.

A rare chuckle left him. "I don't," He answered. "But everyone learns quicker and better when praise and pleasure is included, correct? This is merely a suggestion for you to learn faster. You are more than welcome to opt out of this."

"And if I accept?" Upon that question, the corners of Lycaon's mouth curled up slightly as he slowly leaned in until you could just barely feel his breath.

"Then you will learn fast. On my honor, I promise you."

You should've said no to this optional part of the program. All you needed was a job and Lycaon made it clear that there was a sexless version of the program where you'd simply learn the old-fashioned way! No pleasure or sex included but...as your eyes steadily trailed over the thiren, you couldn't deny he was a handsome individual. It wouldn't be unpleasant in the slightest to have benefits while completing your training under him. And as you steadily came to that conclusion, your thighs beginning to clench underneath the desk.

The thiren briefly sniffed at the air before he closed his eyes and exhaled. He was as still as a statue for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and offered you a pen from his breast pocket.

"I didn't give you an official answer—"

"Your scent gave me a suggestion." His raspy voice in combination with the sudden feral look in his eyes...you all too quickly shooed away any doubts you may have had before you began to sign away on the line at the bottom of the paper. And once you did, sliding the paper gently back to the wolf, he read over it briefly before he folded it neatly and placed it back into a drawer.

"We shall begin Monday," Lycaon said. "Please be prompt and on-time, I don't tolerate tardiness."

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed.

And thus, your training as a potential housemaid for the Victorian Housekeeping Company has officially begun.

. . .

| Week One |

You had slept in, you had forgotten to set a timer over the weekend, too engrossed with the fact that you had basically agreed to have sex with Lycaon during your three-week training! The second you arrived home, it was a struggle to not touch yourself to the thought of what he looked like underneath his kept-together appearance.

You imagined he'd be soft to the touch judging by how much fur he had.

Would he be firm with his gaze, demanding you to be perfect even in the heat of the moment? Or would be he gentle and accommodating with you?

No matter how much your body cried out for you to indulge yourself a little, you saved it until you experienced it for yourself.

But right now, as your head was bowed down in apology to the wolfman for making him wait over forty minutes to your first day. You had a strong feeling you wouldn't be experiencing anything pleasurable today. "Once again dude, I am SO sorry!" You said.

"I forgot to set a timer, then I wanted to stop and get some breakfast along the way—"

"Stop," He snapped his jaws with a growl seeming to bubble just underneath the surface, the sight of his fangs making you shudder out of fear and...the slightest hint of excitement.

"First appearances are important, the most important out of any interaction and you sullied it on your first day of training? How do you expect to work for the company with such a flippant attitude?"

"I said sorry—"

"Sorry does not cut it Ms. Y/N. Excusing being a minute or two late is another matter but forty? Punishment is the only fitting way to solve such blatant disregard for other people's time." At those chilling words, Lycaon took a single step toward you before he took your chin into his hand, his eyes scanning over your nervous form with a critical gaze before he eventually sighed.

"I have a punishment in mind, please see to it that you are undressed in my office within' five minutes, and be on time."

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers before you huffed defiantly. "I'm not doing that!" You yelled.

His ear flicked, to him? You sounded like an impudent child, screaming and doing anything to get out of being scolded by their parent. "No?" He tilted his head.

"No!"

A wolfish smirk crept onto his face. "Every minute you stand here is an additional minute to your punishment Ms. Y/N. Do take care to remember that."

And so, there you stood.

| + | + | + |

You wouldn't be able to claim that he wasn't patient for the entire duration you had a fit about being punished on the first day of training. For about ten whole minutes, you stood there staring at the thiren until you eventually got bored and decided that "your punishment wouldn't be that bad" and simply went to his office!

You sat on a black couch and waited and when Lycaon came in?

The way he so quickly got his hands on you felt like you were being thrown around by an uncouth beast, a complete switch from the gentlemanly wolf you were talking to just a few minutes ago.

Slap! "Count." He ordered.

"O-One—Ah!"

He tutted his lips with a shake of his head as his hand slapped against your ass again, your maid uniform tugged up to your midsection as he pinned your hands down with his free hand. "Proper communication is most effective when you're speaking clearly Ms. Y/N...also, it's "one, sir"."

Another slap against your red behind rang out in the air, your body jerking forward a little at the movement. "At this rate, you'll never reach fifty." He sighed.

"W-Wait...!" You begged. "J-Just give me a break...so I can c-catch my breath—" When he slowly inched his hand upward again, your eyes widened as you quickly remembered your manners. "S-Sir! J-Just let me catch my breath...please."

If your eyes weren't blurry with tears, your mind getting fuzzier and fuzzier as you tried to ignore the ache in your cunt. You could've sworn you saw his tail move a little. After a minute, however, a sharp gasp left your swollen lips when you felt a finger graze against your sex, the featherlight touch making you shudder as you whipped your head around to look at the Lycaon.

Unconsciously, his tongue poked out to sweep against his upper set of canines as he focused on how your slick oozed out from your pussy so shamelessly. But at the same time? He figured he shouldn't have been shocked at the lewd sight, his keen hearing didn't miss the way a tiny moan would escape your lips at each slap. It was as if you wanted him to keep going and didn't want your punishment to end anytime soon.

Such behavior wasn't befitting of a potential future employee at the company. "Are you done recuperating? If so, then let us continue."

"W-Wait..." You begged. "J-Just a little time- Ah!"

"Now, now—" He pressed his hand down on your wrists a little more, lightly pinching at your thigh with the tip of his claws to calm your squirming. "—If you focus and count Ms. Y/N then your punishment will be over very soon, please remain focused."

After a final warning, he was quick to resume his smacks against your ass. The pain and pleasure eventually blurring into one another enough for your brain to somehow find a way to "center" itself. And, after around twenty minutes...Lycaon finally released you from your bent-over position over his lap and got up.

A lingering rebelliousness in the back of your head wanted to curse out the wolf as he stood, fixing his cuffs until they were neat again as if he wasn't rocking a blatant boner in his trousers! Yet as your mouth began to open as he walked further away...it quickly shut when he started walking back to you after grabbing something from a bookshelf behind his desk.

"What is that?" You asked.

"Aloe cream, it should help with the burn and any burning sensations."

Oh, you thought.

How...nice of him.

At your silence, his head tilted as he sat down next to you. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah...I just wasn't expecting aftercare." You blushed.

"Your work would be even more affected if I didn't do this, I wouldn't want that." Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat.

. . .

| Week Two |

You didn't want to admit it to yourself at the time but you knew full well as to why your heart skipped a beat that day. At first, you tried to joke and claim that you were a masochist starting to bloom! Von Lycaon was handsome, yes but you knew how to distinguish between work and personal lives! Besides, you wanted money more than you did romance and if the latter interfered with your money...you weren't in any shape or form interested in it.

But, at the second week's coming, this week focused on posture if your memory served correctly. You couldn't lie or joke to yourself anymore.

You developed a crush on your future boss.

And it grew harder and harder to deny that fact in your...current position. Naked aside from your short black heels, you were standing right in front of Lycaon with his pants pulled down just enough to reveal his leaking dick. The tip seemed to turn increasingly into an angrier red as you continued to stay frozen in place. "Are you uncomfortable?" Lycaon's words snapped you out of your thoughts before you shook your head.

"N-No sir! It's just..." You went quiet for a second. "How...how is this going to teach me posture?"

"If you would come closer, I will show you." Like a siren's song, the beckoning of his clawed finger made you take small steps forward until you were finally in front of him. "I'll be letting you take control of me for some time," You could've sworn you caught a smirk on his lips at his words. "If you manage to fuck me until I cum with the correct posture then consider your training done, and welcome to your new job as a new maid to the Victorian Housekeeping company. I'll be generous and not even include the third week of training."

"But—" As his hand found its way to your hips, he gently tugged you forward until he slowly maneuvered you to straddle him on his lap, his cock throbbing against your stomach as beads of sweat started to appear at the back of your neck. He reached the middle of your stomach, easily! And that wasn't even considering his girth. "—If your posture fails, you will unfortunately stick to the original training program. And I must warn you, most do not manage to get through week three."

You jumped a little when you felt Lycaon's hand move down to your pussy. "What are you doing?" You voiced out shakily, your clit throbbing at Lycaon's touch as one finger alone was enough to cover your entire clit.

"Preparing you of course," He said with an "obviously" tone. "No matter how much I can smell your eagerness in the air—" A sharp moan escaped your lips when his finger started to slowly move, your cheeks burning at the fact you let out such a noise from such little stimulation. "—I doubt you will be able to fully take me without a little prep."

"Y-You..." You bit your tongue to keep a curse from flying out, your hands quickly moving to his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself and not lose yourself too quickly to the pleasure. A task that you were quickly failing at as you felt a knot slowly begin to form in the pit of your stomach, scorching hot tears brimming your eyes as a single line of drool fell from the corner of your lips.

And Lycaon was enjoying every second of it.

If he were to be honest with himself.

He didn't want you to succeed this time.

After having so much fun with you last week, he would say that he had gotten a bit greedy. As entertaining as it was to tame your bratty behavior and mold it into something more palpable as someone who would be interacting with clients often, it was torture all the same to him to not shut you up with his cock instead! It wasn't enough to rut into his hand at the end of every day, heated pants leaving his lips as his tongue lulled out of his mouth like some common dog begging for a slip of meat.

To say that it was unbecoming of him to set you up for failure was an understatement, rubbing your needy bud until you nearly squirted on him wouldn't make you last very long when you were actually seated on his cock. And as cruel as it was for him to say...how unbecoming and un-gentlemanly it was...

He was so fucking eager for you to fail.

"S-Sir..." His ears perked to your whining as your head fell his chest, his ears then moving to the sound of lewd squelching coming from your pussy. "Please...I-I'm so close..." You whined.

He allowed himself to play with you a minute longer until...he took his finger away.

He struggled to withhold a laugh at your state, your eyes seeming to be confused and stuck between wanting to glare angrily at him or beggingly like a wanton whore for him to continue. "Don't look like that," He said. "If I were to make you cum now, you would be too shaky to fuck me."

You were too shaky now.

But, you'd first kiss the seat of a toilet lid before admitting defeat.

"I-I won't fail this..." You said with determination, although breathlessly.

His tail wagged ever so slightly at your determination. "We shall see," He responded before he relaxed against the couch with a deep sigh. "Please begin at your leisure Ms. Y/N." When you took him into your hand, you felt a surge of confidence at Lycaon's not-so-quiet sharp inhale of breath. You prayed that he was just as needy as you because as you lined him up to your entrance and started to slid him into you, every inch that sunk further into you made your mouth gap wider and wider until you were certain you looked like a gasping fish.

He rubbed against your walls so nicely too, his girth stretching you out just enough to where it made you drool as it touched spots inside of you that you hadn't had a clue existed until today!

"F-Fuckkkkk..." You moaned out once you were fully seated on him.

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, desperately trying to ignore that burning feeling in your core as you began to move.

"Shit." Oh, how you just wanted to just shove a hand over his snout to keep him from letting out such sexy noises. His raspy voice and the way his thumbs rubbed encouraging circles into your hips...it wasn't good for you. You'd cum faster at this rate.

"Faster," Lycaon suddenly ordered, opening one of his red eyes to look at you.

"I...I can't- Oh!" Your words caught in your throat when he suddenly fucked up into you. A squeal nearly leaving your throat as you shut your eyes tightly to try and force back that urge to cum.

"Disobeying a superior now Ms. Y/N?" One of his hands slowly dragged up your back before it gently shoved you forward a little. Immediately, you fixed your posture although you nearly fell back over a couple of times. "You should watch yourself, my type of punishment for this act won't be very fun."

You doubted that.

But, as your hands tightened on his shoulders and you fucked yourself more quicker onto him. Tears started to flow down your cheeks more easily as you couldn't deny the burning feeling in your stomach anymore, how the way Lycaon's dick throbbed inside of you and pressed against your most sensitive spots...the urge to beg him for the chance to cum, just once was on the tip of your tongue but you tried to stay focused. "Oh my God..." He moaned deeply.

"Fuckkk..."

"A-Are you close?" You whined.

He scoffed. "Not even close," You felt your hopes nearly crash and shatter at those words. "But...your pussy feels so good on my cock," He praised, his tail thumping against the couch unabashedly as he stared up at you with hooded eyes and a feral gaze. "Perhaps, instead of a maid, you should be my personal breeding toy."

His smirk grew when he felt your pussy tighten around his cock.

"Yeah?" He asked. "You like that?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly as if not seeing him would help your situation anyway. However, as you felt a furred hand cup the side of your face, the feeling of breaths hitting your face. Your eyes slowly cracked open to the wolf thiren's face right in front of yours, panting and moaning with little to no shame before he smiled. "So pretty like this Y/N..." He said before his leaned down to begin pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

Briefly, the thought of whether or not this was a part of the training flashed in the front of your mind. But...as quick as it came, it was gone. You wanted to believe that...he wasn't following some manual when it came to his actions, that they were meant just for you and you alone. "You're so wet, making so much noise...I think I was right in my earlier suggestion hm? Maybe you will do better as my toy."

You shook your head. "Don't lie." He lightly nipped your shoulder, the sharp sudden pain being just what you needed to throw you over the edge before...Lycaon's ears moved to the sound of gushing and the feeling of wetness splashing against his pants and a bit of his thighs.

Without a second thought, his fingers shot down to gather some of your cum onto his fingers before he tasted you, a groan rumbling out as he almost shocked himself with how fast he got hard again. But before he could mention it, much less suggest it, when Lycaon returned his gaze to you. He saw you passed out against his chest, the very sight making him laugh ever so quietly before he sighed.

He supposed he was feeling a touch bit generous...he expected you to cum within seconds of fucking yourself onto his cock but it took you longer than that! To the point, he actually began to worry about cumming first or not! Although he had a mind not to be, he decided to be generous and forgiving seeing as you fucked him until the point of total exhaustion on your point.

He'd give you a passing A+ for effort.

[hoodedjelly]

jimmy clones meet the nicktoon gang !! :]

then they all first meet i think timmy and jimmy would already be together (they are high school sweet hearts). cartoon shenanigans will be happening with Pierre and timmy. jimmy has possibly thought about dropping a anvil on Pierre's head right above a red X. but we don't need to worry about thaaat.

Doug and SpongeBob would start talking imminently, they are talking about jellyfish together :3

-------------------------

-Typed out text below- (thank you to @chocowhomps for helping with the dialogue and designs)

Pierre: Ah, yes.. You are the fire that lights up my impassionate heart, mon chéri... Such fierceness can only be admired by the eyes of someone adequate enough to handle it's spark, no? Timmy: Dude get me outta here Arrow To timmy "Worried Jimmy thinks he wants someone else" Arrow to jimmy "Doesnt think that, just exhausted with stupid" Arrow to pierre "stupid"

-

Eric: Ohh what's the point.. We're all just gonna die someday anyway.. Danny: Eeyup, experienced that one already. Eric: .... Are you okay? Danny (in head): Why is the sad one weirded out by me

-

Meanwhile: Gator (will explain later)

[mavsstar]

｡･ﾟ𝐎𝐡 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Summary︱Ransom comes to spend the holidays with his twin brother, Andy and his fiancé. He can't stand her at all despite her being one of the sweetest people on the earth. Turns out all they needed was to bond.

Pairings︱Ransom Drysdale x Virgin!Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Virgin!Fem!Reader

W.C︱2.8k

Warnings︱It's Ransom, that a big warning in itself, cursing, kissing, pet name: kitten, manipulation, slight coercion (if you blink you'll miss it), oral (f!), cheating, daddy kink

Author's note︱It's been too long and now I'm finally back! This was fun to make and I've had this idea in my head for weeks now! Have fun reading :) Feedback is appreciated!

You adored your fiancé Andy, he was a kindhearted gentleman that loved you with his entire being. You couldn’t ask for more in a man. Everyone around him approved of you and liked you quite a lot.

Well most of them. 

The only person who couldn’t get on board was his twin, Ransom. Though the feelings were mutual. You thought he was too crude and he thought you were too much of a prude. Unlike him, you’ve never vocalized your dislike towards him, preferring to be kind to him even if you wanted to sew his mouth shut. 

The good part was you rarely got to see the man. You were safe from seeing his face anywhere you went. That was until Andy came home with a surprise. 

“Ransom is going to spend the holidays with us this year.” 

You froze. “Excuse me?” 

“There’s too much going on and I won’t be able to make it home this year and Ransom doesn’t want to go spend the holidays with the family,” Andy began to explain, “I don't want him to be alone so I invited him to stay with us.” 

“Which holidays?” You asked, hoping it would just be Thanksgiving. 

“All of them.” 

It felt like someone dropped an anvil on you. He was going to spend at least a month with you in your shared house, day and night. “And he said yes?” You questioned, surprised he even gave Andy an answer. 

“I was surprised too,” he answered. “He’s coming on Thursday.” 

It was Tuesday, meaning you only had a day to prepare. You dropped your shoulders in defeat. “I better start preparing the guest room,” you said as you got up from the couch. 

Andy grabbed your arm as you tried to walk past him, pulling you into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head. “Look I know you two aren’t the best of friends and it’ll be difficult but I want him here with us. Maybe after he really gets to know you, you’ll get along.”

“There’s a better chance of me growing another inch than us getting along.” 

Thursday came a little bit too fast for your liking. One moment you were talking with Andy about Ransom and within a blink of an eye you were at the airport, waiting for him. His flight landed 15 minutes ago and most of the passengers were already off. But he just had to make a fashionably late entrance. 

“There’s my little brother!” Ransom exclaimed. 

“You’re older by a minute,” Andy said as he got up from his seat. 

“A minute and 10 seconds.” Ransom’s answer made Andy playfully roll his eyes. Ransom then turned his attention to you, flashing you a fake smile. “Look who’s here! Did you shrink while I was away? I almost didn’t see you.” 

It was early in the morning. Even more so to be dealing with Ransom’s remarks. You resisted the burning urge to roll your eyes at him. “It’s nice to see you Ransom, I hope you had a nice flight.” 

“It was the absolute worst actually-” He began to complain but it all became white noise to your brain. You just nodded your head as he complained, occasionally saying that must’ve sucked just to make it seem like you were actually paying attention. 

For the first couple of days Andy was able to keep him busy and out of your way but he had to go back to work, leaving you with him all day. At first he would stay for only part of your day, often going out to do something other than being in the house with you. Eventually he just stayed around the house more and more. 

“Are you seriously reading again?” Ransom asked as he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

You quickly tore your gaze from your book to look at Ransom. “Mhm,” you hummed in confirmation, going back to reading your book. 

“Weren’t you just reading this morning?” He asked. 

“I was finishing the last couple of pages. Andy doesn’t like it when I lose sleep to finish reading,” you answered. “This is a different book.” 

“Can I see?”’ He asked with complete sincerity. You then handed him the book only for him to throw it across the room, earning a small ‘Hey!’ from you. “Well stop reading, I’m bored.” 

“What do you want to do?” You asked him as you fully turned your body towards his. 

“If I knew what to do I wouldn’t be here, telling you I’m bored.” 

You decided to ignore his comment and pretend like he never said it in the first place. “Well…we could go grocery shopping.” 

“Grocery shopping? Really?” He questioned, unamused at your suggestion. Much to his dismay, he saw that you were 100% serious. “Fine, let's go.” 

The drive to the grocery store was longer than necessary. Ransom refused to let you drive, part of you figured it was an ego thing but he claimed that a man should always drive. Never the woman. He also refused to use a map, claiming that he knew where he was going. 

After 25 minutes of driving in circles, you finally got to the grocery store. It was practically empty, not a lot of people wanted to do their weekly grocery shopping at 7:27 pm. 

“Now that I’ve been thinking about it, you’re always at the house,” Ransom commented. “Do you not have a job?” 

“Not anymore,” you said as you pushed the cart towards the dairy section. “I used to be a secretary.” 

“Why’d you quit?” 

“Andy said I didn’t have to work anymore and he would take care of me.” You grabbed a gallon of milk and crossed it off your mental grocery list. You started to push the cart down the section towards the produce. “It was too overwhelming for me and Andy didn’t like that I was so stressed out.” 

“How hard can that be?” Ransom scoffed. 

“It’s a lot harder than you think Ransom,” you replied. “It didn’t help that I was one of the few women there. I had a terrible boss.” 

“What do you do all day then? Just sit there and look pretty while you wait for Andy to come home?” 

“I clean, run some errands, go out—I do the same things you do but you don’t seem the type of person to clean or run errands.” 

“Why would I?” He scoffed. “That's why I hired a maid and an assistant to do all that for me.” 

“Not surprised trust fund baby,” you muttered under your breath. 

“What did you say?” Ransom asked, having fully heard you. 

You looked up at him, “Oh nothing,” you lied, you even went as far as to pull out doe eyes. “Oh we need bread!” 

 “No, no, no,” Ransom repeated as he grabbed your upper arm, halting you from moving any further. “Repeat what you said.” 

“I said we need bread.” 

“Before that.” 

“I said nothing,” you answered, unknowingly pushing his buttons in the sweetest way imaginable. 

His hand traveled up your upper arm to your cheeks, slightly squishing them together as he inched closer to your face. You could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“Kitten, repeat what you said, I’m not going to ask again.” 

Your lips parted open but no sound came out. You felt heat pooling from the pit of your stomach rising to your face. You tried to peel your eyes away from his only for him to chase after them. 

“I-I said, not surprised trust fund baby,” you mumbled loud enough so he could hear it.  

The corner of his lip tugged into a sly smirk, “See now was that so hard?” He asked as he dropped his hand. “Good girl.” 

Ransom evoked a spark inside him that night. He noticed how your body went hot under his touch and he loved it. It was as if you have been untouched and you’re just now tasting a man’s touch. You would grow shy under his gaze if he stared at you for too long. You would jump every time his hands brushed your body. 

Ransom’s favorite part was when he would inch his face close to yours and your eyes would dart to his lips right before going back to his eyes. 

Though part of him couldn’t help but think it was all an act. There was no possible way a woman like you could be so innocent. That you would pretend to get flustered everytime he made a sexual innuendo. That you would get uncomfortable and squirm in your seat everytime a sex scene came on. 

It had to be an act. 

Like right now, you were in the kitchen cooking food for you and Ransom. You were wearing Andy’s sweater with a pair of small pj shorts and Ransom had made a crude comment. 

“You and Andy must've had crazy kitchen counter sex if that’s what you wear to cook.” 

“Oh my,” you squeaked out. “We don’t–uh–Andy and I-” 

“Oh please drop the act,” he scoffed.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “What act?” 

“That!” Ransom exclaimed. “The pretending you’re all innocent and being such a fucking prude. Everyone has sex, it’s normal.” 

Except you haven’t had sex yet. You always wanted to wait until marriage for personal reasons and Andy didn’t mind one bit. He completely respected your decision and liked the idea of waiting, it’s building tension the two of you would unleash on your wedding night. 

“It’s not an act Ransom,” you answered. “I just don’t feel comfortable talking about…it.”

“You’re kidding me right?” He remarked. He took your silence as a no. Then the realization slowly crept in his mind. “Unless…” 

“Unless what?” You questioned. 

“Unless you’re a virgin? But that’s impossible…right?” His tone was teasing and almost humiliating. 

You felt the shame burn your cheeks and you imagined the words ‘virgin’ written in big red bold letters across your forehead. People have assured you that it’s okay to be a virgin and everyone takes life at a different speed. You were just getting comfortable with it. 

“Answer me kitten.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

Ransom swallowed the last 4 steps that were between the two of you. His right hand went under your chin, softly lifting it up. “So he’s never touched you?” Ransom asked as his left hand slowly began to graze your body. 

“No.” Your breath hitched when his large hand rested on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You bumped into his chest with a soft grunt. His hands went to your back when he felt you shift backwards, caging you against him.

“Please let me go Ransom,” you softly pleaded as you tried to pry him off. 

“No,” he said as his head dipped to your neck, placing fervent kisses. “You want this and you know it.” 

“No–ngh–I can’t do this to Andy.” 

Ransom stopped the attack on your neck. You could see it in his face that he was bothered at the mention of his twin brother. “We’re not doing anything bad, kitten. We’re just having fun, you want us to get along, don’t you?” 

“This is bad Ransom, I’m cheating on my fiance,” you protested. “I can’t do this.” Ransom had you in his grip and he wasn’t going to lose you. He refused to. 

“Andy’s cheating on you,” he blurted out. 

“What?” You questioned him. 

“It’s obvious, kitten. How else was he going to stay with you? He’s a man after all and men have needs.” 

"You’re lying,” you argued. “Why should I believe you?” 

“Because I’m his brother and I know the type of person he is.” His hands went underneath your sweater, slithering their way up to your breasts. “So I think we can have some fun. It wouldn’t be fair after all.” 

Ransom’s lips crashed onto yours before you could give an answer. You tasted like the strawberries you were eating just mere minutes ago. With every passing second, his kisses grew hungrier. 

“Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obeyed and lifted yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist. He blindly stumbled into your bedroom. Carefully, he set you on the bed and unbeknownst to you, he had taken off your shorts and panties in one swift motion. 

His warmed calloused hand went to your thighs, spreading them as fast apart as he could. You were completely soaked. Ransom bit back a moan. “Oh kitten,” he purred. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” Ransom planted open mouth kisses on your ankle, working his way up to your inner thighs. Your head felt dizzy and your body was high off of his touch. When you felt Ransom kiss your cunt, you knew you were a goner. 

“Ransom,” you moaned out. 

“That’s not my name kitten,” Ransom murmured. He looked up at you through his eyelashes as he licked around your pussy lips. “It’s daddy. Now say it.” 

“Please daddy,” you whined. 

“If you stop saying it, I stop. Got it?” 

You rapidly nodded your yes, not trusting your own voice. You let out a strangled moan as Ransom licked a broad stripe against your pussy. 

“You taste so fucking sweet,” Ransom let out a moan of satisfaction, sending vibrations through you, making it more pleasurable than you ever imagined. 

Incoherent babbles left your mouth as he made precise, figure eights on your clit. You couldn’t help but lock your legs around his head, never wanting him to leave. You lazily propped yourself up on the bed to watch Ransom but it all went out the window when his lips sucked on your clit. 

“Oh my god!” You shrieked, your head falling back on the mattress. “Daddy! Feel s’good!” 

Ransom momentarily lifted his head, watching your blissed out state. “I know it does kitten,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Andy could never make you feel like this huh?” 

“No.” 

“I wonder how he would feel that I’m eating his pretty fiancé’s pussy? Making her scream daddy.” Ransom dipped his head back down and went at it again.

 His tongue goes through your fold, licking all your sweet wetness. You felt a familiar sensation only this time it was coming faster and harder. This felt nothing like this when you would play with yourself. 

“Oh daddy!” You screwed your eyes shut as you gripped the sheets. Your lower half took a mind of its own as you began to rock your hips against his face, chasing your high. A gasp fled your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over you. Suddenly the only word you knew was daddy, repeating it as if it was a prayer. 

“How was that, kitten?” Ransom teasingly asked. “Did daddy make you feel good?” 

“Mhm,” you blissfully hummed out. “S’good.” 

“That’s my girl,” Ransom praised as he pulled your shorts back up. “You did so good for me.” Ransom enjoyed watching you, you were spaced out and he didn’t even put his all into it. He could only begin to imagine how you would react when he really got done with you. 

“Now let's go finish cooking before Andy comes home.” He kissed you lips one more time before helping you off the bed.

Andy surprisingly came home earlier than he said he would. Usually would come home at 12, it was currently 10:06 pm. You had barely finished washing the dishes when you heard the door unlock.

“Hi honey!” Andy greeted you as walked over to kiss you. You turned your head to the side and his lips collided with your cheek. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned at your behavior. 

“Nothing,” you answered. “I’m heading off to bed, I’m really tired. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Goodnighttt,” Ransom sang as you left the room. 

“Goodnight Ransom.” 

Andy waited until you left the room to talk to Ransom. Once he saw he was in the clear, he turned to Ransom. “What the hell did you say to her?” 

“Nothing, why?”  Ransom asked, playing the innocent. “Trouble in paradise?” 

“Drop the act Ransom.” Andy stepped closer to him, placing his hands on his hips. “We were fine a couple days ago and now she’s acting weird. What did you do to her?” 

“I did nothing,” he said as he raised his hands in defense. 

Andy knew he was lying. If he really was telling the truth, he would’ve told him off and stormed off cursing at how his own brother doesn’t believe him. 

“Stay away from her,” Andy seethed through gritted teeth. “Don;t even think about laying a finger on her.” 

“Or what? You’re going to kick me out?” Ransom scoffed. “I saw her first and you took her away from me. I’m simply getting back what’s mine.” 

[soli-nepenthe]

Searing Touch (rewrite/divergent)

characters: Sylus/fem!MC (though can also be read as GN. 2nd per. POV)

genre: angst/comfort/slightest hints of fluff/vague ptsd?

warnings: angst, mild use of profanity, injury, slight religious reference./ minor allusion to No Way Out story.

word count: ~ 2600!

author's note: This is just my self-indulgent take on how the story could have gone as I felt MC and the banter in the original was disjointed and disappointing. After Sylus's sacrifice, he deserved better treatment than what he got. Hopefully, I amended some of those faults with this attempt. I hope you all enjoy reading!

Somewhere in the Northern District, Linkon City.

Sylus’s Apartment.

It was 3:00 AM by the time you decided to give up on sleep.

What should have been an infernally tedious Monday night had haphazardly turned sideways.

In theory, it had been a simple surveillance and retrieval mission – nothing outside of your hunter’s repertoire. According to your team’s intel, it was a clean smuggling setup with two main parties…. 

Hours later, you sat in the dimly lit living room of one of Sylus’s secure hideouts, still fretting over the small details of how you mishandled the evening. Sleep evaded you now, as it sometimes did, whenever you felt overwhelmed. If the mission wasn’t an outright failure–it was due to his interference. And the reason you could still mull over it—well, that was also because of him. 

Closing your eyes, you recalled the terrible impressions shard by broken shard – the oppressiveness of the white smoke from the stunning device as it blotted out your surroundings to the staccato of gunfire from different directions, and then the weight of his body rolling over yours as he shielded you from further harm. 

You knew the reasons why he waved off your concern of going to the hospital, but still, you worried for him. Without question, he had gambled his life for yours. And you felt miserable and thankful all at the same time. Of course, the life of a hunter straddled the border of life and death on any given day, but this was the first time a routine mission without Wanderers would have cost you greatly.

You recognized that your thoughts were starting to take a dangerous turn….

There was no comfort in a “what if”.

Rising from the couch, you went to look for where he might be.

All three bedrooms turned out to be finely furnished but devoid of his presence. 

The sound of running water behind a closed door soon drew your attention. Getting no response from knocking, you ventured to turn the knob anyway.

He had his back to you when you entered, the steam curling away to reveal bloodied rags and gauze littered about him as he blindly struggled to clean his wounds. 

Another anvil settled heavily on your heart at the desperate sight.

You blinked back the stinging sensation building behind your eyes and clawing up your throat, trying to find that sangfroid you had always prided yourself on. Turning to find a light switch on the wall, you pressed it, where it automatically raised the blinds to the only window in the bathroom.

Cool, silvery moonlight poured in, bathing half of his naked torso, his pale body now emulating the appearance of sculpted marble. The only difference, of course, were the scars and open wounds–your own personal Saint Sebastian.

“Sylus…let me help you.”

“Ah, kitten. I…I had a feeling…. you would come around.”

His voice sounded strained though you could tell he was trying to be jovial, perhaps for your benefit. 

The lights above the vanity flared brighter once you found the right switch.

“Tell me, what can I do to help?”

He fumbled with the gauze in his hand, dropping the roll into the sink. 

“Think….ugh…you can help me…take out this shrapnel?”

Out of habit, you nodded, knowing that he couldn’t possibly make out your gesture of assent. Taking the tweezers carefully from his hand, you guided him to sit on the edge of the tub while you made a quick assessment of the items you would need from the open first aid box.

Your knowledge of wound care was rudimentary at best, but you decided that you would do all that you could if it would ease the deep furrow of his brow or erase the grimace he tried to disguise as a cavalier smile. 

After rinsing your hands and prepping the tweezers, you resolved to keep in mind Zayne’s advice regarding situations like these— a level head will serve you better; try to always be calm.

“Stay as still as you can. And move only when I tell you to. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Very well.” he rasped, uncharacteristically obedient. “Wish I could…appreciate the sight of you as my personal nurse, heh.”

Apart from his pained but steady breaths, removing the pieces of shrapnel and cleaning and bandaging the wounds was slow, silent work. You half-expected him to playfully chide you for being so grave and meticulous in your ministrations, but sensing the seriousness of your intent, he did nothing to break the fragile stillness that encompassed you both. 

You only hoped that your efforts would help him self-heal faster. 

It was almost the same that time too…

Your hands had almost faltered on the last wound—a particularly nasty one–but despite how nervous you felt in suturing the gash, he encouraged you instead of pushing you away. Though you shared a small history together from varied run-ins these past few months, no one could deny that you both had been through quite a lot together. The vulnerability he showed you now was worlds apart from before. 

As you finished cleaning up, you tried to regain some sense of equanimity back, if only to string together a few commonplace words.

“All done. You…should be fine. I hope.” 

Without meaning to, you stumbled backwards in the direction of the sink, but he reached for you with his good arm before your back could hit it. He pulled you to the safety of his warm body. 

“Kitten, you’re shaking.”

He was looking down at you, his expression twisted in concern for you. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe…maybe things are starting to catch up to me now.”

“Come with me then.”

You weren’t sure if it was just muscle memory or if his sight had returned to normal, but he led you with little difficulty to his bedroom. He sat you on his bed. 

“I’ll get you some water.”

“Are your eyes better now?”

“I can make out shapes in the shadows, more or less. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

As you waited, you took note of the twinkling city lights from his bedroom window where they suffused the room with a weak, ghostly light. The moon was hidden now by dark wisps of cloud. From up here, it was hard to believe that such a beautiful view could hide a sinister web of greed and lawlessness…

Once he returned, you took long sips of water from an ornate glass meant to hold liquor. 

When you were done, you set it on the nightstand next to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” The kindness in his voice had tears welling up in your eyes.

That honest question alone had always been and would always be your undoing, no matter who asked it.

“Ahem, well…less thirsty,” he sat close to you, extending his good arm to rub small but comforting circles on your back, “but mostly repentant. And thankful, of course.”

You rubbed away the tears that had annoyingly come in full force now, despite your wish to hold back the deluge of emotions.

“I’ve told you this already,” he reached out with his wounded hand to catch your tears, “...don’t ever feel ashamed to be yourself in front of me. Cry all you want. You need to.”

“I don’t know…how….how can you be so…?”

You paused, failing to hold in another sob. 

You understood his point about catharsis. But logically, it made no sense to you how the person meant to comfort was now being comforted. There were so many things that you had wanted to say, things that he needed to hear from you, but something inside held you captive from uttering a word.

Unsure of why, he seemed to you like a bright flame amidst the shadowy dark. A lifeline you could hold on to. For a long moment, you pressed a hand against the solidity and heat of his form before tracking a path from his throat all the way down the palimpsest of his body. Each barely-visible scar that marred his skin was a memory. Your fingers traced over the faint lines and uneven contours of wounds that didn’t smoothly heal. No doubt there was pain and fear for each trial he lived through…and he faced each one alone, hadn’t he? 

He did nothing to impede your movements, his even breathing hitching a little as your hand drifted up, finding the surge of blood fluttering rapidly under your palm. There was no scar here. No marker that indicated this place where you had hurt him once, albeit unwillingly. 

Funny thing.

Your vision blurred with hot tears as you clung to him, finally allowing yourself to have a good long cry.

He was enduringly patient with you.

“I’m…I’m  so sorry, Sylus.”

The solemnity of your name falling from his lips emboldened you to say more. 

“I truly am grateful. Not just for tonight. But to have you in my life. I mean it.”

You felt his body tense slightly against yours before pulling you closer in a half-embrace, a moan-like sigh escaping his lips. He settled his chin atop your head, breathing in your scent.

His voice was above a hushed whisper when he decided to break the silence.

“Rest now. I’ll stay for as long as you need.” 

He moved the both of you near the headboard, entwining your fingers with his as you settled into a more comfortable position against him. In the wakeful hours where insomnia would normally be a torment for you–nothing of the kind happened this time around. A mysterious feeling of peace seemed to quell all your worries and doubts when he held you in the shelter of his embrace. 

You were safe. You were both safe. And more importantly, alive.

In no time at all, you drifted into the blessing of a dreamless sleep.

Somewhere in the Northern District. Linkon City. 

Tuesday. 1:15 PM.

The sensation of something golden and warm brushed against your eyelids, stirring you from sleep. A chink of sunlight had managed to slip through the now drawn curtains. You awoke to find your companion had long since left the bed, but not without propping your head with a pillow and covering you with a knitted blanket that smelled faintly of vanilla. Checking your hunter’s watch, you noted the time and the voicemails that awaited your attention–they were all from Captain Jenna. 

Fuck. Of course. Headquarters would want a full report concerning all the details of the botched transaction. Your vigilance had faltered. Pride before the fall, indeed. You raked a hand through your disheveled hair.

With a heavy sigh, you steeled yourself for the unpleasant conversations that would follow.

Unlucky missions like last night, though few and far between, truthfully made you question whether your purpose had been misplaced. And yet, there was no room to entertain self-doubt, not when you had duties to attend to. Once you tied up these loose ends, you would check in with Sylus, and not merely for an update on the smuggled goods that he assured you his people would take care of.

There was something heartening in finding him preparing a late breakfast –more like brunch– for the two of you in the open kitchen, seemingly back to his old self. He was humming a pleasant melody when you walked in. You inwardly prayed he had gotten some form of rest.

“Morning…er, Good afternoon, I mean.” 

He slowly turned to face you, his lips crooking into an easy smile. A real one. You much preferred him like this. 

“I take it that you’re okay now?” 

The lilt in your voice was hopeful as you followed him to the café-style breakfast nook where he plated Belgian-style waffles, an assortment of fruit and cream, honey and jam, along with a pot of steaming coffee and an assortment of teas. The gold trimming on the china glinted in a welcoming way as it caught the afternoon light.

“As good as new, thanks to you.”

He even turned around so that you could appraise him, his motions free from any semblance of stiffness or pain.

“I’m so glad.” 

His garnet eyes twinkled with mirth as they beheld yours.

“Actually, I have.… something for you–” he gestured to a black suitcase on the coffee table in the living room, “it should help you neatly wrap up your investigation. I hope.”

It dawned on you yet again how much you owed him for his help. More than likely Luke and Kieran were also involved; you would have to make it up to them as well. As if reading your mind, he stifled the apology that was on your lips.

“If anything, I bear some of the blame for not being honest the moment I contacted you…”

“What do you mean?” 

Your hands grasped the back of the chair in a small attempt to brace yourself.

“Last night was an ambush. My sources confirmed that. Unfortunately, misinformation can have its consequences. And I was worried…so worried that I couldn’t let other people deal with it.”

The notion that you were fed tampered information or that you were made to believe that the assignment was nothing more than standard fare as far as protocore smuggling was concerned had not even crossed your mind. As the leader of Onychinus, his information network had to be extensive, and as such, it was easier for him to ascertain traps….including the one meant for the Hunter’s Association last night.

His unexpected presence was far from being the nuisance you deemed it was the moment you heard the husky notes of his voice through your earpiece. An illicit deal in the cover of night in the hinterland of Linkon’s borders (yet across the river from the N109 zone’s jurisdiction) was beneath his notice. And yet, he came, for you.

Just for you.

Your hands gripped the back of your chair harder, your gaze locked on his own.

“I’m selfish. I’d rather risk exposing my weaknesses when I protect you than see you injured.”

“Sylus…”

“It’s not enough to make amends, but will you stay a little longer, and share a meal with me before you go?”

He offered you his hand in earnest supplication. 

Somehow gathering enough composure to walk up to him, you cradled his hand in your smaller ones. 

“Of course. I can make some time for you.” 

He bent forward to press a soft kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger there before reluctantly pulling away. 

“Wonderful. Shall we?”

While the food he prepared smelled sweet and enticing, making your stomach gnaw in actual hunger, all you could do was stare at him, quietly reflecting on the significance of all the small details. It wasn’t surprising when he finally noted the intensity of your steady gaze, elegantly setting down his cup of coffee on the table. Maybe he did have some kind of otherworldly presentient ability in that protocore eye of his, because at the moment you thought it, he extended his right hand across the table. 

Without hesitating, you delicately weaved your fingers with his. Despite the desire to be mindful of his bandages, he flexed his fingers about yours, as if testing the give of your hand against his. There was no feeling equal to it; all you knew was that your heart felt lighter than it had in a very long time. 

Normally, you would have considered your current actions as reckless and unprofessional, but in your view, trading away this rare fragment of time with him would have felt more than just criminal. 

Whatever the fallout might be, you would handle it in some way or another, like you always did.

For now, all that mattered was the present, and the things that passed between you as you enjoyed each other’s company on a not-so-everyday Tuesday afternoon.

END.

author's final notes:

There are probably a thousand directions this could have gone, but I hope no one minds the heavy dose of angst and comfort combination. This is just how it seemed to unfold for me as I wrote this. It's just a little sad that MC treats him better as a cat butler in the event than in this story....

Once again, to reiterate, this was very self-indulgent take.

Anyway, thank you so very much for reading! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Have a lovely day!

(NB: * Please don't feed my work into AI. )

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Eighteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some dark stuff pertaining to an abusive past relationship, attempted murder, and vague details of a car crash. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.4k

A/N : Set about a week after the last one! I'm honestly a little nervous about this chapter, I hope you like it! As always thanks so much for reading!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN | CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Chapter Eighteen

The whole world came crashing down around you in a single moment. 

You didn’t realise until it was too late to stop it, until it was too late to change anything and avoid the inevitable consequences.

The private investigator took the envelope full of cash before sliding the file across the table to you, sparing you one last glance and a couple of words of warning before climbing out of the booth and heading towards the exit. Your gaze followed him out of the diner and onto the street, where he walked past -

Your heart stopped.

Frank.

He had his phone out, pointing right at you through the diner window, a mix of betrayal and disappointment on his face. It took a moment to figure out what was happening, for the penny to finally drop, but when it did, you felt your entire body fill with panic; he thought you were the security threat, the person who’d been digging into anvil over the last couple of months. 

Your heart started to race, knowing that he was going to tell Billy what he thought he’d seen, that he’d seen you paying off the PI who’d been snooping around Anvil. You scrambled out of the booth, almost tripping over your own feet, desperate to get to Frank and fix the situation before it spiralled out of control.

But he was already on the phone by the time you got outside. You kept the file clutched to your chest, holding it against you like a shield as you approached the imposing figure of Frank Castle, stomach knotting as you heard him speak.

“Yeah, Bill, I’ll deal with it,” his eyes fixed on you as you stopped in front of him. 

You waited in silence, for a moment thinking you could just about hear Billy’s voice on the other end of the phone before Frank hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need you to give me that,” Frank said, holding out his hand, expecting you to hand the file over. 

“I can’t.” Because, despite everything that was happening, you knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t let anyone see the file, couldn’t let them know about your past.

“Y’know, the crazy thing is that I thought Bill was gonna be the one to break your heart, not the other way around,” Frank shook his head.

“You don’t understand -”

“Pretty sure I do,” he interrupted, not willing to listen to your explanations, “you’ve had your PI lookin’ into Anvil and Bill for weeks now, so give it up.”

“No, that’s not -” but you could already tell that he wasn’t going to listen to you, that he’d made up his mind. “I need to see Billy, I have to explain this to him.”

“That’s great ‘cause he’s already waiting at Anvil for you.”

You stared at him for a moment before realising that you had a choice to make - he couldn’t very well bundle you into his car in broad daylight, but you were aware how bad it would look for you if you refused to go with him. You’d just given up every single dollar to your name for the file in your hand and, now, you needed to make sure that it hadn’t all been for nothing.

“Okay,” you relented, “take me to Billy.”

Frank gave a grunt and nodded towards his truck. You followed after him, climbing into the passenger seat and keeping your eyes fixed forward. Once he’d started the engine, you reached for your phone, hastily typing up a message to Karen, wanting to try and explain what was going on before Frank told her.

“Who you texting?” Frank asked suddenly, taking his eyes off the road.

“Karen, I -” he snatched your phone before you could finish, your thumb managing to hit send on the half finished message as he pulled it away from you. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not draggin’ Karen into this shit,” he told you, his eyes returning to the road just in time to keep from running a red light - a sharp stop that caused your anxiety to spike even more, reminding you of the accident years ago. You were so distracted that you only caught the last half of what Frank was saying, “- when Bill’s done with you.”

You didn’t argue, didn’t ask him to repeat himself. You just wanted him to concentrate on the road. So, you remained silent, clutching the file to your chest and watching out the windscreen. The way he drove across the city made your heart race and your chest tighten, practically jumping out of your skin with every screech of brakes or honk of a horn.

And, when you reached Anvil some fifteen minutes later, you were quick to scramble out of the truck, almost gasping for breath.

He gave another grunt, indicating that you should follow him and, stupidly, you did just that. You didn’t realise that anything was wrong until you were in the elevator and realised that you were being taken down to the basement level instead of up to Billy’s office.

“Why aren’t we going to Billy’s office?” You asked, dread already starting to coil in your stomach.

“Bill doesn’t want you in his office,” Frank answered as the doors slid open, revealing a cold and terrifying looking corridor.

“I want my phone back.” You told him, unable to stop the fear from filling your tone.

“Told you, you can have it back when Bill’s done with you,” he motioned for you to start moving and, with no other option, you did.

When the elevator doors slid shut, your thoughts started to spiral to dark places you didn’t want them to go, to memories of feeling trapped and powerless. A lump rose in your throat and tears were already starting to sting your eyes as your footsteps echoed down the long hallway. When Frank stopped and opened a door, you let him usher you inside before you realised your mistake.

The door closed behind you, leaving you trapped and alone in what appeared to be an interrogation room. Had your state of mind been better, you might have realised that the room was used for training new recruits and conducting interviews but, since you were panicking, all you could think was that you were going to be trapped there until you confessed to all of the things you hadn’t done.

You turned back to the door quickly, pulling at the handle. You weren’t surprised to find it locked, but it did nothing to stop the panic that was raging inside of you.

The room had a long metal table and two chairs, one on either side, but you didn’t move to sit. You couldn’t move at all, terror had you rooted in place, your fingers still tightly gripping the file against your chest. There was a camera blinking in the corner of the room and you felt your stomach drop; was Billy watching you right now, could he see the terror on your face? (And, if he could, why wasn’t he coming to help you?)

Minutes passed before Billy stepped into the room. You stayed frozen as he stepped around you and you waited - you waited for him to tell you that this was all some big mistake, that he knew you’d never do the things Frank had accused you of. But it never came. As he took a seat, your eyes closed tight, silently willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.

Another minute passed in total silence, like he was waiting for you to speak first and dig your own grave, but you couldn’t even look at him, much less form the words you needed to explain all of this to him.

“Just give me the file,” he finally said.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, eyes still closed tight.

“Who are you working for?” There was something cold in his voice, something broken and full of pain and, despite everything he was putting you thought, some part of you longed to comfort him.

“No one, I’m not -”

“Don’t lie to me!” The sound of his open palm hitting the surface of the table caused you to flinch, your eyes opening as you took a step back and pressed yourself against the wall, needing to put as much distance between you and Billy as possible. “You paid someone to look into Anvil, into me.”

“No, that’s not what happened! You don’t understand -”

“What were you after; finances? Mission details? How much were you getting paid?” His tone got sharper with every word.

“I wasn’t after anything, that’s not what this is. It’s not about Anvil -” you tried desperately still, somehow, holding onto some small glimmer of hope that you could fix things before they got too broken.

 “Bullshit!”

“Please, Billy,” you struggled to find the words in your panic, “you promised that you’d trust me, that you’d -”

“I did trust you!”

His use of the past tense caused something to break inside of you, and you felt a sort of pain that you hadn’t felt in years, the sort of pain that could only be inflicted by someone you loved.

“Stop, please, Billy just -” you tried again, blinking back tears.

Everything was falling apart around you, the future you’d let yourself hope for was slipping away; you were going to move in with him, you were going to go work for The Bulletin, and you were finally going to start rebuilding your life after so many years of just existing and scraping a living. All your dreams were dying all at once, all because he wouldn’t listen to you, because he couldn’t trust you.

Some part of you knew that if you could just find the words, you’d be able to make him understand, but your panicked, racing mind couldn’t focus enough to say or do anything to help fix things.

“How long?” He asked coldly, ignoring your tears. “How long have you been lying to me, using me?”

“I wasn’t lying! Why won’t you listen to me? Why can’t you trust me?” You heard yourself begging desperately.

“Because you’ve been lying to me for months!” His voice got louder, sharper, and you no longer recognised the man in front of you. This wasn’t your Billy, this was someone else entirely. “You know, you really had me fooled, pretending to be this wounded little thing, acting like you wanted me, like we had something.”

“It wasn’t an act!” You managed to raise your voice to match him, desperate to make him listen, to convince him that you still cared, but Billy didn’t even seem to hear it. “Please, just - just let me explain. I can explain this.”

“Explain what? That none of this was real? That you tricked me into wanting you so you could get close enough to stab me in the back? Did you get paid extra to fuck me or was jumping into my bed just part of the game for you?” You could still hear the pain in his tone, but the moment Billy said those words to you, something inside of you snapped.

Your stomach continued to tie itself in knots. You hated every little thing about this, hated how he thought you were as bad as all of the other people who had used him and lied to him to get what they wanted. But your pain quickly started to turn to anger - he wasn’t the only one who’d ever been hurt, he wasn’t the only one who’d been lied to and used. As hurt as Billy obviously was by this whole situation, he’d broken his promises to you; he wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t hear you out, wouldn’t trust you.

You were being blamed for something you hadn’t done and you were going to lose everything because of it. Again.

“You think I jumped into bed with you?” Your tone turned sharper, colder, and more certain - because, in all of this, if you were certain of one thing, it was that you did not just jump into bed with him. Finally you had his attention, just in time for you to tell him; “falling in love with you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Billy. And you’ve just managed to prove why it was such a stupid idea.”

It was the first time you’d dared utter that you loved him aloud, but you were no longer scared of how he was going to react to the revelation or how vulnerable it would make you feel. It was too late to care about any of that. You’d come to Anvil hoping to save things with Billy but that dream was now over. 

And, for the first time since all of this began, you realised that the truth of your past couldn’t hurt you anymore. It didn’t matter if Billy knew because he’d already given up on you, whatever was between you was over now, and everything you’d done to try and preserve it had been for nothing.

“Fine,” you relented, forcing yourself to step away from the wall and towards the table. Once you were close enough you slammed the file down in front of him so hard that its contents spilled out across the table; photographs of you, notes about your work, your friends and your finances. 

Billy’s eyes dropped, quickly looking over it, starting to move things, rummaging through the paperwork, trying to make sense of it.

“It was never about you or Anvil. He was looking for me. And I just spent every penny I had paying him off so I wouldn’t have to leave New York, so I wouldn’t have to leave you. But I guess the jokes on me, because you don’t even care enough to keep your promises to me and just listen for five fucking minutes.” By the time you’d finished, you had to cover your mouth to try and suppress the sobs that were desperate to escape you.

Billy stayed silent, rifling through the pages and photographs in front of him, seeming to become more frantic with every passing second as he looked for something, anything, to prove that he hadn’t just destroyed your relationship for nothing.

You watched him for a second, knowing exactly what he’d find in the file, and knowing the questions he’d inevitably have for you when he found the details of your sister's death, and the car crash that had left you scarred. But it was too late for any of that now, he’d lost any right to ask anything about your past.

Moving back to the door, you gave the handle a sharp tug, even though you were pretty certain that the door was still locked.

“Wait -” his broken tone caused you to bristle. Where once you would have felt compassion, you now only felt anger.

“Let me out.”

“I don’t understand,” he told you, as he got to his feet and started to move towards you, his expression one of confusion instead of anger. You held up a hand, wanting him to keep his distance and Billy stopped. In his hand he was holding a copy of the photograph that he’d seen on your bedside table all those weeks ago, the photo of you and your siblings as children. “Please, help me understand this. I want to understand.”

“Which part, Billy? The part where you refused to listen, when you wouldn’t hear me out, when you wouldn’t trust me like you promised?” A hand scrubbed at your cheek, desperately trying to wipe away your tears, not wanting him to see just how much he’d wounded you. “Or the part where you thought so little of me that you thought I was fucking you just to get information on your company?”

“I didn’t know, I -”

“You wouldn’t let me explain!” You yelled and it was Billy’s turn to flinch at your tone. “I gave up everything I had to get that file, and now it doesn’t even matter. None of this matters anymore.”

“It matters, it -” he tried, obviously struggling for words, “- why didn’t you tell me?

“Why didn’t you believe me?” you threw back at him. ”Why is it so hard for you to trust me? Do you even trust anyone?”

“I’m sorry, I never -”

“Just - just stop. It’s too late.” You shook your head. It hurt too much and every word, every plea that left him only made the ache in your chest feel worse. “You promised me that you’d listen. I trusted you and you ruined it. You’ve ruined us.” 

“No... don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.” His voice continued to crack and break, and it was almost enough to make you want to back down, but you knew you couldn’t. Not after this. He’d broken his promise to you and left you feeling more wounded and alone than you’d ever felt. “I’m sorry, let me fix this, sweetheart, please.”

“Fix this?” You almost managed to laugh through the tears. “There is no fixing this, Billy. You’ve ruined it. You broke my heart.”

“No, no... please, I -” for a moment he looked at you like those three little words were on the tip of his tongue, like he was ready to confess his love, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Just stop. You don’t get to fight for me, Billy. Not now. Not after this.” You told him angrily. “I told you I couldn’t do this if you didn’t trust me.”

“You said you fell in love with me,” the words came out so softly that you almost didn’t hear them.

You could see the thinly masked distress on his face, the pain and misery that you’d managed to cause with that one, silly admission. You hated yourself for blurting it out like that, like you were some character in a soap opera or some shitty romance novel. And, if he’d been anyone else, you might have been angrier at his obliviousness to your feelings - of course you’d fallen in love with him, it had been so fucking obvious - but Billy had always been honest with you; he didn’t know love, didn’t understand it. All the people who were supposed to love him and abandoned him.

But not you. That was not what this was. You weren’t abandoning him, he’s pushed you to breaking point. This time it was Billy’s fault.

“What did you think was gonna happen?” You dared to ask, not even bothering to try and hide your pain anymore. “I’m not like you, Billy, I can’t just turn off my emotions whenever things get difficult.”

“You love me?” He took a step closer, the look on his face suggesting that he still thought that there was some way that he could fix things.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me, please, I -”

The door opened and, before he could finish that thought, you were rushing back out into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between yourself and Billy as possible. He followed after, your name dying on his lips when he saw Karen and Frank standing there.

“Sorry, Bill, she -” Frank started, looking at Karen who was now holding your phone.

“You’re both assholes,” she stated and neither man dared argue with her. Obviously, thankfully, she’d managed to figure out what was going on and where you were just from the half of a text message that you’d managed to send before Frank had confiscated your phone. 

Her arm quickly pulled around your shoulders and she started to lead you towards the elevator while you tried to choke back tears. You didn’t dare look back until you were in the elevator; Billy looked heartbroken, following after you but keeping his distance.

“Please, I -” he tried.

“You’ve done enough, Billy. Just leave her alone.” Karen snapped as the doors slid shut and, a moment later, the floodgates opened and you started to sob uncontrollably, knowing that you’d lost everything.

TWO HOURS EARLIER.

Your heart was racing, thumping out a painful and uneven beat in your chest.

When Karen had told you that a private investigator had been asking around about you at The Bulletin, you’d put things together pretty quickly. You had her set up a meeting later that morning for you, hoping that you could fix things before they got out of control, even though your every instinct told you to pack a bag and get out of New York as quickly as you could.

You didn’t want to have to run, you didn’t want to leave the life that you were starting to build in the city. You didn’t want to leave the man that you loved.

Before heading to the diner to meet the PI, you stopped at the bank, withdrawing every penny that had, hoping that it would be enough, hoping that you could pay him off and fix everything before things spun out of control.

He was already waiting in the diner when you arrived, sitting in a booth by the window; a grizzled looking guy, well into his forties, who’d obviously been in the PI game for decades. As you slid into the seat opposite him, you felt your guts start to twist with a mix of anxiety and fear.

“If I’d known that this was the quickest way to get you out of hiding, I’d’ve done it weeks ago,” he stated before you’d even gotten comfortable. “I take it you wanted to meet to make me an offer?”

You took a breath, trying to steady your still-racing heart. “How much would it cost for you to go back to Florida and pretend you couldn’t find me?”

He almost seemed shocked that you knew where he was from for a second, but it was quickly hidden behind a lazy sort of smile.

“More than you’ve got,” he stated and your heart sank. “I’m a little surprised that you don’t seem surprised by any of this.”

“I’m not,” you offered, already feeling like you were wasting your time. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Scott started looking for me. Did he tell you why - did he tell you why he wants to find me?”

“No, and I didn’t bother to ask - usually don’t when the money’s this good.” He shrugged before sitting forward in his seat. “Go on then; what’d you do to this guy? I figured you either broke his heart or you took something of his. Must’ve been something big for you to spend these last few years running all up and down the country.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you voice cracked at how helpless you suddenly felt, “He tried to kill me, and that’s probably why he wants me back.”

That seemed to unsettle the PI and you decided to use it to your advantage.

“I take it you know about the accident?” You asked and the PI gave an awkward sort of nod, not knowing what point you were going to try to make. “It wasn’t an accident, he deliberately swerved the car off the road because I’d finally told him that I was leaving him.” Your voice continued to crack, threatening to break. “He pulled himself out of the car and left me there to die. I had to crawl through fire and broken glass to save myself,” you rolled up your sleeve, letting him see the scars, along with the sickening S that Scott had carved into your skin. “That’s why he wants to know where I am. He wants to finish the job.”

The PI let out a slow exhale and it was more than obvious from the way he shifted in his seat that he hadn’t been expecting that story, that he’d been lied to and used by Scott.

A trembling hand wiped at your eye, you were determined not to cry despite everything you’d just been forced to reveal.

“Look, I feel for you, but this is a big payday and -”

You reached into your purse and quickly placed the envelope on the table between you.

“That’s everything I have,” you told him, sniffing back tears, “you can have it all, just - please, give me the file and don’t tell him I’m here. I just want to be able to live my life. I don’t want to have to start over again.”

“You’d leave that rich boyfriend of yours?” He asked, like he almost didn’t believe what you were trying to tell him.

“If I had to. But I don’t want to. Scott has already stolen years of my life, please don’t help him take more. There’s just over fifteen grand in that envelope, I know it’s not a lot but -”

Your heart threatened to stop as he picked up the envelope and started thumbing through the stack of notes inside.

“This is everything you’ve got,” he stated with the certainty of someone who’d looked into your accounts. “You’re willing to give up everything just to make sure this guy doesn’t find you?”

“Yes...”

The moment that followed seemed to linger for an eternity; him looking at you like he was trying to decide what to do, while you stared back, silently praying to any god that might listen to you. 

There was no holding back the relieved sob that slipped from you when he finally put the envelope in his pocket and slid the file across the table to you.

“I’ll tell him I lost track of you after the six months you spent in Chicago.”

“Thank you.

He gave something of a grumble as he started to pull his coat on and got to his feet, ready to walk away, but something made him stop. “Y’know, that boyfriend of yours isn’t as squeaky clean as you think. I’d be careful if I were you - and, maybe, you should ask him where his mother is.”

He didn’t give you the chance to ask what he meant, before he turned and left the diner, your gaze following him out the door and onto the street, watching as walked right past Frank Castle, who was holding his phone and photographing the entire exchange. 

Chapter Nineteen

END NOTES : Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ok so this is probably the chapter than I've been most nervous about so I hope people enjoy the drama and angst! I know this probably wasn't what people were expecting from this chapter, but I won't say too much because I don't want to spoil anything for future chapters.

As always thanks so much for reading and sticking with this, it really does mean the world to me!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

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[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 29

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 29: the aftermath

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blackwater lunged at me, hands enclosing around my throat. I couldn't move. My limbs wouldn't listen. I was helpless as he pressed harder still. I needed to breathe. Needed to move. Get off!

Alastor's presence yanked me into the ground. Blackwater clambered after me. His voice was a horrible screeching sound, like a combination of all different voices pitched at different tones.

"Wake up!"

My eyes snapped open to Husker's face. I abruptly drew in a sharp, long breath like I hadn't breathed in hours. I whined as I sucked in and expelled the precious air.

Every muscle in my body hurt. Husker was holding me up with both hands but even the muscles I weren't using were painfully sore. My head was aching too. It wasn't a migraine; something heavier.

"Welcome back." Husker gave a nervous smile. I looked around to see I was in my old room.

"Holy hell toots, you almost died there," Angel said from the other side of the bed. My ear flicked up and turned. My mouth dropped slightly open in a look of shock. "What? What'd I say?" he asked nervously.

I tilted my head, careful with how sore my neck muscles were, and flicked my ear again. No. That wasn't possible. I looked to Husker for help.

"Is it your hearing?" he prompted. I tried to speak but it turned into a painful coughing fit. He lifted a hand from my arm to snap his fingers by that ear. I heard nothing and my ear barely reacted. "You or Althea can heal it, don't worry."

I had Angel magic. Of course I could heal it. Right?

"Alastor," I croaked. My lips were cracked and my throat was dry, all scratchy, and sore.

"He's fine," Husker said, bringing a cold glass of water to my lips. I found it nearly impossible to lift my arms. I could move them a hair but lifting was an entirely different struggle. "You're in far worse shape than him."

After I drank the whole glass, he helped me lay back down. I tried lifting my arms again and found I could but with a great deal of effort. They felt like they had anvils tied to them.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, voice finally returning. It felt hard to focus on anything, like my mind was all over the place. I let out a wide yawn.

"You really pushed your limits." Husker pushed my hair to the side so it wasn't in my face.

"The factory...people might've survived."

"No one survived. Alastor told us where it was and Charlie teleported us. It was miles under the water by the time we got there."

I looked up at the ceiling. It felt like I was barely clinging to coherent thoughts. "Other factories."

"We'll hit them one by one. There's an Overlord meeting tomorrow night."

"How long have I been asleep?" I had to restart the sentence a few times just to make it coherent.

"A couple days. You've been through—"

The door creaked open and Alastor's red ears poked in. His worried expression turned into a smile as we made eye contact. He crossed the room to where Husker was sitting on the edge of the bed. I noticed his walk was slow, almost calculated, and his cane sounded heavier on the wood. He had a bandage around his head but he still wore his normal attire. Always proper. Always put together. Always Alastor.

Husker stood up to allow him to sit, leaving with Angel to grab food for me. Alastor ran the back of a single claw along my cheek. I turned my head into it, my hands heavy over my stomach and unable to move from the covers. He turned his hand to let his palm rub gently on my skin.

"I am glad to see you awake." His radio filter was off and his voice sounded deeper and more crackly. It must be from the screaming when they tried to operate on him.

"You're okay," was all I could say. The world was at a strange, slight slant and the colors of the room seemed vibrant. I was really starting to lose it.

"That is the second time you've saved me, darling." He planted a kiss on my forehead. "I suppose you aren't as useless as you once were."

I chuckled, pain pinching my lungs as I did so. I opened my mouth and took several seconds to form my sentence. "Poor way of saying thank you."

"Perhaps this will suffice?" He pressed a gentle kiss on my lips. My muscles relaxed and I wished he would press just a tad bit harder. He reached out with his presence to interlace with mine.

He said something else but I didn't hear at first. The second time I heard but couldn't understand. The third I simply just couldn't comprehend anything. He said something different and placed a kiss on my forehead, pushing his weight on his cane to help him stand.

My hands didn't work and my mind was all over the place. I let out a loud whine as he turned to leave. I licked my dry lips and gave him a desperate look. Please understand what I'm asking, even if I don't.

To my great relief, he walks around the bed and sits on the vacant side. I used what little energy I have to shuffle closer so my nose is up against his coat. He smelled like a bonfire, a sweet one. His gentle claws thread through my hair and around my horns, carefully scratching in all the right spots.

I was asleep within seconds.

****

"Darling, I don't think it's wise for you to attend this meeting," Alastor tried gently. We were pushing the time, risking the chance of being late to the Overlord meeting with Lucifer. I had managed to stand on my own to dress myself but I was far from recovered, one might even argue that I shouldn't even be awake.

"I need to get rid of Blackwater's soul," I told him, clipping the necklace of his crest around my neck. I wore the same black and red attire I had previously to this type of meeting: a gorgeous red dress with white lining on the hem.

"Then we request Lucifer to visit. You should be resting right now." He placed one hand on my hip and the other on my cheek. He was smiling but his eyes showed concern. My hearing was still broken on the one side. Althea couldn't heal it but there was still a chance that I could with my Angelic magic.

"They need to see me there," I argued, "They need to see me give his soul to Lucifer. I just..." I teetered slightly and he pulled me close to keep me upright. "I need your energy when I do. Please."

His eyes examined my face, pupils shifting slightly as he did. Our magic hadn't separated since I woke up so I was reading into his exact thoughts and feelings. He knew I was right but his concern and care was trying to overwhelm it. I ran one hand up his spine and felt him calm surprisingly fast.

I laid my cheek on his chest and said quietly, "I want your help."

That did it.

He agreed with a heavy sigh and helped me walk through the house. Using shadows made my head spin so he didn't dare try to travel like that. Teleporting was its own problem, the motion spiking a migraine and making my limbs buzz in a funny way. I clung to him, taking a slow, grounding breath before walking through the palace doors.

The last of the Overlords entered the large room. My claws tapped on the tile floor and I clung tighter to Alastor's arm. He was walking slowly for me on purpose. Everything I did had to have intent, my limbs feeling like heavy magnets. Heads turned as we walked in and followed as Alastor led me to Lucifer's chair, the King of Hell standing with a smile.

His smile turned to surprise as I carefully knelt on one knee, hand extended upward. Charlie had given him a heads up about taking Blackwater's soul from me. He had plagued my sleep and even my waking mind. Even now he was trying to claw his way up through my thinned magic.

"Let's take that soul off your hands," Lucifer said smoothly, hand touching mine. I drew on Alastor's energy as I pulled Blackwater through my shields. Lucifer stood beside me in my mind space and waited. Blackwater made a run for me but barely got halfway when Lucifer's gold magic enclosed around him. I drew on more energy from Alastor to help solidify Blackwater's soul in order for Lucifer to take him from me.

A moment later, I blinked my eyes open to Lucifer's black boots. I lifted my head as he withdrew his hand, gold sparks fading away. The strain on my magic from holding Blackwater was gone and it felt like a heavy weight had just been lifted off my chest.

Thankfully Alastor was keeping me upright and practically lifted my entire weight to my feet. He then led me to his vacant chair and stood beside me, arms folded behind his back. Granted I was physically weak but such a motion was shocking from him, even the other Overlords didn't seem to know what to think of it.

"Well, uh, this certainly brings things full circle," Lucifer started, sitting down in his black and red seat, "but we need to ensure all of his assets are destroyed. Especially since we've lost four surface Overlords."

The conversation carried on for an hour. The Overlords fought over who would attack what factory and several attempts to gain more territory. The fighting was annoying and Lucifer repeatedly told them to settle territory claiming at the surface. Fortunately, everyone was engrossed in the conversation and failed to notice my nodding off. Alastor would consistently touch my shoulder to keep me upright and wake me up. Everything felt very heavy and my muscles ached from the strain. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to curl up against Alastor's side and fall asleep for hours.

Eventually, to my great relief, the meeting came to an end. The Overlords filed out of the room but Vox lingered, scowling, and holding my eyes for a moment too long. Alastor stepped up to block my view from him and helped me up to my feet. I hooked my arm around his and thanked Lucifer for taking Blackwater's soul. The King of Hell himself gave his own kind of bow and thanked me for it.

Alastor led me to the front of the palace doors before teleporting back up to the surface. My knees buckled as soon as my feet hit the ground, Alastor's other arm moving at lightning speed to catch me. I gripped at his shirt, fearing I would tear it, as my fingers slipped against the fabric when he hoisted me back up.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, suddenly unable to keep my eyes open all the way.

Alastor banished his cane and reached down, lifting my legs up so he was carrying me bridal style. My hand grabbed the spot near his neck as I leaned my weight into him. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit his shoulder. The smell of his cedarwood, smokey scent was like a sleeping drug. I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep until I was being placed on soft sheets and warm covers pulled up to my shoulder.

I pried my tired eyes open as Alastor straightened up. Everything about his form, from his chest, to his ears, to his antlers, to his face, everything was gratifyingly appealing. Once upon a time I had hated him. Once upon a time I wanted nothing more than to be an ocean away from him. Now, I could barely handle him being in a different room.

"Don't leave," I mumbled as he walked away. My nerves abated slightly at the sight of his room.

He chuckled. "I am coming to join you, my love." He walked to the other side of the bed and, with a snap of his fingers, changed out of his usual suit and into a plain black long sleeve and pants. He climbed in bed as elegantly as ever and shifted close.

"Why always a long sleeve?" My words were starting to slur together. I sounded drunk.

"Does it bother you?" he questioned amusingly. He positioned himself so that his arm was under my head. I hooked my arm on his opposing side and tried to pull myself onto my side. He pulled me the rest of the way until I was leaning my face on his shoulder, tail wrapping comfortably around his ankle.

"I like your skin," I slurred once again, hand lazily reaching up to touch his cheek. I loved seeing his genuine smile. He snapped his fingers and the fabric on my cheek disappeared. I reached my hand further down to touch his other arm, skin as smooth as I thought. My smile grew.

"Time for sleep, my love," he kissed my forehead and brought my hand to rest on his chest, his own laying on top of mine. I was asleep within seconds.

****

It took a full week in order for the heaviness to go away. I was still incredibly tired all the time, stealing naps left and right where I could. Althea couldn't necessarily heal anything, and neither could I, aside from my one ear, since it was mostly all mental health. My soul was trying to regenerate its energy and no one except myself could do that. It was aggravating to deal with since it was very time consuming.

Althea was determined for me to sleep even more than what I was doing already. She was having me take long walks with Reagan, Vivian, or Vilcin. The more tired I was, the more I would sleep, the faster I would heal. That was Althea's train of thought, anyways.

I managed to evade her one cool evening and hide away in Alastor's room. I opened the window and curled up with pillows, the familiar red blanket, and my sketchbook. I was extremely content. The salty, cool summer breeze brushed softly on my face as I sketched Alastor from memory. It felt like things couldn't get bad, though I knew in the back of my mind there was always a chance.

For now, I was happy.

I did several rough sketches of him before attempting a more detailed one. I played with blending the led then did a loose sketch with a pen overtop. It turned out better than I thought and attempted it a second time before calling it quits. I was losing the sunlight.

Finally I finished and let out a huge yawn, stretching out my limbs and cracking my spine back in place. I leaned back into the pillows comfortably.

"Is that me?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice directly in my ear. I snapped the book to my side, out of view. "When did you come in?" I asked in bewilderment, mostly from embarrassment.

"That's quite stunning artwork," he ignored my question, standing up with his arms behind his back. I closed the sketchbook and the window. "Come now, darling, it was meant as a compliment." He placed his claw gently on my shoulder. Alcine and his shadow sprouted on the wall to look at each other.

"Thank you." I gripped the edges of the sketchbook tightly.

He leaned down and gave me a sweet, gentle kiss. "You may continue, I will do my own work." He unclipped his coat and casted it on the bed. My eyes refused to leave his slim form until his gaze fell on me. I pretended to look out the dark window.

I stayed like that for awhile, the sound of his pen scratching on paper and the fire popping were the only noises I could hear. It felt peaceful again.

I grew cold by the window, though, and after drawing the curtain closed, I went to stand in front of the fire. Alastor's mind wrapped tighter around mine as I did but he didn't move. Staring at his back, I realized this was the first time he was actually keeping his back to me for a long time. He was almost always facing me or if his was back was to me it was only for a moment.

I felt the trust as much as he felt my realization of it.

The warmth of the fire was better than magic warmth. I kept my palms open to the orange glow and let it soothe the aching muscles in my back. I would need to sit soon. Standing still took some effort.

I found myself staring at Alastor's back. A moment later, I had stepped forward and touched his broad shoulder.

He flinched.

I retracted my hand.

His smile was strained as he turned sharply to me. I held my hand tight against my stomach and covered by my other one. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry."

He let out a visible sigh, shoulders and eyebrows relaxing. His eyes jumped to my tightly clasped hands. 

"I'll uh...I'll ask next time." I took a step away.

"That would be preferred." He held out his hand, as if asking me to take it. He waited, outstretching it further when I didn't move from my restrained position.

Finally, feeling his nerves dissipating in his mind, I gradually extended my arm and let him wrap his long, red claws around my small hand. He pulled me closer and placed a soft kiss on my fingers.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"It was unexpected. I was focused." He brought my fingers up to his cheek and tilted his head so he was leaning on them. "Perhaps you will continue now that I am aware."

He placed my hand on his shoulder, right in the spot between it and his neck, and turned back to his papers. I ran my hand across the back of his neck, to the other shoulder, back again, then into his hair. I felt the suppressed groan.

I scratched in the spot between his antlers and watched the pen fall from his fingers. He was still for the most part as I continued, now using both hands to scratch along the base of his ears.

When my fingers started to get tired, I dared a light touch down the back of his neck. His whole body shivered and his ears fell sideways instead of backwards like they usually did.

"You will be the death of me, my dear." He took my hand and placed another kiss on it.

As he looked up to meet my eyes, I came down to kiss him on the lips. His ears shot back up in surprise. My hand shook as I brought it up to touch his cheek, the exact same gesture he always did for me.

He grabbed the bottom of my chin and pulled away. "Is there something you are looking for, dear?" he asked sweetly.

Unbeknownst to him, I saw what he wanted from me. His nerves were just as high as mine but I felt his mind pulling me closer and closer.

"What I'm looking for is right in front of me." I moved to stand more in front of the chair, squished between it and the table with my legs against his, and put both hands on the armrests.

"Is that so, love?" He hooked a sharp claw under my chin to pull me closer. I leaned my weight on my arms as he drew me in for another kiss. His teeth dampened save for a set of canines so he could slip his tongue into my mouth. The word dominating came to mind.

His hand moved to the back of my head as the other grabbed at my waist, pulling hard. I put one knee on the side of the cushion to shift my weight off my arms. His hand on my head moved down to the other side of my waist and did the same. I swallowed my nerves, and some of his saliva, as I brought my other knee up so I was straddling him in a way.

My hands were on either side of his neck, right in the soft spot before his shoulder started, but his hands moved to the armrests. His claws punctured the wood as his tongue did all the pulling to keep us close.

I could hear his concerns, feel the effort it was taking, and see his eyebrows furrowed together. I grabbed his wrists, the surprise a jolt of energy between us, and moved them to my thighs just as he had done with my hands on his neck.

He pulled away from the kiss, breath heavy. "You mustn't feel pressured," he offered.

I rubbed my thumb across his cheek, earning a fleeting glance from his beady eyes, and answered with, "Read my thoughts, Al. I want to try again."

"Then you will show me what you desire, love. I will do nothing else."

I'm sure he meant it in a touching way, but it made me nervous to show him where I wanted him to try touching. Perhaps it was more embarrassment then anything.

He leaned off the back of the chair with his usual smile, lips a hair from my own and waiting. I pressed into the kiss as my hands moved up his neck and into his hair. This time he moaned. It made a strange twisting feeling in my gut, the vibrations reaching through my lips and into my head.

My tail wrapped several times around one of his legs as I pressed harder, shoving his head into the back of the chair. I carefully brought my claws down his neck, over the soft fabric, down his arms, and gripped his hands. I breathed into the kiss as I plucked them off my thighs and placed them on my back, under my shirt.

He splayed his hands so his entire palms were touching my skin. His claws felt cold but his palms felt insanely warm. I felt a different kind of heat suffocating my chest and daring to go lower.

I trust you not to hurt me. I sent him directly.

I couldn't imagine such a thing, my darling. He answered. Though when fleeting images of my first year with him came to the forefront, he added, Not anymore.

His palms moved methodically up and down my back, occasionally letting his claws leave a red line or two. Meanwhile I was fighting him with my equally long tongue. I had my hands behind his head as I tilted my own to the side to reach further in. All I was seeing was red and green. All I was feeling was hot warmth. All I was tasting was him.

The kissing turned aggressive once he bit my tongue enough to draw blood. He sucked on the sweet liquid before moving to my neck. His magic came a hair too late to dull the pain of the bite and as retaliation I squeezed his ear too hard. He winced and dulled the pain in appeasement, teeth still buried in my neck.

He licked up my blood as his claws dared to cause even more to spill. I put my own claws on the back of his neck, ready to puncture the vulnerable spot if he drew too much.

His arms suddenly wrapped around me and he stood. I instinctively wrapped my legs around him despite him carrying nearly my entire weight with ease. He moved to the bed and laid me on my back, attacking my neck once again. The pressure from his weight on my chest was a new feeling.

"Not all the way," I breathed.

Of course, my love, he answered. But your blood is oh so addicting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 5!

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, stalking, job shenanigans, Billy wiling to protect you in every way possible.

A/N: Babes, I am having the worst day possible. I could use some love. Please, please, send something, anything my way if you have any appreciation for me. ❤

'Billy, it's what my friends call me.'

Was that what you were? Friends?

Or was it an accident?

'Right, sorry for bothering. Just curious.'

Okay, that was a good place to end.

You put your phone down, moving to grab a glass of water, but spinning back excitedly when another alert comes in.

'Don't say sorry. Or else.'

Fucking shit, was he flirting?

No way.

'Or else?' you ask.

Your heart pounds.

'Or else, I'll demand your apology in person, preferably over dinner.'

Holy fucking shit he was.

He liked you?

No, no way.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

Dammit, he was still a client.

Shit, you shouldn't.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I don't want to-' You begin to type it, but quickly backspace.

'Can we do it as friends?' You erase that too.

Yes, you wanted to say yes, yes sir, take me into your arms and then preferrably your bed.

Damn, you didn't know what to say.

the typing bubbles pop up, and you wait patiently.

'Let's table that conversation though, at least until our work relationship comes to an end. Yes?'

You breathe a sigh of relief.

'Yes, that sounds great.' You answer.

You move toward your window, looking over, hoping to catch sight of him.

He's there, shirtless once more, black joggers wrapped around his legs, wide shoulders and large hands.

He sips at his coffee, holding his phone up.

You look down, typing out a little message to send to him. You watch the corner of his lips pull up into a smile as he reads it.

'Happy Sunday.' Is all you'd said.

.

"Anvil accepted the proposal."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Good work." Andrew informs.

"Thanks, I thought I was on thin ice for a second there." You say, taking a sip of water in your relief.

Andrew nods in understanding.

"So we'll pass the project on to someone else so you can focus on other things." He says casually.

Wait, what?

He was giving the project to someone else?

"Wouldn't it be easier if I held on to it? I mean, I did all the grunt work for the assessment, I know the building better than anyone else here."

Andrew shrugs.

"It's just a building. Won't be that hard for someone else to pick up. We really need you focusing your skills elsewhere."

No room for argument.

Your shoulders drop, you nod in compliance.

You'd worked so hard, and that was it, someone else would get the credit for your work.

You were going to quit.

Maybe this was for the better, William wasn't a client to you now, maybe you could finally take him up on dinner.

You shake your head angrily, maybe he was the one who requested you be taken off. Maybe he'd only entertained the thought of you because you were a woman.

What if his only goal had been to seduce you?

You sigh, shoulders dropping as you approach your desk, noticing a couple of work documents come in.

You open them absentmindedly, sorting them into the right area on your desk, still deep in thought about what you should do.

Realistically, you should quit, if they didn't respect you now, they probably never would.

Very infuriating, maybe your place of work could use a little brushing up on ethics too.

You pull the last document from the last envelope and you frown.

This.... was a photo of you.

.

Billy was pissed.

He'd been invited in to sign contracts with your company, and discuss lead times and security protocols, and he'd just discovered that you'd been pulled from the project.

For once, he and the predator were in agreement.

He was going to raise hell.

"Unfortunately gentlemen, we have a problem."

He heard Andrew's heart pick up speed.

"What is it?"

Billy leans back in his seat.

"I'd prefer your old specialist, I've had time to watch and assess her work. She's able to answer almost any question I ask, and where she is unable, I don't have to wait long for an answer."

Andrew swallows.

"All my specialists are very much equipped to handle your questions." He protests.

Billy leans back, nods his head.

"I'm sorry, then I'm not interested in accepting your proposal," He leans forward, rises to a stand, "Pleasure doing business with you." He says, extending a hand to shake.

Andrew is sweating now, the stench of his anxiety permeates the air.

"We can come to some other arrangement, keep her on the project, so that she has time to focus on everything she needs to."

Billy hated that idea. It meant you would have to ask someone else's approval for your ideas, that someone else would be able to take credit for your hard work.

In every aspect, Billy found himself protective of you, and he wanted your complete involvement, or none at all.

"Then we don't really understand each other very much now do we?" He says, dropping his hand and turning away.

"Be reasonable, Mister Russo-"

"-I'm not being reasonable? I want the specialist that assessed the weak points in my company and drafted a plan to take lead on carrying out that plan. How is that unreasonable?"

Andrew hesitates, he swallows, the predator pulls hungrily at Billy, demanding blood, enticed by the scent of fear.

"She- she resigned a few days ago. Doesn't work here anymore."

The news shocks him, a little bit of worry snakes down his spine though he keeps himself calm.

He checks his watch absentmindedly.

"We could have saved a lot of time if you'd just told me that from the start." He nods his head at both men.

"Have fun finding someone half as good as her. Goodbye."

He turns finally, walks out of the office, smiles in satisfaction as he hears Andrew swear angrily.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, a quick text in your direction.

'We need to talk.'

.

Except you didn't want to talk to him. You'd been hiding in your house for the last few days, ever since you'd quit your job. The photo sitting on your kitchen counter.

It was you, leaving Amy's apartment a couple of weeks ago. It had worried you, that when you'd felt like you were being watched.... you were actually being watched.

You didn't say anything, wondering if it was just a one time thing. One single photo was barely enough to go to the police with, you'd be overlooked for more important things no doubt, and worse yet, what if things got worse because you reported it?

It just wasn't a good enough risk to take, so instead, you'd rushed on quitting your job, and decided to get back into the job market.

You're studying the photo when his text comes in, you wanted to burn it, pretend it didn't happen, and move on with your life. It was just one photo after all.

You reach for your phone, reading his message, the ominous nature of it sinking into you.

You try to be professional in your response.

'Sorry, Mister Russo, but I'm not available today.' Is your response.

'I just heard you quit your job.'

'Yes?'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

You blink, you don't know how to respond to that. You were barely acquaintances, you didn't owe him anything.

'Why would I have told you?' You ask.

You can almost sense his frustration.

'Let's meet. There's a café a block away.' He follows up with a location.

'6 p.m? Yes?'

When you don't respond, his next message is just your name, you find yourself clenching involuntarily, you can almost hear his voice in your head, the casual way he demands compliance.

'Okay.' Is all you say.

You still feel like you're being watched. From the moment you step out into the street, your heart is pounding, your lungs squeeze in your chest.

Was there someone watching you right now?

Would there be another photo?

You look around, and you check your peripherals, and though nothing is amiss, you still feel watched.

It's terrifying, you stop halfway to the café, you almost turn around and run back home.

Despite being afraid of outside, you knew that you were safe inside. You'd done a full assessment of Anvil's security, after all, you knew the weak points, and though there weren't many, you're sure Billy- William would have compensated for most of them by now.

But out here, there were too many places for an assailant to be hiding. It was scary, and you were almost petrified by the thoughts. There was a stalker, or even a new serial killer, just around the corner.

You really needed to book another session with your therapist.

You sit in the back corner of the little café, a very rustic interior decor, filled with stained wood countertops and paintings made out of coffee on the faded red walls.

The sound of the coffee grinder goes off every now and then, the steamed milk foamer next, and you find yourself relaxed by the repetitive sounds. No one looks at you, spares you a glance, and there's even a comfort in that.

But he takes the air out of the room when he walks in.

Your stomach, as knotted as it is, knots even more at the sight of him, heart fluttering, begging for something you've never had before.

Dressed down, grey shirt, black jeans, you want to sit on his firm thighs if only for a moment. He's not wearing a coat, or even a jacket, despite the chill in the evening air. He probably runs hot, and you think about what that would feel like, in bed, beside you, before you come to your senses.

"Would you like something?" He asks, when he comes up to the little booth you're at, palms braced against the table, eyes glancing at the menu in explanation.

"It's on me." He says easily.

The corner of your lip rises.

"Why? Because I left my job you think I can't afford a vanilla latte?"

Something rises in him, amusement perhaps, his eyes move slowly down your body, and then back up to your eyes.

"You think you're funny, but don't worry, I'll get you your vanilla latte."

He straightens, eyes lingering on your burning face. He turns, and walks to the counter.

You gulp.

Jesus Christ.

He comes back, with a cup for you, and one for himself, and you thank him easily.

"Tell me what happened." He starts, and you look up at him, his face composed, no room for argument.

You swallow.

"They pulled me from the project."

He nods.

"And... it made me feel undervalued... overlooked."

He takes a deep breath, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

"I turned the contract down."

You blink in surprise.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted your expertise, not some idiot who would lie to me and think they're getting away with it."

You lean back, sighing.

"They're going to think we're involved."

He shakes his head.

"Because I value your opinion?"

"Do you? Or is this-" You cut yourself off, glancing away.

"Say it."

"Is this... only because you want to be involved with me?"

A long moment of silence, your heart drops. He was going to make fun of you for assuming something like that no doubt.

"It's not that. It's the way you think. It's the way I can see you thinking ten steps ahead. Most people, are too focused on the brushstrokes, when you're looking at the whole painting."

Tears spring to your eyes. You look up, blinking fast to push them away. Your throat tightens.

To be seen like this, shook you to your very core.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You say softly, voice barely above a whisper.

No one, had ever seen you like this before.

It made you want him. You'd been thinking this entire time that he couldn't give two shits about you, when he'd been appreciating your work ethic from a distance.

Did he like you? Probably not, but that was okay, because this was a good alternative.

"I want to hire you as a consultant." He follows up, smiling at you when your eyes widen.

"Mister Russo-"

"-Billy, please."

"Mister Russo," You emphasize with a shake of your head, "this is too much."

"How is it too much?" He asks, leaning back, "You're experienced with the innerworkings of my company, you know the layout, you know the problems. Name a price, and be there on Monday."

You clap a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh of disbelief bubbling through.

"You're insane." You say, eyebrows raised, daring to speak to him in such an informal manner.

He grins, beautiful and alluring, leaning in, eyes filled with mirth.

"I know I am. It's why I'm good at what I do. Think about it."

You nod, deep in thought.

You had a couple months of rent saved up as is, you would be able to survive for a little while if you turned him down.

On the other hand, Anvil was one of the best security companies in New York. There was no safer place. Any potential stalkers would find difficulty in getting random letters to you.

Plus, he valued you, he saw your worth, had made it extremely clear.

Only a fool would turn down what he could offer- or someone extremely smitten.

"To be very clear," You say, avoiding his eyes, "You're not offering this because you're interested in sleeping with me, are you? Because if you are, then I don't want it."

.

"I'm not interested like that." He lies, feels the predator roar in anger, curling one hand into a fist in his lap to fight it.

Her safety matters most, he tells himself, job safety included.

He would protect her.

Even if it meant he couldn't touch her again.

.

You can't help looking around.

It's dark now, and you're so on edge, looking behind you, studying each alleyway you pass, the paranoia pulling at the seams of your sanity, demanding you panic.

"We're not being followed." William says calmly from beside you.

You swallow, looking over at him.

"How do you know?"

He smiles softly, gazing forward.

"Before Anvil, I served ten years in the Marines. Three tours. I know when I'm being watched."

So you were just paranoid then.

You squeeze your fists tightly, releasing the tension in your body before confessing.

"A couple of months ago, someone tried to kill me." You say to him, eyes glued to the ground.

"I'd been camping in the woods with my friends, we did it every year, this time-" The words die, you can't find the strength to speak.

"I know. Anvil runs background checks. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

You breathe a sigh of relief, you'd figured the company had looked into you. Ensuring you weren't a security threat was very important. If it wasn't being done, you would have suggested it yourself.

"Yeah, thanks. After, it's just hard to relax when I'm outside. It's hard to do anything."

He nods, deep in thought.

"It's a good thing you work for a security company then, no safer place to be."

Later, into the night, when you're fast asleep, the predator visits you in your dreams.

"I'll keep you safe," He whispers into your ear, lays a soft kiss on your cheek.

You hum in bliss, arms curling tighter around the pillow you're holding, yearning for something you could only dream of.

.

.

.

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

Hot in Herre

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Your insanely gorgeous boyfriend joins you in bed on a hot summer’s night, making you the envy of every woman in the city. Now if only your mind could muster up some decent dirty talk instead of playing that one song on repeat...

Story tags: Established Relationship, Lighthearted (aka silly) foreplay, Undeniable proof that the author is a cringey millennial

Author's notes: Guess who's back? Back again. ... Sorry. Wrong song. Anyways, here's a short and silly fic that came to me in the midst of our early-autumn heatwave. I wish I could say that more fics were on the way, but life is busy, so it would probably be a lie if I did.

------------------------------------------------------------

‘I’m going to bed,’ you said, draping your arms over Billy’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head. He was sitting at his desk in his home office, going over some Anvil reports, and would probably still be there by the time you fell asleep.

You didn’t like falling asleep without him, but such was life when you were the girlfriend of one of New York’s up and coming CEOs.

‘Night, babe,’ he said, lifting his hand to give your own a squeeze. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen, but you didn’t take it personally. He was still getting used to having someone else living in his apartment with him. Before you, Billy Russo had been a contented forever-bachelor with no intentions of ever settling down; time to adjust was to be expected.

You still didn’t know why it was you he wanted to keep – you were hardly the sort of bombshell seductress he was usually photographed with – but you were determined not to mess up and change his mind. So, you kissed his head again, and then reluctantly untangled yourself from him and left for the bedroom.

It didn’t take you long to get ready for bed. Falling asleep, however, was a totally different story. Summer was just ending, but the heat was clinging on for as long as it could, and even the solitary sheet you were using to cover yourself was too hot. You knew you could turn on the air conditioner, but without Billy, you would be too cold with it on. No doubt he would turn it on himself when he came to bed, but until then, another layer had to go.

You weren’t willing to sacrifice the sheet – you needed something covering you to fall asleep – and your shirt was little more than a tank top, so that left you pyjama bottoms the only option. You weren’t usually one to sleep in your underwear, feeling awkward even when alone, but these were extenuating circumstances.

With a bit of manoeuvring, you wriggled out of your pants and dropped them over the side of the bed. It was marginally better, but not enough to help you sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there for, staring at the wall, but eventually you heard the blessed beep of the air conditioner turning on and the soft shuffle of Billy getting ready for bed. How he never walked into anything in the dark, you would never know.

Maybe it was all that marine training.

It only took a few minutes for the room to cool down, and just as you were starting to chill, the sheet lifted and Billy’s warm body pressed against you from behind.

Much better.

Billy’s hand casually settled on your thigh, and you could tell the exact moment he realised you were in one less layer than usual. His fingers stilled for a second before splaying across your skin, as if trying to reach as much of it as he could.

You made an involuntary hum of pleasure. You loved his touch, no matter how tame.

You heard a faint chuckle from behind you, and the hand on your thigh suddenly got a lot more confident, caressing and squeezing in a way that left no doubt to its owner’s intentions. ‘This is a nice surprise,’ he said, the velvet purr of his voice banishing all thoughts of sleep from your brain.

Who could even think about sleep when they had an amorous Billy Russo behind them?

‘Were you waiting for me?’ he continued in the same silky tone. His breath ghosted over the shell your ear, and the shiver you gave had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

‘It was too hot,’ you said simply, but you leaned your neck to the side and pressed your hips into his hardening groin, letting him know you were enjoying his attentions. ‘An item of clothing had to go.’

Billy attacked your neck with a flurry of kisses as his hand skirted up from your thigh to your waist, sliding under your tank top. ‘In that case,’ he said, his hand inching higher, dragging the fabric with it. ‘Maybe you should take this off as well. I have a feeling things are about to get very hot in here.’

You wished you could be as smooth as he was. You wished you could come up with a sexy reply said in a sultry bedroom voice that would have him flipping you over and ravishing you…

Instead, you giggled.

His hand froze, and you quickly turned in his arms before he could pull away. You buried your face into his bare chest.

He didn’t have a problem sleeping without layers.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said between the last few hitches of laughter. ‘You’re being very sexy and I’m very much here for it, but all I can think of is that damn song.’

You risked a glance upwards and saw that Billy was looking at you with an amused but quizzical eyebrow raised. ‘Song?’ he asked.

You wiggled your shoulders in a vague approximation of dancing. ‘It’s getting hot in here’—Billy grinned, instantly catching on—‘so take off all your clothes.’

Suddenly, Billy’s lips were on yours, cutting off your abysmal singing. By the time you both parted, you were well and truly breathless.

‘So, I didn’t ruin the mood, then?’ you asked.

Billy chuckled and shook his head. ‘Never,’ he said, eyes twinkling with an emotion you liked to think was love. It certainly looked like love.

But still, that nagging bit of insecurity remained. ‘You don’t mind that I’m terrible at dirty talk?’

You were on your back before you’d even finished your sentence, Billy hovering over you. He gave you another one of those all-consuming kisses. ‘I love that you’re terrible at dirty talk,’ he said once he had pulled away again. ‘I love that we can laugh and have fun in bed. I’ve never had that.’

You reached up and stroked your fingers down his cheek. Was that all it would take to keep this man whom you had quickly fallen in love with? Just be your idiotic self? It was hard to believe – it seemed too easy – but looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. He wanted to keep you simply because you were you.

You grinned from ear to ear as your heart soared.

‘In that case,’ you said in a poor imitation of his earlier seductive tone. You reached down to grab the hem of your tank top, and as you slowly pulled it upwards, you swayed your hips to a silent beat.

Billy’s laugh told you that he was hearing it loud and clear.

‘I am getting so hot, I wanna take my clothes off.’

[rd0265667]

Haerin x Reader: Take a Break

A/N: This is alot shorter than my normal works. Didn't really have time to develop a plot or anything, but I just needed to write this out to make myself feel a little better. Was a little hesitant on releasing this, but I thought, if anyone of my beloved readers is going through a stressful situation right now, like I am, every little bit helps. I hope this fic helps.

Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon@justme-idle

"Haerin-unnie, when are you going to get back? I've never seen it so bad." Haerin heard Hyein's slightly worried voice through her phone, sighing as she shook her head. "I'll be there in a little bit." Haerin replied, hastening her stride as she went to the dorm.

Knocking on the door of the dorm, Haerin taps her foot slightly impatiently, before seeing Hyein's head peeking out of the door. "Y/N, your wife's here!" Hyein shouted as she let Haerin in, Haerin rolling her eyes but smiling at what Hyein had said. Haerin was slightly taken aback by the sight she was faced with. Your hair was a mess, notes sprawled all across the table, eye bags heavier than anvils, all the while your eyes seemed to not need to blink. "Babe, how long have you been studying for?" Haerin asked, concerned by the sight she was presented with. "Oh, hey Babe!" You replied, seemingly going through a mental pause, not replying to Haerin's question. "Babe, did you hear me?" Haerin walking over to you, putting her hand on your shoulder "Oh yeah sure, we can go out soon!" You answered, clearly aloof as you looked through your notes again.

"I didn't know it was this bad..." Haerin said as she sat next to Hyein on her bed. "Yeh, Y/N's been really stressed out by the national exams coming up soon. Never seen them like this before. It's kinda creepy." Hyein commented, a look of slight apprehension on her face as she recalled walking in on Y/N singing the element song. While Sleeping.  "It really hasn't been this bad before...Why didn't they tell me?"  "They don't want to be a burden to you...you know the way they are about these situations..." Hyein said with a sigh. "I have an idea." Haerin said, Hyein looking at her with curiosity

No matter how much you wanted to study with no breaks, nature had its callings, and eventually, you had to leave your work station to answer nature's calling. When you got back however, to your dismay, you saw your computer turned off, and your notes gone. "Oh, hey Babe, when did you get here!" You exclaimed in surprise, before trying to look for your notes Haerin's jaw dropped, this was...bad. "I gave your notes to Hyein, who's under strict orders to not come back for the next 5 hours." Haerin said, causing your head to jerk towards her. "Why?" You asked, voice raising slightly, head tilting to the side "You need a break Y/N, just for a few hours." Haerin pleaded, but you turned away, going to try to turn your computer on "I've put your computer under several layers of locks. I know you'll be able to crack it, but it's going to take you give or take 5 hours. So here are your options. 1. You spend the next 5 hours to try and crack my encryption, or 2. You use the 5 hours to rest and relax with your loving girlfriend, after which, the password to the security will be provided for you." Haerin explained, before patting the empty space beside her. Weighing your options, you eventually gave in, walking over to her, then resting your head on her shoulder. "I brought you your favourites, and I thought we could watch a movie while you rest." Haerin whispered, prompting a nod from you as you pulled the containers from the bag Haerin had brought over, Haerin always knew what you needed. So that was how the next two hours went, your mental stress slowly being alleviated by the presence of your girlfriend as she pampered and spoon-fed you. As the credits rolled, you felt Haerin's arm tighten around you. "Do you wanna tell me about what's gotten into you?" Haerin asked as she gently stroked your hair "It's just usual exam stuff Babe." You tried to lie to Haerin, albeit rather unconvincingly, as Haerin shot you a look "Let's try again, and this time, mean it." With a sigh, you lowered your head. "My grades have been on the decline for so long now, you know this. At first it was still acceptable, but now it's getting bad. If I don't put 200% into this, how can I go and look my parents in the eye. Look you in the eye." Your voice lowered as your shame began to overcome you. Wordlessly, Haerin turned you towards her, giving you a reassuring look as she took your hand in hers, setting your hand on your chest. Maybe this was some special technique Haerin knew, or maybe Haerin was just magic, but it worked, as you slowly felt yourself calm down. Haerin then pulled you into a tight hug, whispering words that you really needed to hear. "It's going to be okay. You can do this" You felt some moistness in your eyes, but you quickly wiped it away, then pulling her into you, resting your head on her chest. "Thank you Rin." You whispered, Haerin nodding as she held you tight, whispering sweet nothings to you

Sometimes, it's alright to take a break. To take a moment from the hectic world and spend time with the ones you love. 

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Enver Gortash Musings 11

Warnings: Mentions of virginity, mentions of wedding night sex, sexist ideas about virginity (not from Enver though he couldn't care less)

Minors do not read!!!

The second outing Enver took you to was at his own estate. Smaller than your parent's, but big enough to suit a minor Lord. Then again, if rumors were to be believed Enver would be much more than a lord soon. Typically, having an outing at the man's estate was improper, but the rules were changed due to it being arranged. Enver had already paid a bride price for your hand. The property outside of Baldur's Gate that was your dowry was already being sighed over to him soon. The farm, the mill, and the country estate your family used for vacations during the summer. All of them would soon belong to Enver, to one day pass down to your children. Ugh. You could barely wrap your head around it.

Enver gave you a tour around his estate as your parents stayed in the parlour. "I'm surprised you got the to agree to let us be so... Alone." You admit.

Enver chuckled, repositioning his cane a bit as you walked through the back door of his home out into his outdoor entertaining space. Or, at least it was intended to be an entertaining space. Stone flooring that was once solid and polished, intended to be a dining area beneath the woven overhang, had been ripped into with pickaxes so a forge could be installed. Three different anvils littered the area around it, along with racks upon racks of blacksmithing equipment.

"Noble parents safeguard their daughters chastity like hawks so that they can marry her off. Noblemen are quite odd about insisting their wife be a virgin. I never saw the appeal." Enver dismissed. "I've already agreed to marry you, the paperwork is complete, and I don't care if you've ever laid with another man or woman. It doesn't matter to me."

You felt your face grow hot, both due to his blunt words and the heat from the forge. "Regardless of your preference, I have my maidenhead, and I plan on having it at my wedding."

Enver chuckles, leading you to the forge and putting on a pair of thick leather gloves. "Whatever you prefer."

He grabs a pair of metal tongs, thrusting them into the fires of the forge and pulling out a cup of molten metal. "Grab that mold, and put it on top of the flat part of the largest anvil."

You panic, having never done any blacksmithing work in your life. You don't know what the mold is, but you grab what he was pointing to and put it on the biggest anvil you see.

You step back, watching him pour the molten metal into the opening of the mold, his hands steady as the metal comes out in a bright red and white stream. Soon the mold is filled, and he drops the stone cup into a bucket of sand, tossing the tongs back onto the rack. He grabs the mold, tearing it in half and brushing the sand inside of it away to reveal a smoking ingot of gold.

"What are you making?" You ask, curious. You knew Enver was an artificer, but hadn't seen any of his creations yet.

"Your wedding ring." He answers, taking the ingot and setting it on the anvil. He grabs a hammer, taking it and tapping the ingot a few times. The metal is still soft with heat, easy to vend to his will.

Of all the things you had expected, that wasn't one. "You- oh. I-I didn't know you made jewelry."

"I make plenty of things." He said dismissively, cutting into the ingot to get a piece of appropriate size. "Every artificer in the world has made rings before, so as to enchant them."

You smiled sheepishly, watching as he put the piece of gold onto a cone like tool and began shaping it into a ring. "I thought they just bought rings and carved runes on them."

Enver laughs, "If they want a broken ring, sure. You can never be sure of quality unless you make it yourself."

"You smelt all the metal for your creations?" He's got a complete ring now. It's rough, needing to be shaped and smooth, but it's a ring. He takes it away from the anvil, setting it on the table and grabbing a few smaller tools.

"No, not all the time. I have employees who do the bulk of such things. But I've always got something I'm working on around my personal forge. I make all my own prototypes, then pass the blueprints and instructions along to them."

You watch over the next hour as Enver turns the chunk of gold into a beautiful golden ring. He asks basic questions, the type of ring you'd prefer, the size of your finger, embellishments you enjoy. And you talk about many other things as well. His other hobbies, yours too.

"Do you want children?" You ask when you feel brave enough.

"Yes." He says, "At least two."

"An heir and a spare?" You guessed, a sullen tone to your voice. You had hoped he would care about the concept of children just for the sake of children. Apparently not.

"Partly." He admits, no shame in his voice. "Also because I think a child needs friends. A sibling would help."

You chuckled, "You were an only child, weren't you?"

Enver looks up at you, a lopsided grin on his face. "Is it that obvious?"

"I have a lot of siblings." You said.

"I'm aware, your mother went through my list of options." He joked.

You bristled, "Your list?"

He smiles at you in a way you think is meant to calm you. It doesn't. "I knew I wanted to marry one of your mother's brood. Her terms were too good to pass up. A fellow Banite, a strong family name, deep coffers, everything I could have hoped for. She showed me each of her children's portraits, and said I was of course allowed to choose whoever I preferred, but she was quite insistent that you were the best pick."

You hesitated, "And... How soon did you make your choice?"

"About five minutes later." He says, reaching a hand over to take your chin in his hand, lifting your gaze up to meet his. "She was quite convincing."

He lingers on your face for a few moments, letting you blush under his gaze before releasing your chin. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small leather bag, and opening it to dump its contents on the table. "Pick your favorite."

It's gemstones, over a dozen of them, and scattered over the table. Different colors of each precious stone you can name. Your eyes sweep over all of them, but you ultimately land on one of the largest stones, a deep green emerald.

You pluck it up with your fingers, offering it to Enver shyly. "... This one reminds me of you."

Enver's mouth twitches slightly, a grin slipping onto his lips. "Green, hm?"

You shrug. "It just does."

He takes the emerald, adjusts the setting on the ring, and drops it into its place. A pair of pliers tightens the setting, securing the beautiful stone into the ring forever.

He polishes it with a few brushes, cleans it with a bit of cheesecloth, and then turns to you. "It will suit you, I think."

"I can't try it on?" You tease.

He smirks, "For someone so traditional about her virginity, I'd think you'd want to wait until the ceremony to put on your ring."

You huff, "Fine. I can be patient."

His hands are suddenly on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he leans down and whispers into your ear. "Mind your tone, sweet thing."

You can't help but shudder at his voice. "I- sorry!"

He chuckles, his grip on your waist squeezing slightly. "I'm only teasing. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

Enver sighed, "There are... Traditions with Banite marriage."

You go serious quickly. "... That's what this is going to be, isn't it? It's not going to be normal."

Enver shakes his head. "I had hoped your mother would warn you."

"She doesn't talk about that with me." You admitted. "She never even told me what being a Banite is like."

Enver sighs. "Lovely. It's getting late. We can discuss it another time."

You frown, "Why not now?"

"It will be a long conversation." He explains, his voice taking that gentle and persuasive tone again. Was this how he sweet talked politicians? It was no wonder all the women at court were backing him. "It's best saved for a day with many more hours left in it. Come back this weekend, I'll have afternoon tea served, and we'll speak on it more."

You smiled softly up at him. "I prefer Earl Grey."

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Possessed by Grief - an essay on MyHouse.pk3

Here's that essay on MyHouse.wad I've kept threatening to drop like a big anvil, which I definitely did not forget about for like a month :P Seems like an opportune moment to publish it, what with all the recent influx of interest in the game - and so I present some more of my thoughts on this masterpiece. Enjoy :)

MyHouse.pk3 is a game about grief.

It is a game about nostalgia and regret, obsession and devotion, confusion and despair. A game that asks if it's ever possible to escape grief's clutches, or if each apparent success only makes the net close tighter around us. A game that compels us to seek answers, and provides only further questions.

This is also a game about love, and how grief scrunches it up impossibly small and stretches it out impossibly thin, as we are forced to reckon with what this person really means to us, what impact they've had on us, and how we can possibly continue to exist in this world without them.

It is by all accounts a common thing for prospective modders to recreate their own houses, or those of their relatives, as part labour of love, part test run for future projects, part rite of passage. I imagine that playing through one is akin to a virtual property tour, with added demon killing and grunting. And perhaps this was all MyHouse.pk3 was ever meant to be - just another map of just another house, albeit uploaded as a tribute to its original owner who passed on.

What we get instead… is nothing short of an electronic manifestation of grief itself. The house changes as we play, as demons thought vanquished return stronger than ever. New hallways jut out at impossible angles while old doorways vanish into thin air. We wander through wildly different versions of the house's floorplan - a brutalist office block that changes in size, a perpetually-flooded bathhouse suspended in an eeriely tranquil skybox, an abandoned daycare falling into disrepair, an empty airport devoid of life, adjoined to a bathroom with a bloody secret. Mirrors become portals to alternate versions of the same house, where everything is the same except reversed. You jump out of a plane and seemingly wake up back at the house, but time has passed and everyone has moved on and the one thing you thought a concrete certainty ("Safe as houses", so the saying goes) is literally sold off behind your back and you turn around and there's nothing there anymore, it's just gone.

No-one asked you. You did not consent to any of this, and yet it has happened all the same.

And life ticks on and you try to move on but you can't. Even the Underhalls, Doom II's second level, provides only temporary respite, as you are immediately spat back out right where you began, and the whole process starts over.

THIS is what grief does to someone. It freezes you in time, folds your mind into endlessly recursive origami shapes that loop on themselves again and again, removes an old keystone from the bridge of your psyche before stepping back to watch the structure slowly crumble to ruins. You flail helplessly as you are caught between trying to invoke what you've lost in meaningful objects and places, and tossing everything aside and trying to escape into some new, different reality. The past contains bittersweet memories of happier times you can never return to, while the future promises nothing but a bleak pseudo-existence utterly devoid of meaning. You cannot go back. You cannot move forward.

And all the while, you torment yourself with the same questions, over and over and over: Why did this happen? What do I do now they're gone? Could I have changed something? Could things have been different, if I had just been kinder/braver/better/gentler/more attentive?

Grief haunts MyHouse. It is the unseen hand that shapes the world and all the artefacts scattered throughout it. It is the force that compels Steve to continue adding to it, convinces him that only he can do what is needed, and he becomes as dependent upon the map to frame his loss as it is dependent on him to shape it. There are no ghosts or demons, no supernatural forces at play here - just one person trapped in his despair and loneliness, pouring everything he has into the one last thing that connects him to his dead friend. And in the finished map, we see exactly what Tom was to Steve, just how precious and irreplacable of a friend they were to him, just how fathomless his depth of feeling for them. So deep that Tom may very well be "the only person I [Steve] ever loved."

Grief and love are intertwined, they cannot be teased apart. The deeper and more profound the love for someone, the greater the agony experienced when they are taken from you. For Steve to have constructed such an elaborate, multifaceted, labyrinthian space, and to have done so deliberately as a trubute, it becomes increasingly obvious that he was motivated by a love and a grief so abyssal and all-consuming that there was no-one and nothing he valued more in life - to the point where it must have seemed that he, too, had died alongside his friend.

This house and all of its impossible multitudes is a digital mausoleum, built not so much for a person as for a relationship, dedicated to stupid in-jokes and childhood traumas and painful secrets, plagued by a burning love that cannot be spoken yet has to be expressed lest it destroys the one who harbours it. It stands as proof that Tom existed, that the bond they shared was real. And through all the confusion, the hopelessness and the heartbreak, a way forward begins to emerge.

Grief never truly goes away, is never truly "beaten" as a video game final battle may be. But it does become easier to navigate, its twists and turns becoming more familiar with each pass, with each story shared between others who are struggling alongside us. Contentment can be reattained. Life does, indeed, go on. Love is not negated by death, but endures forever in how we choose to honour those who are no longer with us.

Thanks for reading.

[iamthecomet]

comet, today im thinking about how in general ghost fanon, there's a place for the water ghouls (the lake), and the garden/greenhouse for earth ghouls, and the infirmary for quintessence ghouls

perhaps an argument could be made that the air ghouls love the roof

but there doesn't seem to be a place for fire ghouls

i think dewdrop deserves a forge

he would probably have a coal forge rather than a gas forge and i think he wouldn't need tongs to hold onto the steel bc he can handle extreme heat

but i think it could be extremely zen for him to have a place to just go and let some steam off and hit hot metal while he thinks

he likes the solitude, the rhythm he can get into, hearing the anvil sing when he hits the metal just right, being able to tell intrinsically when the forge needs to be fed, when the metal is the perfect temperature

he loves how malleable the steel is, how just a few taps of the hammer in the correct spots can shape it so drastically

i think perhaps he has made something for each of the ghouls

it took him a long time to warm up to phantom, but after tour, dew disappeared out to the forge for a couple days and returned with a little knife with a bat wing hilt to present to him

idk maybe this is projection bc i too love hitting hot metal but i really think dewdrop needs a forge

also bonus: the other ghouls love when he comes back from the forge all sweaty and smelling like hot metal, coal dust flecking his skin

9 times out of 10, someone is jumping his bones before he makes it to a shower to clean off

-🐌

i keep forgetting to sign these oops

WAIT WAIT WAIT Oh no. The way my jaw dropped as I read this. BLACKSMITH DEW? Why have I never thought of blacksmith Dew? Your BRAIN IS HUGE. He absolutely has made something for everyone. In some cases, several somethings. I think it's a great place for his brain to turn off. For him to let some frustration out. I also think he likes how surprised people are when he tells them about it the first time. That little ghoul? A blacksmith? Aren't all blacksmiths big and giant and strong? Dew loves to thwart expectations. He also really loves making pretty things for people he loves. Now you've got me thinking about what kinds of things he's made for his pack mates (throwing knives for Aurora, much to everyone else's dismay).

[necronatural]

how come you're a "Dante was never real and is a construct made by Angela" truther? idk nothing about that theory or why it's supported by dante's (heh) meltdown

It's not just the meltdown, it's the specificity of their rescue of aeng-du and the kind of lore we're getting.

dante is instructed to extract someone for information.

dante comes across aeng-du and identifies her as the person they need based on "gut feeling". they do reason that the basis is of their feeling is because of how the company tends to set them up, so the way my thoughts switch hard on this was a conspiracy theorist brain pretzel. My thinking is that they identified her because she was a book in the library, and it's why Dante specifically should be the one to pick her up.

aeng-du explains 2 things: the library and the location of kim. because limbus company already had information on kim, they wanted her extracted to get a firsthand account of the library.

iori was the one who suggested the distortion-centric fixer company, yet she is presumably the one who sent those people to kill dante, the presumed manager of a division of that very company. what gives? (my previous theory was that they stole a branch from her. <- LOL)

until this point it was kind of self-evident that the branch is giving dante freaky spacetime powers due to direct access to the Light. but we witness dante having a full-on meltdown. One thing that stuck out to me is the mundanity of it. The cast has either an intimate or a superficial understanding of everything Dante is saying. So why is it important? It isn't a crazy word slurry.

It sounds like they're reciting an eroded text.

And finally, the end of the story update, Vergilius mentions offhand that he himself is waiting for the lore drop; he is depending purely on Faust, who seems singularly responsible for the LCB, and what info she's deigning to give.

Overall, the update was about the mechanics of Limbus Company, from Acquisitions to After to Distortions, and what they prioritize; Distortions and information on the Library, which is the cause of distortions.

Conclusion?

Dante is a construct made by Angela. Constructs cannot leave the Library, but they are being artificially sustained by the Light present within the branch. They're a construct of a separate person, and the facsimile deteriorated due to the improper use of ■■■. The rewinding death function is also the core gameplay loop of Ruina; Dante is using that same process on their own crew. They resemble the Outskirts clock monsters intentionally; Faust - who is dropping anvil sized hints about being an ex-lobcorp employee - is a Librarian, and witnessed these monsters personally. Iori doesn't want Dante doing anything too crazy because they aren't real; there are not a wide array of universes where they exist. She would know them exclusively in terms of the purpose they were built for. This significantly thins the avenues of attack, and Vergilius would put a lot of faith in that, even if he's never been told why the fuck Dante is a free radical and is kind of annoyed and confused this is who he's working with.

I don't think this is a theory that explains everything, or even most things; who was Dante made out of (carmen without a doubt funniest possible option), what is ■■■ (may be library/도서관), what is the "aspect" Dante is trying to carve, how this helps the library, all of that is very ????. But isn't the tension delicious when you think about it that way.

[hibischush]

the request board matchmaker

description; When the farmer first arrived in Mistria, she was pleasantly surprised with the amount of warmth the townsfolk showered her in. Even Lady Adeline herself showed the newcomer such geniality, which shocked an adventurer coming from the capital. Most nobility would hardly blink an eye towards one of the masses, let alone treat her like she was a long-lost childhood friend that recently returned home. It was a nice change of pace. That was until she met the local blacksmith.

notes; the moment i played the demo for fields of mistria and met such a grumpy and toned tsudere i knew immediately that society would go wild for the guy. i just wanted to reimagine what the first meeting would be like between a female player and him (you could totally read this with any pronoun and it would still work fyi!)

word count; 1,048

After Lady Adeline gave her the quest of meeting everyone in town, the new farmer was determined to fulfill it. All morning she had been received affably, which she greatly appreciated. The capital was all too often unwelcoming towards anyone and anything. As she wound up at the blacksmiths, she expected much of the same.

Walking into the establishment, she was greeted with the sounds of heavy clanging. She shifted her glance over to two men hovering over an anvil-- shaping some sort of weapon. One of the men, who was much taller than the other, looked up immediately to see who came in and offered the farmer a wide, cheery smile. The other, seemingly annoyed with the disturbance in his work, only followed his gaze as he slowly dropped the hammer to his side.

“Hey! You must be the new farmer everyone’s been talking about. I’m Olric, and I work here with my brother,” the friendlier of the men explained, shaking her hand eagerly. His brother, seemingly very interested in the wall to the left of them, said nothing. The newcomer took her time in observing him. The smaller of the two was in no way less toned than the other, and his arms were wicked in sweat from working near the forge. His fiery red hair was partially pulled back from his face with a navy bandana, but his bangs were so long that they still easily covered most of his forehead, giving an almost “edgy teenager” kind of hair-do. His facial expression matched the previous description too, frowning bitterly at the wall with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure,” the young farmer replied with a gentle smile of her own, “and who might you be?” she asked the red-headed brother. 

At first, he didn’t respond, and was unwilling to make eye contact with her. When eventually got his eyeballs to function again he locked his black gaze into her own. The young man had the audacity to slowly observe her from head to toe, almost as if he was sizing himself up to her. He defensively crossed his arms and pinned her down with a steely stare.

“The name’s March. What do you want?”

Immediately, the farmer faltered a bit. It seems like she was already getting used to being treated cordially here in the countryside. However, Olric didn’t flinch at this interaction, so she assumed that was just what he was like regardless of who he was talking to. Regardless, she tried not to let his cold attitude get her down, instead offering a hand with a smile, “I’m the new farmer in town. Thought I might introduce myself to everyone.”

He slowly and hesitantly shook her hand, and quickly crossed his arms again as if her touch burned him. At least he had some sort of manners, no matter how reluctant.

“I don’t see what that has to do with me, farmer,” He drawled out, spitting out her occupation like it was poison.

 “Regardless of what Adeline says, we really don’t need an outsider to come in and solve our problems for us. I--” he stopped himself, and she began to understand why he was acting so prickly to her, “--we have everything under control. Just don’t get in our way.”

And with that, March turned his back to the farmer and continued to work on shaping the weapon on the anvil. The farmer just stood there, dumbfounded. Olric even seemed surprised with that last admission from March as he scratched the back of his neck and chuckled awkwardly. 

“Sorry about that, March is a little upset about not being the center of attention in the town anymore,” Olric whispered to her, confirming her suspicions.

“No worries, Olric. I’m sure he’ll come around eventually. I could see myself working with the two of you to improve the town,” she said optimistically. Olric smiled at that and returned to the working side of his brother as she turned away to leave.

March grumbled to himself as he slammed the hammer down onto the molten iron. Who does she think she is, strolling into Mistria thinking that she deserves love and praise despite not yet doing anything for the town? I’m sure he’ll come around eventually? I could see myself working with the two of you to improve the town?! Oh please, as if he needs help from some dumb and pretty outsider. Her blind optimism almost makes him feel sick to his stomach, and her saccharine smile made his stomach churn in a weird and unwelcome way.

“March? March!” 

March looked up from the anvil and over to his brother with a confused but annoyed cock of his head. Orlic only huffed as he adjusted the slowly but surely forming sword on the anvil. 

“You were going to strike the metal with half of it hanging off the side! Gosh, that farmer’s really got you in a mood huh?” Orlic huffed.

March stiffened and reddened with frustration, “No way! She’s just some boring outsider. There’s no way she’s actually going to contribute to Mistria.”

Orlic crossed his arms with a scoff, “I know you dude. No one has ever made you this mad by simply existing,” March flushed further, upset that Orlic sniffed him out this fast. His brother studied his facial expressions and the young blacksmith prodigy fidgeted with his hammer. Olric broke out with a wide grin after a few moments.

“No way.”

“W-what?” March bristled.

Orlic shrugged, his mouth still graced by an insufferably large smile, “Oh, nothing, nothing,” he said, heading over to a shelf to grab his own hammer. For a second March let out a huff of relief that his teasing brother was letting his quips go, until--

“That farmer is pretty cute, dontcha think?”

March sputtered and vehemently denied it.

“Oh sure, sure. It’s not like I watched you oogle her or anything.” 

“Shut up! That didn’t happen. Let’s get back to work, we’ve already wasted enough time over pointless chit-chat.”

Orlic shrugged and quietly went back to work once he was satisfied with getting a rise out of his sibling. 

It didn’t take that long for March to discover that he enjoyed working with the farmer. And to come to terms that he found her cute, too.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Three

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - smut and alcohol

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This is the chapter where the smut starts. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.3k

A/N : This chapter picks up a couple of weeks after the last and things are finally going to get moving a bit. Again, thank you so much for reading and liking the previous chapters, I really hope you’ll enjoy where I plan to go with this!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Weeks passed, time and space allowing you to forget about Billy and the offer he’d made you. To her credit, Tammy had stuck with the job at Anvil and even seemed to be enjoying it, and she only rarely expected you to drop her off or pick her up. And Billy was nowhere to be seen; if he knew you were there, if he noticed your car, he didn’t bother to come out to see you. Everything felt like it was as it should be. In fact, everything felt better than it should.

Most days you didn’t even see Tammy; she’d go to work then out for food with her new friends, not getting home until late, leaving you with the whole apartment to yourself. Not that you were home much. No, you’d been taking extra shifts, trying to save some money. Soon enough Tammy would realise that she didn’t need you to split the bills and you’d wanted to be ready for when that day came.

As much as you didn’t want to have to move out, the thought of having your own space seemed nice. 

Space that you found yourself desperately wishing for when Tammy texted you to let you know that she was throwing a party. You’d just finished your last delivery of the evening and all you’d wanted to do was go home, take the world's hottest shower, and then climb into bed. 

Instead, when you got home, you had to fight to get to the bathroom, and suffer through the quickest shower imaginable because Tammy’s guests kept banging on the door. As for going to bed early? You gave up on that dream before you’d even reached the apartment door; the noise from the party flooded out into the stairwell, practically shaking the fucking walls.

You tried to be a good sport about it, hiding away in your room with your headphones on, trying to relax after a long day but you couldn’t. After two hours, you were at your wits end and you needed a drink (or to strangle Tammy - whichever opportunity presented itself first). Having to force your way through a crowd just to get to your own kitchen did little to help your mood but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Right in front of the refrigerator stood a leggy blonde - the sort with devastating curves and a perfect figure - but she wasn’t the one that held your attention. No, you were more stuck on the person at the end of her arm, the man whose chest her hand was possessively resting on. Billy-fucking-Russo.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered aloud but still remained unnoticed. Insignificant. Inconsequential. 

For a few moments, you waited, like an expectant child, hoping someone would finally realise that you were there and move, but the longer you watched them, her hand stroking his chest and his eyes on hers, the angrier you felt. And you blamed him.

Normally it wouldn’t have bothered you  - you were fine with blending in, with people not noticing you - normally you would have cut your losses and returned to your room. But he was standing there, in your home with that shit-eating grin on his lips while some woman pawed at him.

The anger was irrational, it was stupid - you’d told him no, you didn’t get to be angry. But why had he even asked? Why go through all of that when it was obviously so easy for him? He’d stood in front of you and laughed at the idea you weren’t his type, but here he was, proving you right. Was that why he’d given up so easily? (Though could you really call it easy when you’d told him no at least half a dozen times?)

Finally, something broke inside of you.

“Hey, can you fucking move?” It came out before you could stop yourself, a little louder than it really needed to be, but it got her attention.

And his.

“Excuse me?” She turned on you and, yeah, she was just as pretty face on.

“Hey, you’re here,” Billy smiled, though the smile only lasted for a moment.

“Of course I’m here, I fucking live here.” You snapped, pulling the refrigerator door open, forcing the blonde to step back.

“Oh, you’re the roommate, the bike messenger. That’s cute.” The blonde smirked, all but looking down her nose at you (which honestly wasn’t hard given the five inch heels she was standing on).

“I’ll show you fucking cute in a minute,” you practically snarled as you fished a can of beer from the fridge. 

She stepped forwards, ready to call your bluff, but Billy decided to chime in.

��Michelle, can you give us a moment?” He barely even looked at her and, under different circumstances, you might have enjoyed the way her face dropped at being dismissed by him. But you were too angry at him to pay her much mind once she started to walk away, even if she did mutter something that sounded vaguely threatening under her breath as she went.

Billy looked at you, obviously trying to figure out where your little outburst had come from. You tongued the inside of your cheek, glancing around at the mess Tammy’s guests had left all over the kitchen - mess you’d probably have to clean up in the morning.

“You should probably go after her,” you finally broke the silence, “she might fall off those heels and break her neck.”

“I’m sorry.” He offered with something of a sigh.

“For what?”

“For what she said. It was shitty.”

“It’s fine.” It really wasn’t fine. “I’m used to it.” It still pissed you off though. “And if it really bothered you, you should’ve at least had the balls to say it was shitty while she was still standing here. Not that I need you protecting me.”

“Have I done something wrong?” He finally decided to ask. “I feel like you’re pissed at me but I did exactly what you wanted me to do, I stayed away.”

“Being in my apartment isn’t staying away, Billy.”

“And that’s why you’re pissed? Because I came to a party? It’s not like I was trying to hunt you down, you came over here. Tammy said you’d stay in your room, that -”

“You know what? Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” With that, you turned and started to walk away from him, swiping a bottle of vodka from the counter as you made your way back. Billy called after you, but he didn’t dare try to follow, and you didn’t breathe again until you were safely back in your room.

The next hour or so faded into something of a blur once you opened the vodka. Outside of your room the party raged on, showing no signs of ending anytime soon, but all you could think about was Billy. Have I done something wrong? It played over and over in your head and, even hours later, you still didn’t have an answer.

Yes, he’d done something wrong.

Only, no, he hadn’t.

You’d told him no, you’d turned him down; you didn’t get to be upset that he was letting other women throw themselves at him. You didn’t get to be angry that he was probably going to take Michelle home with him tonight. But you were angry, and that’s what annoyed you the most.

You felt used, felt like you’d been nothing more than a game to him and that, even if you had said yes, he would have dropped you the moment someone like her looked his way. 

Most of all you were upset that you had nothing to offer a man like Billy Russo.

After a while you got to your feet, planning on heading to the kitchen again for a glass of water - who would have guessed that trying to drink straight vodka was not the best idea? Being south of sober definitely made navigating the crowd of people a lot more interesting. Until you ran into her. Literally. Her drink fell from her hand the moment you collided, most going on you, but enough ending up on her.

You didn’t stop or wait to hear what she had to say, suddenly feeling like everyone was looking at you. You didn’t even make it to the kitchen, instead you ducked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, banging your fist against the door, needing to do something to help release the frustration. Once you were done hitting the door, you leaned against it, pressing your forehead against the wood, trying to get your shit together enough to go back out there and make it back to your room without causing anymore issues.

It wasn’t until you heard the toilet flush that you realised you weren’t alone.

And, as you turned, there he was. Billy-fucking-Russo pulling up his zipper.

“Shit, sorry -” you blurted out, cheeks burning with embarrassment, “- the lock, sometimes it doesn’t -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy shrugged, washing his hands like it was all perfectly normal, “though if you wanna work your frustration out, I can suggest something a little better than punching the door.”

“Of course you can,” rolling your eyes. “Can you just go, please?”

“I would, but I don’t think you really want that, sweetheart,” he smiled, waving his hand, reminding you that you were still pressed against the door, trapping him in there with you. You didn’t move. “Seriously, what did I do to piss you off? You asked me not to bother you anymore, so I left you alone. Why are you acting like I kicked your dog?”

As he spoke, Billy stepped forwards. You didn’t move, you just kept your eyes fixed on his, on those dark eyes that seemed to look right through all of your bullshit. You could get lost in those eyes; you wanted him to look right through you to all the things you kept hidden, just to prove yourself right about him when he walked away.

You didn’t answer his question. You didn’t have an answer for him. Silence fell and the space between you shrunk with every passing second until you had to tilt your head back against the door just to look at him.

“Why me?” You finally dared to ask the question that had been plaguing you since that first kiss.

“Why you, what?”

“Why kiss me when you have women like Michelle throwing themselves at you? Was it a slow week or did you think I’d just be desperate enough to say yes?” There was a pain in your words that you didn’t want to share with him; you didn’t want Billy to know that you were jealous, that he’d made you feel cheap and easily replaced.

For a second he looked at you, like he was thinking, like he was trying to understand just what you were saying. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, catching every little flicker of upset. Then he was moving, reaching for you and pulling you towards him, while simultaneously pressing you back against the door, his lips finding yours.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. No, it was everything you thought of when you dared to think of Billy; dominant and eager, possessive and hungry. His teeth nipped your lower lip, relieving you of your last scrap on common sense. You could taste whiskey on his lips and on his tongue as you fought with him to deepen the kiss, to get everything you could from him. Fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, his body strong and firm against yours.

His hand held the back of your neck, fingers tangling with your hair, holding you in place while he devoured you with his kiss. It wasn’t long before your hips started to move, pressing yourself against him, trying to find some sort of relief.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed against your lips.

The confession was almost enough to distract from the hand that moved between your bodies. Your thigh lifted to his hip, desperately pressing closer and closer while his lips began to trail up and down your neck. His touch made you feel like you were burning from the inside out and your breath caught the moment you felt his hand slip beneath the waistband of your leggings and into your panties. Your head fell back against the door as his fingers slipped lower, and by the time they reached your clit, you were aching for him.

Billy paused for the briefest of seconds, waiting for any sign that he’d gone too far. You gave him none. His lips covered yours again, kissing you and swallowing down all the gasps and moans that started to spill from you the moment his fingers started to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was eager, pushing you violently towards breaking point; too fast, too soon.

You felt the bang through the door before you heard it, Tammy called your name, and you froze.

“W-what?” You called out, quickly realising that Billy’s fingers were still moving and he had no intention of stopping. 

“Did you just throw a drink at Michelle?”

Billy’s hand sunk lower through the arousal that had soaked your panties and started to ease a finger inside you. The look on his face was shamelessly smug, enjoying watching you struggle to keep quiet. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t try to make him stop; you wanted him to do his worst.

Tammy banged on the door again.

“Well, did you?”

“No,” you gasped as his finger started to stroke into you from tip to knuckle.

“She said you did.”

His finger bent inside you while his thumb teased your clit; he knew exactly what he was doing, how impossible he was making things.

“I didn’t, it - it was an accident.” Your voice broke and your back arched, pressing into his touch.

His lips moved to your ear, tongue trailing along your lobe before he whispered; “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” And, as if to prove the point (or maybe just because he was enjoying watching you squirm) Billy sank a second finger into your wetness. Just one look at him told you everything you needed to know; he loved how much control he had over you, how much power.

“I said how did you accidentally -”

“Tammy, I -” you bit your lips together, trying to swallow down a moan, clenching around his fingers, “- I didn’t do anything to Michelle, so can you just fuck off and leave me alone?”

“You are fucking unbelieveable, you know that? I can’t fucking -”

Whatever she was saying, it didn’t matter. Your fingers tangled in Billy’s hair and you pulled him into a needy kiss, using his lips to muffle the sounds he was tearing from you. Every stroke from his fingers left you feeling dizzy, taking another piece of your sanity with them every time they pulled back. Your hips shifted, riding his fingers, taking everything he was giving you.

You already knew that you were going to let him fuck you. You were already thinking about it; right there against the door first, then bent over the sink so you could watch him in the mirror. Everywhere, anywhere. Every little thing was Billy, as his fingers drove you higher and higher.

Awkwardly, you ran your hand down the front of his shirt to his pants, finding the bulge of his erection and palming it through the fabric. You felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours, his hips pressing into your touch. Fuck, you couldn’t get over how hard he was because of you. 

His fingers bent, stretching you, exploring you, until they found a spot that made you shudder.

“Billy -” you cried against his lips.

“So that’s what you sound like when you cry my name,” he groaned in response, looking at you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You could tell that he wanted more, that he needed everything from you. It should have scared you just how much he wanted but as his fingers found that spot over and over again, you couldn’t think about anything but Billy and how he was making you feel.

Your hand moved, tracing the hard outline of his cock, but you couldn’t do much more than that as Billy’s fingers dragged you to orgasm. He kissed you as you came, fingers still stroking into you, trying to drag the moment out as long as possible. Even his lips and tongue couldn’t completely muffle the moans and cries that spilled from you but, if anything, Billy seemed to enjoy it.

When it was done, your foot found the floor again, legs shaking beneath you as you tried to catch your breath. And, as you did, reality started to hit home. 

What had you just done? You’d let your roommate's new boss finger you in the bathroom at a party after drinking too much vodka, that's what.

And, why? Because you’d been jealous that he’d been giving someone else a shred of attention. Because he’d done exactly what you’d asked him to and he’d left you alone.

His lips moved back to your neck, his body pressed impossibly close, letting you know he wasn’t done. Billy wanted more. And you - fuck, some part of you still wanted that, especially when he pulled back his fingers and left you feeling devastatingly empty. You hated how worthless you suddenly felt knowing that you’d given him what he wanted from you - so what if he’d been thinking about you? That didn’t change the fact that, if you hadn’t stumbled into the bathroom, he probably would have taken Michelle home.

(He still could take her home. He could fuck her with the same fingers he'd just had inside you.)

Your whole body tensed when you felt his hands tugging at your leggings, and you knew it couldn't continue.

“Stop,” you finally managed to find your voice again, pushing him away from you.

Billy looked at you, confused and maybe even a little angry (or maybe you wanted him to be angry because it made what came next easier for you).

“What’s wrong?” He asked, expression softening when he noticed the look of anguish on your face.

“I can’t -” your voice broke. You hated yourself and hated him for making you feel that way, for twisting up your insides and giving you a fleeting glimpse of feelings you knew could never last.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek, trying to soothe you before you recoiled.

“I shouldn’t've, I - I need to -”

For the first time since you’d met him, Billy was left lost for words, trying to figure out what had happened in the last thirty seconds to trigger this sudden change in you, and you took the opportunity to open the door and slip away from him. You heard him call after you but you didn’t stop, making your way through the small crowd that had somehow managed to cram itself into your apartment. You didn’t see him try to follow after you, you didn’t look back, even as you reached the front door and left the apartment. 

You walked for a little while, not really knowing where you were going or what you were going to do. You just knew that you couldn’t go back, that you couldn’t face him. Eventually you wound up in the little diner a couple of blocks over where you sometimes grabbed breakfast in the morning and you stayed there, drinking coffee and eating pancakes until the early hours of the morning, until you were certain that the party would have finished and everyone would have left.

As much as you didn’t want to, you kept thinking about Billy, about everything that had happened, and how much you’d wanted it before the panic had set in. By the time you finally made it home, you were exhausted, crawling into bed and promising yourself that you’d stay away from Billy Russo from then on.

END NOTES : After the next part there are going to be fewer time jumps between chapters, I just wanted to kind of let Billy and the reader stew in their emotions for a bit. The next part is pretty much finished, it just needs some editing (funny story, the T and the I keys on my laptop are loose so if there’s any hilarious typos that slip though that’s probably why). But, yeah, the next part should be up next saturday!

As always, thank you so much for reading and liking and doing all the tumblr things, it means a lot to me! Also I have a tag list now so drop a comment or message me if you wanted to be added

Have a great day!

Chapter Four

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley

[red-n-ded]

Just wanna drop this since MHA is ending

Meet Inazuma Kaminari

She is the only daughter of a local American-Japanese pro hero, Electress the Power Anvil Heroine, who has the quirk Electric Rope (she can make and wield ribbons, ropes and whips out of the electricity she produces)

She was named Inazuma but Denki was her nickname because her parents thought she was going to be a boy. Denki always wanted to be a hero, running around naming herself Chargebolt with her older brother Akari, but when her quirk manifested, it went out of control and her mother called to help her. It ends up damaging her nerves and ending her limelight career, forced into an underground job in Japan. This made Denki forever guilty and afraid of her own quirk for years.

In Canon, this fear would prevent him from chasing after his dream of being a hero until he decides to during middle school, when his classmates think he’s too stupid to become one.

But here, Denki is a girl and often compared by how similar she looks like to her heroic mother, pressuring her to take up the mantle as the next Electress. The guilt only made it worse as she is determined to live the life she stole from her mother while refusing to use her quirk to fullest out of fear of hurting those she loved again.

She made it her mission to not just become like Electress, she wants to BE Electress. At the beginning of the year, she had her hair in a long braid that reaches her ankles and worr a copy of her mother’s suit to Battle Trial. Also, just like her mother, she values close combat and weaponry, using a staff, nicknamed Lightning Rod, that can conduct electricity. It’s also a quirk suppressor, preventing her from using more than 500 volts at a time.

Denki lives in constant fear and pain, supressing so much energy she needs to let out, while hiding it behind a dumb, flirty blonde persona. But when her friends get hurt at the USJ, she can’t keep it in anymore and invents Indiscriminate Shock, opening her eyes to new possibilities that Electress could never imagine.

If i like this enough i might make a fanfic of this