#let the liquor and ice quiet my head

[jaker-shit]

girl with fangs and split tongue and heterochromia please save me

[leclerckiss]

love letters ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to lovers, humour, fluff, confessions, this is both a smau & written piece.

a/n: one of my favourite tropes ever: guilty. this feels a little messy but I had a lot of fun writing it.

౨ৎ

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yourusername: hello from the birthday girl here <3 thank you so much for all of the kind messages, wishes & gifts. sending lots of love

3,122 comments

friendusername: happy bday to our favourite girl ever 🍰🫶🏼

yourusername: 🤍🤍🤍

user1: happy birthday to our favourite paddock princessss

charlesleclerc: did you like the cake I bought you then, or?

yourusername: I loved it until you threw half of it in my face

charlesleclerc: it tasted nicer that way

franciscagomes: bday girl !!

yourusername: i love youu

franciscagomes: i love you more 🤍

pierregasly: what about me?

franciscagomes: today is about y/n. shush.

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I. Your Birthday.

After hours spent with café au lait and too much maple syrup on pancakes in the morning with gift receiving and wishes, a quiet luncheon with those closest to your heart, enjoying the beauty of the shores and rosé champagne, evening eventually settles in a beautiful colour against the heavens of Monaco.

You have never been one for the dramatics or high attention of crowds, settling on an intimate celebratory affair amongst close friends and family: pretty dresses and glasses of Lavender French '75 or those strawberry daiquiris that Ésme is in love with; a sweet, favourite song heard in the background.

Charles arrives fashionably late, the collar of his white-linen shirt loosened and soft, dark-brunet hair slightly tousled as he comes near, the sight of a smile on his face you've always loved, dimples revealed.

There is a certain relief that comes with being graced by his presence, like you had been silently longing and waiting for his greeting before anybody else's, though you disguise it from any chance of teasing.

"(Y/N)," Your name rolls off his tongue like caramel, accentuated as he shifts to kiss both your cheeks in friendly affection before he chuckles at your expression, "Happy birthday." Mon ange.

"Thank you," You breathe, a laugh falling past your mouth at the sight of him in manifestation, inclining your head when you look at him through your lashes, "I was beginning to think you forgot."

"Forget? Me?" The Monegasque exclaims as though wounded, placing his hand to his chest though the smile about his sun-kissed visage never dissipates, stealing a nearby glass of champagne, "Never. I had some work to finish."

There is an edge of teasing beneath your looks, a dance of butterflies in your stomach when he touches the small of your back fleetingly as he shifts past with that signature wink of his, all friendly and humorous in years of friendship, and yet your heart stutters.

You almost say something else, confessions and thoughts that want to erupt from your chest like love letters you have never sent – certain it is merely the liquor fogging your judgement – but he's wandered away with a final promise before a syllable can come forth.

"Let me get the birthday girl a drink, oui?"

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yourusername: july with my favourite people <3

mentioned charlesleclerc, friendusername, franciscagomes and two others

1,354 comments

user1: literal angels

user2: second pic is definitely y/n and charles

friendusername: you still owe me another ice cream 🍨

yourusername: sorry bby, i’ll be at your front door with a double vanilla ice cream soon <3

franciscagomes: 🤍🤍

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II. At the beach.

Warm light kisses your skin like heavenly delight, a forgotten copy of Paris' Vogue beside where you are currently bathing with a finished strawberry lemonade, long lashes fluttering when you open your eyes to gaze at the skies above in the heat of July, a mosaic of white and cerulean about the Côte d'Azur.

Most of the others have momentarily departed for the nearby café for new sweet treats, though you are consciously aware of a half-dozing Charles Leclerc nearby against the slight flush down the bridge of his nose and eyelashes that ghost about his cheekbones where he is lying.

Pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Charles?"

It takes him a second, the mention of his name rousing him to blink out of a hazy hint of a dream with the tilt of his chin towards the direction of your voice that calls to him like an angel's symphony, squinting against the haze of light before a lazy, boyish smile reveals his pearlescent teeth, "Mm?"

Shifting upright, consciously trying not to stare at him for too long though you have come to simply welcome and fall used to the sight of his naked chest, all smooth ridges and lean muscle, you absently adjust the ribbons of your pretty bikini and reach for sun cream.

"Do you think you could help me put some on my back, please?" You ask politely, offering him the item whilst shifting on your knees and gathering the edges of your hair over your shoulder that have fallen loose.

He does not respond initially, not until he's sat upright and shifted closer with a kind edge of a smile that dances across his face, "Oui."

Charles does not hesitate or take advantage of the circumstances, applying the fine lotion against the curve of your shoulders with gentle ministrations and lower down, fingertips feather-light, careful not to linger too long.

The act feels oddly intimate as you gaze towards the serene shores, like his touch is meant for the most secret parts of you, an unconscious shiver and the subtle arching of your vertebrae when he traces a particular area. Whether he notices or not, there is no indication given, instead continuing in a method that seems entirely platonic but leaves an ache in your stomach.

"Merci," You tell him once the deed is most finished and he draws away, shifting just enough to offer a look of him from the corner of your eye in a gratuitous smile.

You wonder if how his gaze lingers is the same way yours does, like a painting worth admiring or a flower in emergence, heart thrumming quicker under your sternum before the moment is broken when he clears his throat.

"Of course."

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III. A dinner.

Caffè Milano, a quaint but fanciful and warm establishment tucked in the quiet luxuries of Monaco's principality with its dancing chandeliers, oak-varnished furniture and beloved menu.

A semblance of familiarity, pleasantry and polished glasses clinking against the rhythm of conversation amongst friends in the warm afternoon: a lingering aroma of roses from the centrepiece décor neatly arranged and fine cuisine.

"– Non, I am not lying," Pierre is recounting a recent, humorous anecdote of experience, thumb idly tracing the edge of his wine glass whilst you and the others listen on, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how much you have laughed in the recent half-an hour, idly toying with the necklace resting at the hollow of your throat in common fashion.

"You are." Francisca frowns, albeit fondly.

Your concentration is removed from their talk when there is a subtle caress against the ankle bone, a touch beneath the furniture and a fleeting glance from your peripheral sight at the Monégasque beside you, all handsome smiles and that addictive song of laughter whilst a stray hair falls about his eyebrow, though he does not seem to show any degree of deliberation or notice that his shoe idly touches you there.

You have the urge to hold him, caress him, to press a thousand, butterfly kisses along his jaw and say something you should not. Instead, you continue to listen and nurse the last of your Château-Chalon.

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f1gossip: y/n at the grand prix this weekend <3 our paddock princess is back

mentioned yourusername

333 comments

user1: she looks divineee

user2: charles and y/n friends to lovers when?

user3: leave them alone, they’re just friends and have been since childhood

౨ৎ

IV. A balcony.

Charles had forgotten his keys somewhere and, until his dear brother could come and return them, you had offered the warmth of your welcomed apartment: all minimalist but homely in décor against a palette of cream, white and the like all complemented by paintings and furniture.

One hour had melted into two by the late afternoon with dusk's slow kiss, hints of lilac and grey in the edge of the skies, your cats curled contently on the plush chaise lounge and resting after endless affections from the Monégasque who seemed to be in love with them.

"Can I join you?"

The voice – honest and clear, albeit a fraction amused – is recognisable as you are drawn out of reverie on the balcony of rocaille motifs, gazing into quiet streets below and the nearby public gardens flourishing with flora, gnawing at your inner cheek as you look to the man where he leans against the threshold, a look in his eye that comes with a subtle indulgence after he stole your favourite bottle of rosé in the kitchenette.

"Of course, yes." Always.

He stands beside you, a few inches apart with his elbow resting against the intricate balustrade when he follows your dreamy stare for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. There is a comfort between the two of you, something you know must come from years of familiarity:

An seemingly endless, innocent youth that manifested in its complications as you aged and neared adolescence, like an evening primrose that flowers and sometimes falls apart, but always returns, even changing with senescence. With age.

You can feel his gaze, almost like an internal, silent imploration for your own, the edges of your fingers and nails polished in a rose quartz-esque varnish that glitters prettily in the evening, and his lips are parted just enough as if wanting to say something before they curve a little higher on the edges, his words hushed.

"Have you ever thought about love?"

Your eyebrows raise a fraction, though it is not so unexpected of a question and one that has been on the edge of your tongue since forever, even with the doubtful inkling that he has merely enjoyed too much wine.

"Sometimes," All of the time. You murmur, a soft, breathless chuckle following as you shrug and tilt your head upwards, gazing above like some wished answer or instruction from the angels or whoever listens, "Why do you ask?"

"Because," His response is delayed, though his answer is sincere and thoughtful like he has been thinking over his words since a time he can't remember until his fingertips touch your elbow fleetingly, "I can't stop thinking about it."

There is a moment, a single fragment, in which you meet his eyes, his touch is known and everything seems to pause like a finished painting, a still image in a history book: his hand, his body and his eyes – the colour of autumn, earth, hints of something else so unique to him.

"Charles, what are you saying?" You laugh softly, looking away momentarily and toying with the knitted wool of your soft cardigan with the kind of feigned indifference that comes with disguising truth, "I didn't think you were a romantic, who has caught your eye?"

For a moment, you wish he would say someone's name, a blessed girl that you have never heard of, so that you can deny your own feelings and settle on the painful reality that you are merely friends.

Instead, his gaze flickers, almost nervously, and a palm cradles the curve of your cheek and jaw with the hesitance of a man of conflicting considerations even when he tries to smile a little. "Please, forgive me."

There is not an instance given to allow any insistence or inquiry as Charles presses a kiss upon your mouth: it is not rushed and there is a desperation there that is not greedy, tasting the remnants of your lipstick and rosé, slow and methodical – longer when you indulge and welcome the feeling.

He does not draw away completely when the feeling ends, his forehead lightly pressed to yours and his touch a little firmer where his fingers curl into your hair, swallowing slowly as his eyes close for a moment until he dares meet your stare once more.

"(Y/N)?"

You smile.

"Je t'aime." There is something in his face you have never seen before, something raw and open like an unfurling rose revealing itself, and you know that your heart is his and his alone.

Another kiss with your prompting, fingertips tracing the soft cotton of his shirt near the shoulder until you drape arms about his shoulders, breathing him in with hints of raspberry, amber and cinnamon, "I love you."

There is poetry in his eyes like those unsent love letters shoved under your pillow, and he delves in, holding you close and intimate until you're most certain, mutually, of the silent yearning you have felt for one another for years.

"C'mere," He mumbles, an arm drawing around the back of your thighs as he picks you up and holds you securely, and you cannot help but laugh in pure, unadulterated glee at his touch and affections, the bottle of rosé abandoned as the night settles in and you are whisked away.

He loves you.

He loves you.

[mandy-asimp]

Redecorating Your Heart

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Fluff mostly

Summary: you begin to make changes to Melissa's home, but one year you have a different change in mind

The first time it wasn't as obvious. It was a slight change. You and Melissa had been dating two years prior before she really asked you to just move in. After all, you were never at your apartment.

The first thing you had to change was her couch situation. You understood it and told her multiple times if you moved in, it would be coming off within your first week. She would laugh it off like you were joking, she really believed you were.

But when you moved in, you had a plan. You slowly unfolded parts, knowing that by Friday she'd be so swamped she wouldn't even notice it. And you were right. By Friday she didn't. It took Barbra coming over Monday to realize it.

"Melissa Ann, have you finally come to your senses about your couch?" The older woman beamed as she sat down, her hands running over the soft fabric. "I must say I'm impressed!"

And that's when Melissa looked at you. You were in the kitchen pouring the two wine glasses and grabbing yourself a drink with whiskey.

You had this smile on your face. One she couldn't be mad at, so she sighed in defeat against you. "It was y/n's idea. She has been trying to get it off for awhile now.

That's when you came over glasses in hand and a big, wide smile on. "I won't try and alter anything else...." you trailed off. Both woman gave you a disbelieving look and you could only shrug and hand over their drinks.

You made yourself comfortable next to Melissa as the two talked about anything they needed to. And you would listen, you would give your opinion if asked, or you would sit there and just really listen. Letting your girlfriend's voice carry you off into sleep.

That night though, you stayed up and traced patterns on her thighs as they talked. Following your own finger, you didn't pay much attention to the world around you.

So lost in thought about what she might say to you once Barb leaves. Would she be really mad, or would she let this one go? What if she makes you put it back on yourself? What if she enjoys it off?

There were too many questions that you thought of, and both woman could see it.

"Is she listening?" Barb asked Melissa. Trying not to change her tone to bring you back. Melissa glance to you, and easily shook her head. "You really gonna let her keep the wrapping off?"

Melissa sighed, "honestly? Yeah...if it makes her happy I'm willing to make such a small altering to the house. It is nice fabric, so I'm not really mad. The smile she had when you pointed it out was worth it." She explained simply. It was the truth. If this made you happy, then she saw no harm.

"Melissa Schemmenti, if I didn't know any better I would say you're in love." Barb teased before finishing her glass.

The red head shook her head and finished hers as well. Your drink had been nothing but ice for awhile now. Melissa assumed that's why you were so quiet, you made your drink just a bit to strong.

But once you got up to clean up their glasses, you seemed so fine. Like there wasn't a drop of alcohol in your system. Meanwhile she walked Barbra out.

"She's a sweet one, Melissa. She's good for you and you know it." The friend gave a reassuring hug before walking out to her car.

Once Barb pulled off, Melissa found her way back to you. Wrapping her arms around your waist as you poured her another glass and made yourself another drink.

"Didn't drink too much in that first one?" She teased you quietly, squeezing you before pulling away.

You turned slowly and handed over the glass, "you out of everyone should know I know how to hold my liquor." You bite back with a playful smile. "Mm plus, you and Barb were talking about your field trip that's at the end of the year. What am I to do in a house all alone for a night?" You feigned you boredom.

~

You did know what you were doing that night. You had six months to plan it. After the couch, you had to make her believe you truly weren't going to change anything else....but her bathrooms....

They weren't horrible, but you saw a vision. From the strange orange to a modern grey and marble. And originally it was just going to be the downstairs, but then she had mentioned it just once.

"One day, when I finally have time, I'm going to fix that upstairs bathroom. It's just not in anymore." Her words that you took and ran a mile with it. That's how you got to here.

With the help of your neighbors, who you had met moving in, you had a place to store all the new cabinets.

"And you're sure you'll be ok tonight?" Melissa had her bags by the door as you handed her her purse. "I seriously can have Barb watch my class."

You shook your head and laughed. "Mel, you have been talking about this since school basically started. I will be ok. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, ok?"

"You can call me if you need anything, I know a guy for almost everything." She reminded you. Staring at you with adoration before reaching out to cup you cheek. "I...." she began and your heart skipped a beat instantly.

You knew she struggled with saying the big word. After her last, she explained how she is still healing but is ready to get out there again.

A understanding smile crept onto your lips. "I know," you whispered nodding slightly. "Go! Have fun sleeping over in a museum." You pushed her hand a way carefully. Leaning in to kiss her once on the lips, and a bunch all over.

She laughed at your antics. "Alrighty, I'll get out of your house. But seriously hun, if you need anything don't be afraid to call."

You bowed and helped her load the car. Giving her one last kiss before she pulled out. You watched her till she turned the corner, and your sweet smile turned devilish in seconds flat.

You bolted back in and wasted no time setting up your music and getting started.

To start, you wanted to get out all the old furniture and get it to the garage. Opening it so you had a nice breeze flowing through the entire house (obviously turning off the air to not rack up the bill).

By eleven, you had most of the street helping you out. The guys building outside as everyone else worked inside. Painting or moving heavier pieces.

It was very neighbor like, and you couldn't help but feel more welcomed than ever within their community.

Then by two, you had several pizza's delivered and sent someone to get drinks. Everyone sitting around in the backyard, enjoying the moment.

"So, what made you decide to do both bathrooms?" Ned, he lived three houses to the right, asked.

His wife, Stephany coming out and sitting next to you. "And why haven't we ever been in your house? It's beautiful."

You shrugged a bit. "Well technically, it's Melissa's house. I moved in with her six months ago. But she complained about the bathrooms just once and I had already planned to redo them. I hated the orange. And she probably had a guy to do this, but I had a vision that I think she'll like. And it looks so much cleaner."

They all agreed with it, especially after they saw your sketches from several angles for each bathroom.

"And you didn't ask her to do this, did you? Just like with the plastic in the couch?" Beth smirked as she put her slice. She was the first one you really met and talked to about your future plans for the house.

You shook your head and everyone laughed. "In my world, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. She was never going to take that plastic off and I couldn't stand it either. And I know she can't stay mad at me forever," you stated. A part of you knew that was mostly true, she's never gone over a week not talking to you.

"Well, your plans are very nice and with the speed we're all moving at, once the paint dries we'll be down before nine. And when does she get home?" Hunter questioned, his leg fidgeting under the warm sun. "Seeing as it's a surprise?"

"She's home tomorrow afternoon. The school is doing an overnight field trip so it was perfectly planned out. It's also why I could give everyone a set date to take off. Which I thank you all for helping me with this project. I truly couldn't have gotten even an eight of this all done on my own." Everyone raised their glass and talked a little more.

Eventually, by nine, everything was finished. The light fixtures were switched out, water was running smoothly through all faucets, and you were pleased.

Now it was just you laying on the floor after a long day of work. You had just sent out another thank you to everyone who helped. That's when your phone began to ring. Melissa's contact popping up.

"Well look who isn't dead," she spoke so quietly. You assumed all the kids were asleep and it was just her awake in another room. Somewhere where she could keep her eyes on her little eagles. "I haven't heard from you all day..."

"I've been a very busy bee today. But you have my full, undivided attention. How was your field trip?" You hummed your interest.

And you listened to every word she said to you. Never moving from your spot or focusing on anything else. It was just time to talk to your girlfriend.

Although, it was two different girlfriends once she got home. You were upstairs in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the new shower head. It was you in your thoughts until you felt hands sneak around your waist.

You jumped, and screamed, but laughed it off once you spun to see your beauty. "Mel!" You beamed so wide. "You have got to feel this new shower head!" You made quick work to put her back under the water. Watching her face contort, then relaxing.

"And I see you've redone the bathrooms?" She moved her head to the side, letting the water massage her neck.

You couldn't help yourself when you placed kisses over her exposed skin. "Do you like it?" You asked in between. Your touch being featherlight as you ran your hands over her body.

She hummed with a knowing smile, "you keep redoing my house without asking...." she tried to sound mad.

"But aren't I good at it?" You had a lewd undertone. "Admit it Mel..."

You could almost hear her mental fight to keep her ground, but that undertone had her ready to cave. She had to say though...you knew how to remodel a room. "Fine..." she felt your smile grow on her and she swore to never forget that feeling.

~

You lived with her for a year now, been dating for three. Today you had shown up to Abbott and it was almost summer again. And the rumors were that this was supposed to be the hottest summer on record.

It already was, and you had spent it very wisely. You had done a little summer shopping and tanning before the real summer.

"Hello sunshine!" You skipped into the teachers lounge. Catching everyone by surprise, but Melissa and Barb smiled at you and the lunch you brought them. "Here is your lunch! The weather is beautiful outside!" You took the seat next to Melissa, placing a kiss to her cheek.

"Now what did you do? What new alter did you make to our house?" Melissa laughed, really joking but you didn't laugh or fake being hurt. "Oh my, seriously now what? What am I going to come home and find?"

You looked to Barb for a second, hoping she would give any sign on Melissa's mood, then back to her. "Your backyard....was very bland. Empty. There was so much space and it's the hottest summer. You've been busy all week finishing up school and I figured come summer you would love to relax. And we don't have any trips planned, and it'd be a great way to know your neighbors-,"

"The same neighbors you let in to redo the bathrooms?" She quirked an eye brow at you.

"Yes those ones! They've been dying to meet you ever since the bathrooms." You strayed from the main point. "But! Back to my new thing that I have to tell you before you see since it was a bit more major."

"Did you redo the kitchen?!" She gasped, worried for her cookings future. Feeling relieved when your head shook.

"Although that wouldn't be bad! It could use a new coloring...the whole downstairs could use a makeover..." once again you side tracked, going quiet as your vision started planning itself.

Melissa knew that look now, she'd be a fool to miss it three times now. "You leave the downstairs alone, ya' hear? Now what is this new addition?"

You beamed at the mention and leaned in close to her ear. The room assumed it was something so bad as Melissa put her head in her hands but you had a wide, toothy grin still.

"It'll be fun! We can sit by the side and get some sun. Itll give us a reason to have people over more as well, you'll have more mouths to feed. Which means you'll get to cook more." You began to list out the pros.

Melissa rolled her head to look at Barb, who just laughed at her friends reaction. "And what was the alter that has been made?" Barb looked to you, curious to know herself.

"She got a pool," Melissa huffed. "How did you even get it approved? Let alone the money?" She didn't know how to feel about this anymore.

"Well, I talked to the Stephany about who I should talk to and she said to find someone in the committee hall who would know about all that. Once that was sorted it out it was a matter of numbers. And while you were busy being an amazing teacher, I published another book. The first week of selling I managed to afford it." The smile that never left your face as you talked about your accomplishment made her feel warm.

She couldn't be mad. She knew she couldn't be. Just looking at you and she couldn't. She knew it was dangerous, but you also never did anything to make her have to be.

"Do you have any pictures? How'd you even hide that much construction?" She sighed, sitting up and folding her arms.

Barb looked taken aback by how calm the woman was. She knew how much Melissa hated people changing her space, but here you are. Making home renovations without a care in the world. And how the red head watched you with such intent as you showed it off. It was beautiful to say the least. You were what her friend needed more than anything.

"It'll be an amazing summer!" You got giddy at the thought of the next three months. "And, so you really can't be mad, I also added a little kitchen area. So you can cook outside and I can watch you while enjoying the sun. We'll be the talk of the neighbor hood."

Melissa laughed and shook her head. "I guess you weighed your pros over your cons heavily, haven't you?" You nodded proudly. "Well then I guess we have to put it to use soon. We'll have a book premier party for you. Since you live in secret from me." She teased.

"Oh Melli, you know I could never live in secret from you. I only work in secret, it's when I do my best work." She kissed her cheek before standing up. "I have to go though, I have shopping to do."

Barb and Melissa bid you goodbyes, watching you skip out into the soon-to-be summer day. "You're in love," Barb laughed with so much joy.

"I'm in love," Melissa confessed. "A pool?"

"Melissa let someone get a pool?" Ava came in, a knowing look on her face. "Gonna be a hot summer. She's gonna be in a bikini most of the time." Ave painted the picture, getting a look from Melissa. "I'm just saying. You're gonna definetly have a fun summer." She pointed with a head bob. "Does that mean you'll be havin' pool parties with your famous cooking?"

That caught everyone's attention a bit more. "If she plans one and lets me invite anyone, then I'll consider." She put out, "but that doesn't mean a yes."

Ava stood with a shinning smile, "that's all I need to hear!" She left the lounge satisfied.

Meanwhile everyone else took the chance to make small jabs at Melissa for actually being a softy. But it was worth it once she came home.

You laid in the back on a big heart floaty in a casual white two piece. You were spread out and enjoying the sun that was shining brightly.

Melissa thought you looked so peaceful. And she hated to admit it again, the backyard looked nice with the addition.

She figured, it's been a long day, joining you couldn't hurt. So she, without alarming you she was home, went to change into a swimsuit as well. Realizing this would be the first time you see her in one. It made her nerves shake a bit, but you've seen her naked...a swimsuit isn't any different, right?

She carefully got in, but before she could scare you, you spoke. "Took you long enough to change." You rolled onto your stomach and opened your eyes. Your lips softly curling up. "The next alter I make I'll let you in on it, promise." You hummed.

Melissa shook her head as she rested on the side of your floaty. "Don't. I like when you talk about them. You always have a different happiness radiating off of you. You take pride in your work. It's one of the things I love about you." She spoke so smoothly.

The words didn't click at first for you, truly you didn't think them twice till she said 'love'. "Really? You don't hate that I'm slowly taking over your house and altering it?"

Melissa chuckled, "of course not, hun. If I did I would've expressed my anger for it. But because I love you I'm willing to accept these changes. Plus you make them look nice, so I can't complain." She shrugged, but laughed when you started kissing all over her face.

"Oh! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" You repeated with pure joy as you couldn't stop laughing and kissing her face. "You don't know how pleased I am to hear those words!"

Melissa laughed at your antics again, "if I knew you would react like this I would've realized sooner."

"Oh God, Melissa! I've been in love with you since the first date, you were just so wonderful the first night that I knew I wanted to do right. I want to be with you forever, and I will die on that hill." You confided. Knowing you could go on explaining how much you loved her.

This time, she leaned to you. Kissing you passionately as she could. "It's a good hill to die on," she cockily mumbled. To which you pushed her off your floaty. "But are there any more surprises you have for me?"

You pretended to think, "we're going to Italy the day you get off for a week and a half. As our first vacation together." You played it down, getting pushed off your floaty now. "I thought it would've been good!"

~

It had been another year. You and Melissa had just celebrated four years, and she joked you would find something in the home to change now that it's been awhile.

She was right, which she wasn't surprised about, but was shocked with how big it was. She had come home from work to cars all down the street and the front door opened.

When she walked in, she was shocked to see her cousin that lived close by in the living room. It was an unexpected sight but she came back to reality when he hugged her.

"Is it really that much of a shock I'm here?" He joked, especially with how hesitant Melissa was to hug back.

"Where's...what?" She looked all around. Vinny finding her reaction hilarious.

That's when you came and hugged her from behind, the force you had pushing you both forward. "You're home!" You cheered. "You can't leave me for a week ever again!"

"You were allowed to come with!" She laughed. "But what is all this? Why is my cousin here?"

You looked behind her at Vinny, acting confused. "Your cousin is here?! I finally get to meet another of the Schemmenti's!" You went and hugged him like you w never met. Turning back to Melissa with a smile after, "I have a surprise for you."

"Of course you do," she shook her head with a sigh. "What is it this time?"

"The upstairs and basement." You came right out with it. Her mouth opened to say something, "before you say anything. Look first. Start with upstairs and then go down."

And you stood still as she did go upstairs. When she came down she had an unreadable look but was out of her work clothes. She walked down, this time you followed.

The basement you designed specifically for her. It was dim lit with a fancy poker table with chairs surrounding it. Over was a mini bar with a wine storage all across the wall. It was a nice wood flooring. A small lounge section on the other side.

Melissa, flicked the lights on and nearly had a heart attack. Her family was all in the basement with smiles. She turned to you, tears brimming her eyes as she saw relatives she hadn't seen in ages.

"What is all this?" She whispered, so stunned that you could pull this off. You weren't even introduced to her family yet.

You shrugged, "you worked extremely hard this year with two grades. I figured that after a long year of late nights and early mornings, you could use something good. Soo, I did a little sleuthing and found Vinny, who lived in the city. He helped me, after having to really prove that I was your girlfriend, get the rest of your family in. That's why I hadn't made any alters to the house. I wanted to go big and give you a surprise."

She hugged you tightly, "you're beyond amazing hun." She cried before going to greet everyone.

You watched from afar, not wanting to intervene into her moment. You were about to slip away, until Vinny appeared behind you. "Nah, you're all apart of this family. No matter what happens, nobody's ever gone this far for her. You must really love her." He pushed you towards the group.

Your cheeks became warm, "you have no idea." Was all you got out before Melissa grabbed your hand.

She stood next to you while holding your arm, "everyone, I wish I got to do the introduction, but this is Y/n, my girlfriend of four years." She beamed proudly and shoved you into the group. Laughing as you got bombarded with hugs and kisses to your cheek.

Later, everyone was in the kitchen cooking while laughter filled the air. Meanwhile you sat back and let Nana tell her all the stories of Melissa she could think of.

"So, four years is a long time to keep someone like her a secret." Rocco mentioned, glancing up to his cousin. "I mean I get a text from Vinny saying she's redoing the upstairs and downstairs while you're gone, then poof! She's on the couch making Nana laugh. Just saying if I was you, I would've been showing her off easily."

Melissa shook her head at the comment, "youse just mad I have a keeper that you can't get to again." She poked back. A smirk on her lips as she switch to look at you and Nana. "It's been awhile since Nana has ever welcomed anyone like this..."

Vinny came over with the bowl of uncooked noodles. "It's cause she cares for your happiness. Y/n. I wouldn't know anyone who would fly everyone in."

"She paid for everyone?" Melissa furrowed her brows, now focusing on you and Nana.

"Told you she cared." Vinny's voice faded back as Melissa thought deeply. She had no clue what you were talking about, but you looked overjoy at whatever answer you were given.

She whipped her hands off and pulled off her apron. Walking over carefully to not alarm you both but to still hear.

"...I promise." You swore, turning to look at your girlfriend. You wore a goofy smile that couldn't be shaken. "Melli!" You cheered.

"Can I talk to you for a sec hun?" She offered her hand. Pleased when you took it and followed her out back, away from all ears. "You flew everyone out?"

"I needed help." You said as if there wasn't people closer to call. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Melissa squinted her eyes at you. "What are you up to?" She raised the question, which only got her a toothy grin in answer. "Whatever it is, it better not be the kitchen."

"When we're married and you can't escape me I'll do the kitchen." You playfully mentioned. Laughing at how her eyes widened a bit at the mention. You walked inside after placing a caring kiss to her cheek, rejoining her family and helping out.

Melissa stood and watched, her cheeks flushed, and her heart pounding. You wanted to marry her?

~

You had this smile you couldn't wipe as you waltzed into Abbott. You almost glowed with how excited you were to see your girlfriend of five years. And five was your luckiest of numbers, so it had to be this summer.

"Nope. Another year without an alter to the house. So this year has to be bigger than last year and I'm thinking it's the kitchen she's after next." Melissa's voice rang in the room, clearly you were already a topic.

Once you turned the corner, Melissa sighed. "Oh you know you're excited to see me!" You joked as you plopped into her lap, arms naturally around her neck. "I have wonderful news for you!"

She looked to Barb, and she just smiled and sipped her coffee. It was a reaction that was all to familiar. She knew something Melissa didn't.

"Is that your reason for showing up?" Melissa pinched your thigh playfully. Watching your smile drop into a fake frown.

You let out a little sigh, "I'd come here to see your beautiful face any day. With or without amazing news. But you'll like it. When was the last time you went to Italy anyways?" You causally let out, hoping she wouldn't notice it at first.

But Melissa hung on to every word you've said for the past five years. "Italy?" She whispered with furrowed brows. "You're taking me to Italy? Why? How? When?"

"Well! I'm glad you're already along for the ride! Since your last day happens to be today, our plane leaves at nine tonight. I figured you would want to start your summer off right." You explained. An award winning smile for best girlfriend plastered on your face.

Melissa would've argued with you, saying that you can't plan a trip so short notice and give her no time for any proper packing.

"I can see it on your face, most of your basics are already together, I've packed your makeup the way you like, the only thing is clothes. Now if we had it my way...." you smirked down at her. Watching a subtle blush wash her cheeks. "But unfortunately we can't, so we're going shopping once you're done."

She knew there was no out. You already had it all planned and she knew it. "I'm done in an hour..." she whispered.

Melissa stared at you in wonder. Not knowing what she did to deserve you and your gifts. She adored you and it wasn't said enough. But you, you knew how to express it in every way. You would hold her if she had a bad day, cook if she couldn't, kept the house clean, made sure she never had to worry once she came home. You were her everything.

You kissed her softly, but with so much passion. "I'll go grab us food now then," you got up. Lingering around her just a second longer than usual. "I'll see you later, Melli."

"Bye, hun..." she watched you leave until she couldn't. She leaned back and just thought of the trip. She was going to Italy.

Meanwhile you were making the trip to her favorite food joint. Smiling when they had the order down before you even got to the counter.

"So...it's been what five years?" Pete checked you out. He seen you enough times with the red head to remember who you were. "Either of you making an official move?"

You smiled at the thought. "Who knows. If it's in our cards, I'm sure it'll happen. I can dream big though."

But you knew the miracle that would work. You knew Melissa better than anyone (except for Barb). Spoiling her while shopping was only the start.

~

"How long are we even staying? Where are we staying? Oh! I can show you all my families favorite places!" She got excited as you led through the mall.

She didn't expect you to stop outside of designer stores though. Her eyes falling to you with large dose of curiosity.

"No..." she caught your smile. Watching in slow motion as your hand opened the door and let her in. "Hun this is too much, we can go to somewhere simpler."

You sighed and walked in past her. "It's my treat. For all that you've done, this is how I can express my love for you. Spoiling you is only a minor expression. So! Melissa Schemmenti, let loose."

And she did. That woman knew how to shop for a new wardrobe. You were simply there for paying and carrying. Giving her the ultimate freedom to look everywhere. Her smile as every time she hit the checkout, it grew a little wider. This was the life she was destined to live and here you were providing it.

After a few hours of running in and out, you came up to the last store. Her favorite shoe store that she can only dream to buy from. "No. This is where I have to stop you. Those shoes are like a thousand dollars. A pair."

"Well it's a good thing you don't really get much of a choice. I'm picking up an order anyways. Take advantage of this moment Melli." You opened the door for her. Sighing when she didn't move. "Melissa. Come on."

"No. I can't let you spend that much on me on shoes." She stood her ground. In her mind you would've sighed and given up trying and you'd leave.

But you shrugged and went in anyways. Letting her watch the entire transaction as they handed you another bag. She was shocked that you actually had a pick up. Becoming even more shocked as they handed you two more. They weren't small bags either, each maybe having three pairs.

When you came out, you shook your hair back and started walking towards the car. "I seriously don't see why you didn't come in. I already got you the shoes but you could've gotten more." Melissa mumbled something as they walked. You didn't think twice when you spun around, standing just ever so slightly taller than her. "What?" You had a certain glint.

"I said, you're up to something." She stood her ground. Arms folding and pushing up her boobs a bit.

You stared at her with an undecipherable look now. Then you just resumed walking. Leading the way back to the car.

The silence killed Melissa. It left her with too much time to think of what you could be up to. Even when packing everything up, you stayed silent.

You could hear her wondering thoughts. How she would watch you for a few seconds before continuing.

"You really that suspicious of me, Melli?" You came up to her. "You think there something more to this don't you?"

She huffed and rubbed her face, "it's just...you spent a lot of money and planned an entire trip to Italy without once mentioning it. You usually slip up or hint once at everything you do. And I haven't heard a hint for Italy ever. So what? What is the catch?"

You grabbed her hands, "we have been dating for five years. We haven't gotten away to somewhere ever. And I like the number five so I figured our fifth anniversary should be special for that matter. Italy will be a trip you remember."

Her eyes squinted at you, searching for any dishonesty. "There's more."

You only smiled wider. "Fine! We're meeting your family there. I was gonna have them pick us up as a surprise but it's been secret for so long and now it's here." She spoke quickly.

Her green eyes widen with shock. "Seriously?" There was a nod. Followed quickly by a hug. "I don't know what to say..."

"Just enjoy your time there, that's all I can ask of you." You kissed her sweetly. "Now we finish packing and then we're off!"

~

School had begun again. It was a few weeks in when you made your first appearance. "No, she didn't ever make that alter to the house. I truly think she's looking for another house to decorate." Melissa was talking to Barbra.

You scoffed as you walked in. "Melissa Schemmenti, are you dissing my name in here?" You came in, few envelopes in hand. You took the seat next to the red head and kissed her cheek.

"It's nice to see you, Y/n. How's the house? It's been a year since the last change?" Barb joked, using the conversation from a few seconds prior.

You beamed and shook your head. "I actually have a different alter in mind recently!" And that's when you slid the white envelope over. The sage green wax seal dawning one side, as the other had The Howard's written in cursive.

Both you and Melissa watched as she carefully opened it. Her gasp catching everyone's attention now. She glanced up, eyes wide as she finally noticed the ring.

"But you said..." she was speechless.

Melissa bobbed her head, "that it would only take a miracle for me to get married again. Yes, I did. But if you saw what this one did, you would've been a fool to say no."

"How? What?" The friend was still confused at this news.

You perked up as Melissa sat back, knowing her fiancé was going to tell it better. And for the entire lunch period, everyone listened as you explained the night in such detail.

"And that's how I got the Melissa Schemmenti to say yes to marrying me." You concluded. You found Melissa's eyes. "And there is not a single thing I won't do for her."

You shared a soft kiss with her. Both parting with subtle smiles that meant more than they let on. "But, save the date. March 7th. It's a Saturday. I have to go meet with the planner though, I'll see you at home."

A quick kiss and then you were gone. Melissa left with her confused coworkers.

"So..." Janine began. Looking at the other envelopes in front of Melissa.

She sighed but couldn't lie, she knew who's invites they were and she wouldn't want anyone else. "You are all invited, don't worry." She stood up to hand them all out.

"Melissa Schemmenti, you feel deeply in love." Barbra was rereading the invite. A pleased look that her friend was finally getting someone who loved her the way she loved them.

And you were that person from the very start.

[rosiestalez]

LOVELY PLEASE. I need some Gambit angst. The angst where Gambit loves Rogue and he will never love you like he does her. I NEED IT. I NEED TO CRY.

Oh my gosh, y’all just LOVE angst dont y’all. I was working on something like this request before i got it, and i’m glad i finished this! Maybe i’ll make a part two to this! i have a good amount of requests and i’m getting them as quickly as i can thank you for understanding!

The Rules of the Game

Remy LeBeau x gn!reader

summary: Remy tells you something after 1 year of marriage!

warnings: ANGSTY ASF, cursing, a lot of alcohol is mentioned, i think that’s it. Picture from Pinterest

Happy reading 🫶

——————————————————————

It’s a rainy night; the soft sound of rain knocks on the windows, creating a gentle rhythm that fills the quiet house. The book in your hands is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire Remy lit before heading downstairs to play poker with his friends. The crackle of the fire mixes with the faint laughter rising from the basement, but the peaceful ambiance begins to fade as you hear the unmistakable sound of Remy stumbling upstairs, clearly drunk.

The kitchen cupboards bang open and shut, and you can hear him muttering curses in French under his breath.

“You okay, darlin’?” you call out from the couch, pushing your glasses up your nose. You turn away from your book, your gaze lingering on the kitchen. “Need some help?”

“I’m good, cherie, just tryna fin' my liquor,” he slurs in response, his words thick with alcohol.

Sighing, you reluctantly get up from your cozy spot and stroll into the kitchen. Without a word, you pull a brand-new bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the pantry and hand it to him.

“Oh, mon cherie, thank ya! You’re too kind to me!” he says, kissing your forehead clumsily before snatching the bottle from your hand and disappearing back downstairs. You roll your eyes, shaking your head at his drunken gratitude, and return to the couch, diving back into your book.

As the night wears on, the fire begins to dim, and the laughter from below grows louder, echoing through the house. You glance at the clock—almost 1 a.m. Deciding it’s time to call it a night, you snuff out the fire and finish the last sip of your wine. Heading upstairs to the bedroom, you strip out of your clothes, tossing them into the hamper, and slip on a silk purple nightdress. The plush sheets of your California King bed welcome you, and you soon drift off.

Hours later, the mattress dips beside you, pulling you from your sleep. You glance at the clock: 3:00 a.m. With a sigh, you feel Remy’s arm wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Rem—”

“Shhh, go back to sleep. I ain’t mean to wake you up, amour,” he whispers, kissing the back of your neck as he brushes your hair out of the way.

“You’re makin’ it kinda hard, sugar,” you reply, letting your Southern accent lace the words with frustration.

“Sorry, jus’ miss you… you didn’t come down to see me.”

“My bad. My book was really good,” you chuckle lightly, though deep down, your thoughts are elsewhere. You can’t shake the discomfort of knowing Rogue, the woman who broke Remy’s heart, is downstairs playing cards. But you decide to save that for when he’s sober. “Good night, Rem.”

You try to let go of the irritation, but it lingers as your meemaw’s words echo in your mind: *Never let the sun go down on your anger, darling.*

The sun is already creeping through the curtains when the sound of vomiting startles you awake. “Damn it,” you mutter, pulling yourself out of bed. In the bathroom, you find Remy pathetically bent over the toilet, retching out the remnants of the previous night.

“Baby? You okay?” you ask gently. He gives you a weak thumbs-up, still hunched over the toilet. You hurry to the kitchen, grab an ice pack, and place it on the back of his neck, holding his auburn hair out of the way. “That’s it, get it all out,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles.

After several minutes, you help him into a cool shower, washing his hair and handing him an aspirin along with an anti-nausea pill. Once he’s cleaned up, he brushes his teeth and joins you in the living room, squinting dramatically at the light as if it were torture.

As the two of you stand across from each other in the kitchen, you can feel the tension brewing. He knows something’s on your mind, but he waits, sensing the storm coming.

“Why was she here?” you finally ask, your voice tight with emotion.

“Who?” he responds, though there’s a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Rogue. Why… was… she… here?” you ask again, hugging your arms to your chest. A flicker of sadness crosses your face, but it quickly hardens into something more.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. The two of you had been married for about a year now, ever since Rogue left him at the altar. You had been his solace, the one who helped him pick up the pieces of his broken heart. But sometimes, it still felt like you were competing with a ghost.

“Y/N, please, not today,” he says softly.

“Not today?” you huff, your sadness turning into anger. “What the hell do you mean, ‘not today’?” Your voice takes on the sharp edge of your Georgia accent. “Remy, is there something you need to tell me? Did you sleep with her?”

He looks at you incredulously, as if the accusation is absurd. “Y/N, I’m not sleepin’ with her. Oh mon Dieu!” His frustration is palpable as he walks away, grabbing his shoes and the jacket hanging by the door.

“Remy, where are you going?” you shout after him, your anger boiling over.

“Out,” he says flatly, slamming the door behind him.

“Shit,” you mutter, slapping the door with your palm before storming off to the bedroom. You throw yourself onto the bed, eyes welling with tears. Clutching his pillow, you sob into it, your heart aching. *What is he not telling me?* The tears come in waves—anger, jealousy, sadness, all tumbling out uncontrollably. His scent lingers on the pillow, and for a fleeting moment, you consider tearing it to shreds. But you can’t. Despite everything, your heart still swells with love for him.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall into a fitful sleep, alone in the bed you share with him.

Hours later, the sound of the door creaking open pulls you from sleep. You hear it close softly behind him, the house trembling slightly. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s noon.

You wipe the tear stains from your cheeks and gather the strength to get out of bed. After rinsing your face, you make your way downstairs to find Remy sitting on the couch, whiskey in hand, soft jazz playing from the TV. His eyes are fixed on the dark screen.

“Rem, I’m s—”

He cuts you off, patting the spot beside him. “Sit,” he says quietly. His gaze burns into you as you take your place on the couch, pulling the blanket over yourself for warmth. The room feels cold—colder than usual.

“Mon amour, we gotta talk, like adults, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak, afraid the dam will break again if you do. He hands you a glass of wine that’s already sitting on the table, waiting for you.

“I can’t love you the way I loved Anna-Marie,” he says, his tone serious. The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body goes rigid, heat rising in your chest as you struggle to understand.

“W-what?” you manage to squeak, the words barely escaping your lips.

“We had somethin’ for years,” he continues.

Your eyes flick to the wedding band on his finger, then to yours, and back again. “Then why did you marry me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

“Because I love you,” he says, placing his hand on yours, trying to reassure you.

“This doesn’t make sense, Remy.” A tear slips down your cheek. “I’m so confused.”

“I can’t help my feelings, cherie. Feelings are feelings. I can’t change that.”

“Yes, you can,” you sob. “Remy, you’re the only man I’ve ever loved. I could never even *think* of having feelings for anyone from my past and then marrying you out of convenience.”

“Cherie, I didn’t marry you out of convenience,” he pleads.

“Then why did you marry me?” you ask, your voice cracking. The tears flow freely now, and your heart feels as if it’s being ripped apart.

Remy sees the pain in your swollen, red eyes. He knows he’s broken something precious.

“Y/N, I—”

“No, don’t you dare,” you interrupt, pointing a finger at him. You stand up abruptly, storming to the bathroom and slamming the door behind you. Sliding down against the door, you cry into your knees, your body trembling with the weight of it all.

*What does this mean for us?* you wonder. *How do we move forward? Can we even fix this?*

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Title: Having Relations

Pairing(s): Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Warning(s): SMUT!!! MINORS DNI! 18+ only!

One of my first smuts, please don’t hate 😭

______________

It was quiet throughout Wayne Manor, not a single sound could be heard through the home. Damian, Tim, Dick and Jason were hanging out with friends. Alfred was out for the weekend, and that left you and Bruce all alone.

Lately, the two of you have been too busy to spend time together, let alone it being ‘alone time’. That’s why you’re upstairs doing your hair and makeup. At this point, you look like you could be on the cover of Playboy. Your hair was curled in big curls, and your makeup looked like it had been done by a professional.

You fixed the last few strands of hair, and put on a little bit of Bruce’s favorite color of lipstick. You puckered at the mirror, and looked at yourself.

You were wearing a black push-up bra and a pair of black panties. Then you put on a silk robe to cover up with, until you went down to Bruce’s study. A black pair of loubotin heels tied the entire outfit together. As you were walking out the door, you remembered how much Bruce loved Ralph Lauren’s Romance perfume on you.

Quickly you sprayed it all over and dabbed it onto your wrists and neck. After you gave one last look in the mirror, you walked down the long stair case. Before you walked into the study, you adjusted your breasts so they were perky and held up just enough.

You peered around the doorway, and Bruce was sitting at his desk with his reading glasses on. He was sipping on some bourbon, and his attention was completely devoted to whatever paperwork he was looking at.

When Bruce didn’t notice you, you walked up behind him and laid your head on his back. “Hey, doll.” He said quietly, and you breathed in his scent.

“Need a refill?” You asked, and he held up the glass. “Yes. That would be great.” He replied, and you walked over to the liquor cabinet.

Slowly, you poured the liquid into the glass with ice. You walked back behind Bruce, and handed him the glass. He mumbled a quiet: ‘thank you’, and not once did he look back.

You walked over to the front of his desk and stood there, waiting for him to notice. Once he looked up, you smiled. Bruce took his glasses off, “Already going to bed, darling?” He asked, and you shook your head.

Biting your bottom lip, you untied the silk robe, and let it slide down your *almost* naked body. Bruce smiled, “What are you doing?” He asked, and you sat down on the couch in front of him.

You spread your legs just a little bit so he could a glimpse of what he had been missing. Bruce’s cheeks turned red, “The boys and Alfred are all going to be gone for a while. So I figured we could have fun.” You said as you played with your bra strap. “We could have fun like we use to, Mr. Wayne…”

After you said that, Bruce’s eyes darkened. He sat his glasses down, and stood up from his chair. Slowly, he made his way over to you, but you stood up to meet him halfway. His eyes scanned your entire body, “You’re so sexy, Mrs.Wayne.” He whispered as his hand caressed your cheek.

Bruce titled your jaw back so he could kiss your lips. His tongue grazed your bottom lip, and he grabbed your ass. When you let out a gasp, he pushed his tongue into your mouth. He brought his hand down to your neck, and his hand gently rested there.

His other hand cupped your cheek, and his thumb ran over your bottom lip. “You’re so gorgeous.” He whispered as he looked into your eyes.

“I need you Bruce.” You whispered back and his hands slowly dragged your bra straps down your shoulders, revealing your breasts.

Bruce gently pinched your nipple, and began kissing you from your chin, to your neck, and all the way down to the middle of your chest. He made his way down to your navel, and now he was where your panties were.

You breathing was shaky, and he looked up at you. “You smell so good, Y/N. Are you wearing that perfume I got you?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Good girl.” He whispered, as he pulled down your panties, revealing your wet pussy. The cold air made you gasp, and Bruce didn’t waste a minute. He had you pushed down onto to the couch and spread your legs, and placed them over his shoulders.

His fingers ran through your wet slit, “Already so wet for me, Mrs. Wayne.” His tongue delved straight in. Bruce sucked on your clit, making you jump, but his hands held down your hips.

His tongue lapped up all of your juices; he moaned as he ate you out. “So delicious, baby.” He said before going back to work.

You were so close to coming, but you pulled him up to your lips. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, but you were ready for him.

Next thing you knew, Bruce was on top of you. But you took control and flipped him over. He smiled at your dominance, “Are you taking control baby?” He asked.

All you could do was smile. You tore open his shirt revealing his toned abs; you sunk to your knees on the floor. You licked from his chest down to abs, leaving hickies on the way down.

Bruce began to unbuckle his pants, revealing the thick line from his cock. You were already drooling, at the outline of his cock, so you took it upon yourself to reach into his pants and pull it out.

Precum was already dripping from his tip. Before you could get your mouth around him, Bruce pulled you up, “No, I want to feel you.” He pulled you up onto his lap, and you aligned yourself with his thick cock.

You gently started to lower yourself onto him, and Bruce let out a groan. “You feel so good, baby.” After a few minutes of riding him, Bruce flipped you down on your stomach, and began to fuck you from behind.

He gave your ass a slap, leaving a red hand print. The sounds of skin slapping together filled the entire room. You moaned with every thrust, and it encouraged Bruce to keep going.

His thumb rubbed your clit, and you were a moaning mess. “I’m about to cum…” you whined and Bruce stopped.

“Not yet princess.” He said and he flipped you onto your back. “What a pretty pussy…” he said before pushing his cock back into you.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, your juices coated his cock, and you finally released all over him. Bruce groaned as he came all inside you, coating your insides.

Bruce pulled out of you, and grabbed the blanket lying across the couch. He covered your naked body and laid down next to you. “We need to make more time for this.” He said and you laughed.

“How about every weekend?” You asked, and he looked over and smiled at you. “Do you have it in you to go another round?” He asked, and you smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to his lips. “We better hurry before the-”

“Mom? Father? We’re home!” You heard Damian call out and you rested your head on Bruce’s shoulder. He caressed your shoulder, “It’s not too late to jump out the window and go get in the Benz, and go rent a hotel room.” He said, and footsteps approached the study.

“Boys, don’t come in—-”

Damian flung the door open, “Mom, Dad, Jason is a complete and total— why are you guys laying like that? Why are there clothes all over the floor? Are you guys okay?”

Jason walked in after him and covered his eyes, “OH MY GOD! DAMIAN, THEY’RE HAVING RELATIONS YOU MORON!”

Damian turned pale, “Oh…oh my…” he covered his eyes, and turned to run. But he ran into the wall next to the door, knocking himself out.

“Damian!” You sat up with the blanket wrapped around your body.

Jason grabbed Damian by the arm and dragged him out of the room. The door slammed behind them, and you looked down at Bruce. “I think we scarred Damian…” you whispered and Bruce chuckled.

“He needs to learn how to knock.”

_____

I hope you guys enjoyed this… this was one of my first times writing smut, so please don’t hate on it too much. ☠️😂

[chronically-ghosted]

the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour. 

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round. 

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known. 

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity. 

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it. 

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying. 

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.” 

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth. 

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.” 

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?” 

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.” 

Trish smacked him over the back of the head. 

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks. 

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious. 

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely. 

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled. 

“To Ned!” 

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?” 

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. ���One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick. 

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?” 

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat. 

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo. 

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap. 

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour. 

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening. 

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you. 

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement. 

At least, the only person you can see. 

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing. 

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked. 

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all. 

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze. 

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here! 

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap. 

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.” 

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint. 

Caravaggio, eat your heart out. 

“Max, what the fuck was that?” 

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall. 

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple. 

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth. 

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.” 

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips ��� resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise. 

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder. 

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you. 

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier. 

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth. 

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt. 

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose. 

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?” 

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.” 

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,” 

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits. 

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around. 

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down. 

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat. 

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt. 

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .” 

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you. 

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation. 

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.” 

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear. 

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this. 

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily. 

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,” 

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you. 

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning. 

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.” 

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs. 

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.” 

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours. 

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office. 

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be. 

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable. 

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin. 

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that. 

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks. 

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.” 

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.” 

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.” 

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours. 

It is dangerous, your feelings for him. 

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes. 

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door. 

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water. 

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches. 

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords. 

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term. 

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world. 

[l-lend]

hi ya!

'm just thinking about what might have happened if Fives escaped and was able to tell the Jedi about order 66. and how he volunteers to be the first person to undergo surgery to remove the chip.

could i request something fluff where he wakes up and his only request is to see you first?

Hey there friend,

I might have went a bit ham on this, so I'm happy to take another stab at Fives fluff for you if this doesn't measure up, just say the word. Also wanted to see if I could hit two birds with one stone since my bingo square for @clonexreaderbingo was "Tell me the truth". C'mon..it had to be Fives.

Psst...if you want the follow up, go check out "Reunited" by @photogirl894

Background art credit - Shiroi Learon

Blue divider by - @saradika

The door slid open to her abode. Silence swallowed her whole as she crossed the threshold into the dim lighting. White medic shoes abandoned by the door with a space left empty for a set of clone trooper's boots. He would have been on leave by now. His crooked grin would greet her as she would come home after a tough shift.

Now, her apartment became her torture chamber. The floor of the foyer still stung her knees. Her heart clenched at the memory. Her trooper would never come home. Every room a reminder of him. His favorite Coruscant liquor was still nestled in the freezer, hidden out of view by pints of ice cream that became a necessary purchase for lonely nights. His spare razor was still perched by the refresher sink; she would still hope to find those irksome dark hairs from him meticulously grooming that goatee. If she sat still on the couch long enough, she could almost hear his fake yawn that was usually followed by his arm snaking around her shoulders. The bed was often avoided. Too many memories were made between those sheets. Too much heart ache to untangle that left her sleepless. Resigned to her fate, she slouched down onto the couch in hopes of aching muscles and sore soles whisking her off to a dreamless slumber.

A sharp series of knocks ripped her from her thoughts. A deep sigh left her lips as she begrudgingly hefted herself to the door. A familiar face greeted her.

“Commander Tano,”

The togruta was silent taking in the medic's appearance for only a moment.

“I need you to follow me.”

A gruff swear left the medic's lips before she hustled to snatch up her shoes.

“Another load from the front lines or is it civvies with seppie-cough again?”

“You'll see.”

After a moment to lock up her abode, the medic followed after the young commander through the maze of buildings and into the nearby speeder. The pair were quiet as buildings and speeders alike streaked by as their transport weaved through the gridlock. However, the medic spoke up after the speeder passed the medical facility with no attempt at stopping.

“Where are we going?”

“The jedi wanted to see you about something.”

She frowned, “I don't think they'd be calling me if one of them was injured.”

“Let's just say you were specifically requested.”

The medic shook her head. Some things never change.

The speeder ride was uneventful as the pair were dropped off at the rendez-vous point. She followed her escort inside only to be greeted by the commander's master. Finally, someone who would hopefully not speak in cryptic tongues.

“General, please don't tell me.”

His smile barely curled his lips.

“I'm not injured, but I do need something from you.”

Her shoulders sagged, “Always happy to serve the GAR.”

With a jerk of his head, the women followed behind as they traveled deeper inside the building.

“We...made a bit of a discovery.”

“Are the seppies using bio weapons again?”

“We don't know, but we're getting to the bottom of things. I'm more doing this as a favor.”

They continued winding through identical halls until the jedi halted.

“This may be a shock, but take it slow.”

The door slid open and once they guided her inside, the medic finally glanced to what was reposed on a cot.

Her breath robbed from her as she crept closer. Bile rose from the pit of her stomach as she stared into a set of whiskey colored eyes.

“Hey babe.”

Her smile fell. What kind of sick joke was the galaxy playing on her? The lonely nights, the hollow pang in her chest as she would be forced to stare at the same face day in day out. Tears blurred her eyes.

“Fives...?”

His expression softened as he closed the distance. A hand gingerly taking one of hers.

“Re..Rex said you were...” She no longer trusted her voice as it pitched towards a sob.

“I know, babe. Rex doesn't know.”

“We need Fives to lay low while the Jedi council deals with some matters. There's a place in the Outer Rim where he can be safe until the senate needs him.” Anakin spoke up.

Another stream of tears graced her cheeks, “So that's it? You drop off and come back only to tell me you're leaving?”

The clone's hands moved up her arms gently bringing her into his embrace.

“No, baby. It's not like that.”

Her hands met his chest as she pushed gaining distance from him. Hands shaking as she attempted to glare through tears.

“Then tell me the truth.” She spat, “Tell me why I shouldn't walk out that door and pretend we never met.”

His eyes slid closed and he took a breath. He opened them after a moment stealing a glance to the jedi general before returning to his lover.

“I don't know if you'll believe me.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I hardly believe it.”

“Try me.”

He held his hands up, “Alright,” His lips formed a line for a moment, “When they made us, the Kaminoans put these chips in us, and...they make us do things. And those things aren't always good.”

“Does that mean you still have it? The uh...chip?”

“I found out about it after...well, after Tup, but mine's out.” He reached up to brush a bandage plastered against his temple.

“and...but what does that have to do with the council?”

“They don't know who had the chips put in, and they're aiming to find out.”

“and with everyone thinking you're dead..”

“No one would be looking for me.”

She sighed, “Well, you're right. That's pretty farfetched.”

He shrugged with the hint of a smile, “Told ya.”

“So you're off to the Outer Rim..”

His hands reached out for hers holding them between each of his, “Shuttle's got room for one more.”

The statement hung in the room drowning out everything else. Everything slid into place. A promise long forgotten of a quiet life together with the war behind them.

Her fingers squeezed around his as her pulse quickened.

“When do we leave?”

@locitapurplepink @rain-on-kamino @writing-positivelyexisting @burningfieldof-clover @padawancat97 @ahsokastechie

[violetsaffron5]

Infinity

| Ao3 | Discord 18+ | Series Masterlist | Taglist | Chapter 9 |

8 | Mandrills

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Summary:

Spending some quality time with Geto

words: 4031

It’s not even been a week and you find yourself in yet another bar. This one is quieter, classier than the last. The lights are dim and the music playing is low, just loud enough to hear amidst the conversation happening between friends and lovers.

You’re sitting at the bar sipping on your cocktail, looking over the room, watching as couples laugh and lean into one another, trying to make out what’s being said from the low rumble filling the small space.

You’re wearing a floor length black Versace dress paired with a dainty diamond necklace; this ensemble costs more than a year’s rent. It’s certainly not what you expected to be doing or wearing on a Thursday night.

No, tonight you planned on staying in after having spent the last few nights hanging out with Shoko and Satoru. Rest and relaxation. You were looking forward to it.

That is until Geto showed up at your door unannounced, dress bag and shoes in hand telling you to get changed and you two were going out for some quality time. Whatever that means. 

So, you’re here. Sitting awkwardly next to the man in question who has his raven hair pulled all the way back into a neat bun, a suit you’re sure is just as expensive as your dress, drinking his own cocktail.

“So… what are we doing here?” Geto wouldn’t say where you were going, and you’re not familiar enough with Tokyo to even know if you’re still in the city, though you’d venture to guess probably not since it took an hour to get to this location.

“Just wanted to have a little chat among other things.”

“Ok, well, I’m here,” you chuckle awkwardly, “not sure why we couldn’t have hung out at my place or even at the -”

“Do you think you can be monogamous with your… abilities?” Suguru asks, swirling the dark liquor in his glass around the large round ice cube.

You’re taken back by his sudden line of questioning. This is something you would expect Shoko or Utahime to ask, but not Geto. He’s always been kind, albeit fairly quiet when you’re around.

“Uhh, yeah. I think so. I mean, it hasn’t really been a problem so far.”

Sure there have been wants, urges, wondering how someone’s hands would feel on your body when you go out, but it hasn’t been anything more than that. Satoru has helped keep your hunger in check which helps greatly minimize these desires, keeps things less overwhelming.

“Mm. Good point,” he begins, side eyeing you, “when Satoru tells you he’s meeting with the higher ups, he’s really meeting with other women to hookup. The higher ups only meet a few times a year or when anything interesting comes up. Like you.”

You shake your head and blink several times, trying to take in everything he just told you. “Um. Okay, thanks… I guess.” Clenching your jaw, you take another sip of your drink, the weight of what Suguru just said causing a heavy lump to form in the center of your chest. 

“Awe, don’t be sad.” He coos after a few moments, giving a weak smile, “there was never a chance he was going to settle down, let alone with someone who’s barely even human.”

“I’m not sad,” you defend, “I’m just…”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Maybe it’s all true and you’ve been reading a little too much into what’s been going on between you and Satoru. He’s flirty, “nice to everyone,” as Shoko put it once. It’s not like you’re expecting a commitment from him, at the end of the day, he is just helping you out, but honesty would be nice.

“You’ll never be more than a good fuck. That’s just how he operates.” You’re not looking at Suguru, but you can hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Ok, Geto. I got it. Thanks.” You snap at him.

A lot of it is mindless self-indulgent sex; Satoru getting the rush of adrenaline when you siphon his energy, you being able to feed without waking up next to a cold body. It’s addicting, he’s addicting - the endless amounts of stamina on nights that never seem to end, and you don’t want them to; the way his body feels pressed against your own as he’s pounding into you so hard you’re convinced he’s trying to split you in half, and how after he’s kissing you tenderly, sweetly, afterward telling you how beautiful you look, how amazing you are.

There’s also an undeniable chemistry shared between the two of you. Sure, he might not tell you the ins and outs of his life, but you do know he’s creative, reliable, makes you laugh more than you ever have before, annoys you more than anyone ever has before. But you don’t mind, not really.

Geto isn’t giving you a lot of time to dwell on it before he’s standing, motioning for you to take his arm. You give a weak smile, placing your drink on the counter, looping your arm through his wondering where you’re off to now.

He leads you down a hall you’re sure you’re not allowed to be in, taking you down a flight of stairs to a basement. The hall is dark, dingy and dirty, very different from the pristine and clean environment you were just in.

“We’re here for a mission,” Geto says quietly before reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Follow my lead.”

“What is the largest monkey in the world?” A voice asks from behind a closed door, and you’re taken aback by the odd line of questioning presented to you, yet again.

“Mandrills.” Geto replies easily through an eyeroll, like he doesn’t quite believe that answer.

The door clicks, having been unlocked before opening, allowing the two of you in, down another dimly lit corridor. 

“If we’re on a mission, why are we in such expensive clothes? I mean, won’t this get ruined?”

Suguru stops, just short of another door at the end of the hall, turning to face you. “There’s a dress code for places like this. I can’t have you coming in here wearing,” he stops to look you up and down, a scowl on his face, “what you normally wear.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You seethe, wondering just what kind of mission this could be and what it entails, and why he’s choosing to be such a dick to you tonight.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter before him. And whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Are we… playing poker?” You ask incredulously.

“You are playing blackjack, and you need to win so I have a shot at collecting a cursed tool.” He’s whispering, keeping his voice down so the others around don’t hear as the two of you walk around between the tables that had been set up for tonight.

You’re not replying to him, taking in the words he’s said but not really understanding why you have to play a part in this little mission. 

Each table is set up with a dealer, getting the tables ready for guests to sit at, all wearing tuxes. The other guests, you presume, are all dressed to the nines - just as you are - showcasing their wealth by flaunting top of the line name brand attire and jewelry. The room is small, and even though there are less people down here than upstairs, it sounds just as loud, the low murmur of everyone talking at one time.

Geto sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose, stopping in a little vacant section of the room, “the pet,” you raise an eyebrow as he points to you, “will be playing the first round. If the pet wins, then their master gets to move onto the second round. We both need to win in order to get our hands on the cursed tool.”

“So, it’s some sort of fucked up blackmarket.”

“No cursed energy or abilities allowed either, so you need to be discreet. No pulling the shit you did at the club when Satoru and Nanami were there and making it obvious.”

A man walks over, tall, skinny, in a suit that doesn’t look like anything special, but likely costs more than your dress and asks for your name. He gives a kind smile, offering his hand to lead you to the table you’re set to play the game at.

“One more thing,” Suguru stops you before you can take the man's hand and walk away, “the higher ups have asked for this mission to remain… quiet. So no speaking about it with anyone.” You nod your head before pursing your lips.

As you walk away you could swear you heard Geto quietly say, “and make sure you win. Satoru would kill me if you get sold off.” You furrow your brows turning back to the raven haired man mouthing “what the fuck?” before he shrugs and walks off, leaving you to your own devices.

You’re seated between two men, who are also set to play against you. You give them a warm smile and wave, as they smile back to you. They seem nice enough. It’s just a game of blackjack afterall, simple, easy.

One where people are sold off at the end. No big deal at all.

The cards are shuffled in front of you as the dealer explains that only one of you will be the winner, but of course there’s the possibility of all three of you losing, and in that case nobody will move forward into the next round. And just for them to add a little curve and anxiety to the mix, the only way to lose is to go over 21, anyone under will remain in the game until either everyone has gone over or a clear winner has been indicated.

There’s not much you can do here in terms of your abilities, you tried to learn to count cards when you were younger, living on your own, but you never quite got the hang of it, so you’re really truly banking on good luck.

“So, uh, what’s the prize tonight?” You ask curiously since Geto didn’t really give too much information.

Your opponents give a quizzical look before one of them says, “wow, you haven’t been told much, have you?”

You shake your head, it’s the truth, you’re working off minimal details, “no. We play poker at home, and I’m pretty good at it. He thought I’d be beneficial with his… endeavors tonight.”  A lie, but they don’t need to know that.

“It’s a three piece staff, called Playful Cloud.” You nod your head, never heard of it, but it must be special if the higher ups are looking to add it to the schools collection.

The dealer has laid out all the cards, the man to your right passes his turn. You have 15 and take the risk to hit, as does the man to your left. After the additional cards have been dealt, you’re at 18, and choose to pass, not wanting to risk going over, while the man to your left hits again.

After those cards have been dealt, everyone shows their hand; the dealer is at 22, the man on the left is at 24, to the right, 20, and you’re at 18. One person out, a slight weight has been lifted. Just you and the other man remaining now.

Returning your cards, the dealer shuffles again before passing two to each of you once again. You’re only at 5, so you hit again, the man to your right does the same. This happens for a few more turns, each of the card numbers you’re getting are low, bringing your current total to 12.

Humming to yourself, you decide to try something, to see if you can figure out where he stands. Trailing a finger on the fabric of the suit the man next to you is wearing, feeling the soft, smooth silky fabric under your index finger, and leaning in just slightly closer to him.

“You know,” your voice is slow, sultry, “I really do love a man in a suit.”

He side-eyes you with a grin, just before your finger touches the skin of his neck he answers, “me too,” and gives a wink. You smile back, a slight pout on your lips before returning to your seat normally, asking the dealer to hit again. You could attempt to use your powers on him, but it’s best to not draw attention, like Geto pointed out earlier, so you leave it for now.

Neither the dealer nor your opponent take a card this time; you’re not entirely sure you want to flip over the card on the table you were just given, a knot forming in your stomach. You don’t look at the card, too nervous about the way this could end - you’ll just have to believe in the heart of the cards, or whatever the saying is.

You nod and everyone reveals their hands; 18, 23, 27.

You sigh a breath of relief, not really sure if what Suguru said was true, that you’d be sold off, but you sure as hell didn’t want to fuck around and find out when you’re attending a very illegal underground blackjack game as is. You stand on shaky legs, clenching and unclenching your fists, just now noticing how sweaty they had gotten during that encounter, how nervous you were, especially at the end.

The two men you were playing with tell you congratulations and stay behind, you don’t look back. You don’t want to even think about the consequences of them losing.

You’re led to a locker room where Suguru stands shirtless, only in his black dress pants, removing the belt around his waist. He doesn’t look up when you walk in, barely acknowledges your presence.

You look him over, shoulders slightly more muscular and broad than Satoru’s, with a dragon tattoo covering his back with the tail ending at the wrist of his right hand. It’s very well done, traditional, black and white aside from the purple eyes. He’s just as toned and defined as Satoru, just as attractive. You clear your throat and swallow thickly in an attempt to distract yourself.

“Are the “pets” really going to be sold, or were you just saying that?” You take a seat at the bench across from him, crossing your legs and folding your arms over your chest, watching as he neatly folds his shirt and rolls his belt before placing them inside one of the lockers.

“Not sure. It’s what I heard. Thought it might give you a little push to win.”

He’s sitting on the bench across from you, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck as he explains what’s going to happen next. He’s going to be bare-knuckle fighting in cage matches, this could go on all night but he needs you to manipulate the rounds, get him in sooner, less fights. And when it’s all said and done, you need to leave quickly before your abilities wear off and anyone suspects the two of you of foul play. At least not before he gets the weapon in his hands.

He gives you a gentle smile, one you’ve seen too many times from him. And all the sudden it looks more fake than it ever has before. Suguru has been incredibly hot and cold to you tonight, more than you’ve ever seen and you’re wondering if he’s insane. Satoru can be bad, going from jovial to serious in the blink of an eye but this is beyond that. This is something else.

You hum, giving a weak smile - how are you supposed to respond to something like aside from being pissed off that he lied to you. That this whole night has been nothing but a lie.

It doesn’t matter, because you’re following him out of the small locker room into another equally small room with a wire cage set up in the middle. The space is filled to the brim with people, more than you’ve seen in any bar or club you’ve ever been to. It’s louder in here, people with drinks in their hands, being rowdy, boisterous laughter and yelling coming from all directions.

Suguru points in the general direction of where you’ll find the person in charge of organizing the bouts - you have a job to do, so you do your best to push down all the stress and anxiety you were just feeling a moment prior, pushing and squeezing your way past people until you reach your destination.

There’s a lone man sitting at a table organizing several names in front of him, there’s likely a method to his madness - luckily for you, he’s doing it rather old school, with a whiteboard that has brackets drawn onto it, and he’ll tape the names in each space to show everyone’s position and who they’ll be fighting next.

From the distance you’re at, you can barely make out Suguru’s name on his list, towards the bottom, likely because the two of you just showed up to compete not that long ago.

“Hi,” you’re yelling, making your presence known in the sea of people you’re in. He turns to you, looking you quickly up and down, returning the smile before going to place some of the names on the board.

“What’s your name?” You’re watching as he adds the names to each of the brackets, Suguru indeed being one of the last, with several rounds set to go before him.

The man answers, you’re not really listening, watching from the corner of your eye as he takes a seat. With his back turned, you grab Suguru’s name, and the second name from the second set of brackets and switch them quickly, trying not to make what you just did totally obvious to anyone.

He doesn’t seem to notice, instead you sit next to him as he makes small talk, asks if you’ve been here before, done anything like this in the past. All of your answers are lies, trying to make yourself seem as seasoned as possible.

It doesn’t take long for the first round to get started. It’s two men, both you’re unfamiliar with, in the cage with a referee. When they start, you opt to not pay much attention to them, after all, you’ve seen people throw plenty of punches over the last few months, thrown plenty yourself when training and fighting curses.

You continue to talk to the man, doing your best to keep his attention on you. It doesn’t take a lot, he’s leaning into you, answering your silly little questions, telling you the ins and outs of his job.

And then it’s Suguru’s turn. You do watch this fight, having never seen him in action before. He stands tall, taller than his opponent but only by a few inches, more muscular too. If he wasn’t being such an ass tonight, you’d say he looks like an angel with the way the dim light is cascading over his muscles, highlighting his features in just the right way, showing all the sharp edges.

Suguru’s fist immediately cracks the jaw of his opponent - you could hear it as it happened, even over the crowd. They’re both throwing punches, but Suguru is easily able to dodge, bouncing from toe to toe as he absolutely pummels his opponent into the floor. For a brief second, you’re not even sure his opponent is even alive until someone else is helping him stand, removing him from the cage as Suguru watches with a cat-like grin that matches his eyes.

The matches all go quickly, you’re laughing with the man who is organizing the names, channeling your energy into him, persuading where to put names.

He listens, leaning into your touch every time you make contact with him. Your annoyance at Suguru and the mission grows more and more each round as you keep using your powers on the poor soul sitting next to you, more and more annoyed with each time he leans over, hands on your thigh trying to make a move. You place a finger to his lips each time, telling him “not now,” hoping he doesn’t realize that time will never come.

It’s the final round, finally. The matches went by quickly, though it still took several hours. You’ve heard enough bones crunching, skulls being knocked into the mat, teeth shatter, blood and spit spilling everywhere to be ready to call it a night.

Suguru is in the ring again, laughing like a maniac as he dips and dodges his opponent’s punches and kicks. He’s received several across his body and to his face during his matches, his lip bloodied and jaw swollen. He’ll need to go see Shoko no doubt in order to heal up.

You briefly wonder what kinds of questions she would ask about his wounds, or if these are something she’s used to seeing him with.

You’re not left wondering for long, because you hear the referee blow his whistle, yelling something about “illegal” moves while pulling the two men off of each other. Watching intently, it appears the referee is conferring with several others, likely trying to decide how to call the match.

You’re not sure what this was called for, but it was very likely because of Suguru, judging by the smug grin he has plastered on his face as he eyes you walking over to the cage, near the referee waiting for him to finish his current conversation.

When he’s done, you’re reaching your hand into the cage, caressing the ankle of the referee before he has a chance to make the call, he looks down to you, furrowed eyebrows, curious as to what you could want. Using your index finger, you motion for him to bend down, and of course he does, you’ve been using your energy on him from the moment you touched him.

“I think Suguru won this round, don’t you think so too?” Your voice is hardly a whisper, breath caressing the shell of his ear. He looks to you, eyes wide and nods his head as you bite your lip and whisper a barely audible “yeah.”

The man stands, moving towards the center of the ring where Suguru and his opponent stand bloodied, waiting on the results of the match.

“And the winner is… Suguru!” The crowd has mixed emotions, where half of them seem to erupt in cheers, the other half seem to be booing at the announcement. 

You don’t wait around to see Suguru’s reactions, you’ve turned on your heel, looking to make a quick getaway before a certain hot and horny man comes to find you, either pissed you used your abilities when it was against the rules or looking to have a good time that you’re really not all that interested in.

You leave, getting in the nearest cab you could find. Fuck Geto, fuck this mission. He can do all of the damn paperwork, especially if it’s as secretive as he claims it needs to stay.

Instead, you’re dialing Satoru’s number, annoyed and angry at Suguru for putting you in these positions tonight. You don’t expect Satoru to do anything about it - it’s already happened, but you need to vent and maybe even relieve some stress - something Satoru is very good at helping you accomplish, but he doesn’t answer. As soon as you hang up the call, a text comes through.

Satoru: Can’t talk, about to meet with the higher ups

A wry chuckle leaves your lips after reading his message. It’s well past midnight, there’s no way those old fuckers are meeting at this time of night.

Taking a deep breath you lay your head on the back of the seat as the driver takes you home. You let your mind wander, to what Geto said at the beginning of the night, everything he said about Satoru. And it hurts more than it should, more than you want it to, so you decide maybe it’s for the best if you don’t tell Satoru about tonight after all.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @q-the-rockaholic @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @greenlovers @naorizenin @a1hina @plants-w0rld

[fullfledgedemo]

Chapter 1 / Part 4 (final)

Pairing: Rafe cameron x OC / JJ maybank x OC / JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drugs, typical obx stuff; (remind me if I forget something)

Summary: Skyla is JJ's older sister. Growing up together they were inseparable. A short while after going to school she met her best friend Kayla. She would convince Kay to join her and the pogues. But Skyla would be strongly invested to make her dream of going to art school come true, that she didn't notice her best friend totally falling for her brother. On the road to her dream she accidentally crosses paths with the Kook prince himself. Maybe he's not that bad after all?

Word count: 2.6K

AN: This is the last part of chapter 1, next chapter will be about Kayla and her adventure with the pogues! ~

(Cameron Estate) 

After I got ready at Nina’s house, she kindly drove me to the party. As we parked in front of the giant villa she shrieked at me and shaked my body from excitement.

“Oh my god, you're going to a freaking Cameron party!?”, she squealed.

I sighed and looked at her seriously “Don't tell anyone about that ok?”.

“Your secret is safe with me”, she cheered.

Getting out of the car I watched her drive away. As I took in the view in front of me I gulped.

I'm really doing this, I thought to myself. The night was a little too chilly for the dress I was wearing, so I pulled my cardigan tighter, shivering. 

I walked up the long driveway, noticing the crazy amount of people who were everywhere. As I watched some girls, already totally wrecked, hitting on some guys.

I got snapped out of my observation by Kelce shouting at me. “Eeey it's you!”, he cheered. Walking towards me, you could see that he was also pretty drunk. 

“Yeah I made it”, I nervously chuckled. Kelce noticed my eyes scanning the crowd and grinned.

“Yoo Rafe, your girl is here!”. My face flushed red at the sudden nickname. He threw an arm around my shoulders laughing.

But before Kelce could make me even more uncomfortable, I saw Rafe making his way through the crowd inside the house and joining us at the front.

Kelce made a gesture, presenting me like a gift to Rafe. But Rafe only sighed and pushed Kelce back inside.

“I think you had enough, bro”, he grumbled and turned back to me again. “Sorry, he is annoying when he gets drunk”, Rafe apologised, smiling at me and pushing some hair out of his face.

I grinned at him, being relieved that he was here now. One second longer with Kelce made me want to bounce in an instance. “Some people can't control their liquor”, I laughed.

He let his gaze drift over me before continuing. “I'm glad you made it, you.. look stunning”, Rafe smirked, looking into my eyes. I felt my heart beating faster and my cheeks heating up again. 

He really was making me nervous. “Thanks”, I stammered, I couldn't get myself to say more.

Rafe carefully laid his hand on my back and smiled. “Let's get you a drink”. I smiled back at him, noticing the warmth of his hand on my back.

“That would be nice”, I added ushering the butterflies in my stomach.

He guided me through the house, in the back where a giant pool was located. I felt people staring at me the whole time until we arrived at the small bar. Rafe gestured to me to sit down.

“What do you want?”, he asked me, leaning against the bar top not losing eye contact with me. I was a little abashed by his piercing gaze, but did my best to act casual.

“Maybe a gin tonic?”, I answered, resting my head on my hand and looking him back into his eyes. He looked slightly surprised by my action but was soon to grin back at me.

“One gin tonic and whiskey on ice”, he ordered to the barkeeper. As our drinks were ready he swiftly looked around.

“You want to go upstairs? It's a little more quiet there”, Rafe suggested. For a second I considered the fact that I actually didn't know him too well, nor anyone who was attending this party. 

He must've noticed my uncertainty so he quickly added “Just if you like.. the terrace is pretty chill tho”. I looked at him as he took a sip of his drink.

At this point in my life I had kind of good skills reading people. I wasn't right every single time but at least nearly. I just felt that he wouldn't have bad intentions towards me. So I agreed and we made our way up. 

It was in fact really nice up here and a lot more quiet. Just a few people were around, Kelce and Topper being one of them. As soon as they saw Rafe with me they asked us to join them.

Rafe looked at me apologetically, but I assured him it was alright. Further through the night I noted that Topper and Kelce were pretty nice. If you ignored the Kook-outburst from time to time, bragging about some high end gadgets.

Some time and drinks later, Kelce disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a grin on his face. “Got some”, he pulled out a small bag with some white powder in it.

Rafe must've noticed me staring at it a little so he softly put his hand on my arm. “You're alright.. with this?”, he leaned over to look me in the face.

It didn't look at it like that because I was weirded out or something. It was because I thought that I had my shit together.

But seeing the bag was enough to give me a feeling that my nose was burning. “Yeah of course, it's your stuff”, I blurted out laughing, feeling a bit dumb for staring. 

“I knew you were cool”, Kelce grinned at me, putting out some lines. Rafe gazed at me with his stunning face.

As Kelce put out some for everyone he asked “You wanna try or?”. Topper smiled at me.

“You don't need to if you don't want to”, he assured me. Looking at the coke laid out in front of us I gulped. Without second thought I told myself, screw it.

“Sure it's been a while though”, I said, pressing my lips together. Rafe grinned and peered at me a little surprised. “You did coke before?”, he asked.

A little flustered I put a strain of hair behind my ear. “Yeah.. I know this guy.. Barry”, I said shrugging, taking the bill which was formed into a small tube out of Kelce’s hands. I wasn't proud that I knew this psycho, but he had the best stuff in town.

“Wait, you know Barry?”, Rafe laughed and shaked his head. He didn't seemed to bumped about it. Watching me putting the tube up to my nose.

“Who doesn't”, Kelce added snickering.

Snorting the powder up my nose a burning sensation made itself present. I should've been pissed at myself but really I wasn't.

Looking at my drink I noticed it being empty. I glanced at Rafe who had some liquor left in his glass.

“May I take a sip from your drink?”, I asked without thinking too much and started giggling. Rafe smiled at me, handing me his drink.

“Sure Blondie”, he cooed and suddenly I needed to focus on drinking or I might have spilled some. 

Soon I felt the effect of the drug, being highly confident of myself and also doped up.

This led to me drinking a lot more than I intended to. A little while later Topper and Kelce were about to leave. Because Kelce wanted to hook up with some girls, but Topper insisted on seeing Rafe’s sister Sarah.

“She texted me that she was down at the beach with some of her friends”, Topper explained, while Kelce snorted.

“You totally whipped dude”.

Topper lightly shoved him and laughed “At least I have a girlfriend”.

As the two left, I noticed Rafe and I were the only ones left at the terrace. This place was so extravagant, I never was at a house this big.

I stood up leaning on the railing, taking in the view. Turning around I looked at Rafe and said “You have a sister?”.

He slightly frowned at the thought and snickered “Two actually, both younger than me”.

“Geez, must be annoying”, I chuckled, but quickly stopped because I didn't know the relationship he had with them.

“Sorry.. I”, I started but Rafe was quick to usher me.

“No really it is pretty annoying”, he laughed, joining me at the railing. I felt a tingling in my stomach and smiled to myself. Turning around again I got the urge to sit on the railing, so I pushed myself up and sat down on it.

Rafe watched me doing so and reflexively put out his hands. “Whoa you might want to be careful there”, he chuckled while holding my arm.

I blushed a little at his action and grinned. “I'm alright, not the type to lose balance”, but at the time I said that I wobbled a little, scaring the shit out of me.

Only then I noticed I was holding on to Rafe in front of me. He broadly smiled at me and carefully put his arms around my back for support.

“I don't want a cutie to fall down my ledge”, he laughed gazing at me. Did he just call me cute? My cheeks felt burning hot right now.

A little flustered, I looked down and bit my lip. Only when I looked back up at Rafe I noticed how close we actually were.

He glanced at my lips and heat was radiating through my whole body.

The urge to kiss his lips was too irresistible. 

We both leaned in, inches away from each other. I could practically feel his breath on my lips. He smelled like whiskey and cologne.

As his lips were about to settle on mine, we were broken apart from a loud noise inside the house and angry shouting. Rafe turned his head around alarmed.

“What is going on?”, I asked. A little uneasy I glided down from the ledge while Rafe made sure I landed safely on the ground. He walked over to the glass door, getting a better look of the situation.

“Fuck.. it's my Dad”, he panicked and ran his hands wildly through his hair. My eyes widened, this couldn't be good. Ward Cameron could be really intimidating at times.

“Stay here, okay?”, he ordered me and I nervously shaked my head. Rafe went inside and I heard his Dad approaching. It didn't take long for them to fight with each other on a volume which made goosebumps creep up on my back.

I couldn't understand the whole conversation they had so I silently went to stand beside the glass door. “How many times I have to tell you that I don't want such people on my property!?”, Ward yelled at his son.

“I know, I know I… I’m sorry dad! “, I heard rafe declare to him. From the glimpse of my eye I glanced at the coffee table we sat around before and spotted the bag of coke.

Fuck not good not good, I thought to myself.

Cautiously I sneaked over to the table, fumbling around the table to grab the bag. “Everyone needs to leave now!”, Ward yelled.

As I was about to grab the bag his eyes crossed mine. “You too!”, he exclaimed and started to walk into my direction. Rafe tried to calm him down, following hastily.

I quickly shoved the bag into the sleeve of my cardigan. Frightened I looked Ward Cameron into the eyes as he stood now in front of me. 

But before anything could happen, Rafe pushed himself in between the two of us. “I take her down, no problem”, he quickly said, glancing nervously at his dad who was watching me with a piercing glare.

“Fine”, Ward finally said, after what felt like an eternity. Rafe took my hand and hastily went downstairs with me. I gulped, that was so fucking close.

As Rafe brought me outside he let out a deep sigh. “I'm so sorry Sky… I didn't want you to see that”, he stuttered, looking at me embarrassed.

I noticed that he still didn't let go of my hand, which made my heart only race more. “It's alright Rafe, I fight with my Dad all the time”, I assured him.

Smiling softly at him, I gave his hand a light squeeze. His hands felt warm and gave me a feeling of protection.

His features softened as he looked at me and carefully tucked a loose hair strain behind my ear.

“I really want to give you a ride home.. but I need to take care of this right now”, he sighed, looking back at the entrance door.

I didn't know he could be this sweet, it made my heart melt. “It's okay I'll give my friend a call”, I said.

He watched me with a concerned look on his face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”, I answered. I really didn't want to go right now, but I hoped that this wasn't the last time. “I'll text you when I get home?”, I asked, a little shy.

Rafe grinned at me “You better be doing that cutie”.

I laughed at his statement, wishing this night would never end.

Hearing Ward screaming from inside, Rafe quickly added “I need to go now.. sorry”.

Without thinking twice I leaned forward, standing on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Rafe didn't expect that and grinned to himself. “See you Blondie”, he cooed as we let go of each other's hands and he started to walk back inside.

“See you”, I smiled and made my way down the driveway. Calling Nina, she picked me up and we returned to her place. 

The day after was kind of rubbish. I still felt the coming down of the coke from yesterday and wished I didn't do what I did.

(home is where you are)

As Nina brought me back home I couldn't overhear my dad's loud screaming and wasn't sure if I should just turn around and leave.

But I didn't.

I opened the front door entering our messy living room and sighed.

There were laying empty liquor bottles everywhere and the smell of cold cigarette smoke made me sick to my stomach.

I carefully made my way to the back porch, watching my dad yell at my brother for whatever reason. “I'm done with your scum ass”, he growled at JJ.

My brother noticed me standing in the doorframe and gestured for me to not interfere.

Roughly flushing down some beer, my dad took another step forward and hit my brother in the face. JJ tumbled to the side holding his face.

I just stood there, scared and started crying silently. I didn't know what to do, fear holding me in my place and making my whole body go stiff.

JJ glanced at me with his soft eyes, I knew that look. The look of don't come near, it's not safe. As soon as my dad took off, I ran to JJ hugging him tight.

We stayed like this for what felt like hours. Pulling back I softly stroked his cheek where he was hit before. “What was it this time”, I asked in a hushed voice, tears running down my face.

My brother took my hand which was resting on his face and pressed it slightly. “About… about you”, he whispered, looking at me with pain in his eyes.

I gulped and tried not to break out in agony again. I hugged him tightly and cried into his shoulder. “Shh it's ok”, he ushered me, stroking my head softly.

“A letter came from the university”, he explained. I leaned back, looking at him in surprise. JJ smiled softly, guiding me back inside the living room.

I dried of my tear stained face with my arm and watched my brother shuffle through the mail on the coffee table. He took out a little scrunched up letter and handed it to me.

“Dad opened it.. and was pissed off”, he murmured, pressing his lips together. Taking the letter from him, I got nervous.

I pulled out the letter and flattened it a little so I could read it. For the first time in like forever, I felt relieved and scared at the same time.

Clasping a hand over my mouth I started crying again. “I.. got accepted”, I stuttered, looking at my brother completely baffled.

He went over to me and hugged me. “Congrats sis”, he chuckled.

At that time I didn't knew that my whole world was about to change ~

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

AN: chapter 2 is in work ~

@madelynie @runningfrom2am

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Yes. I have a thing for Professor Reiner. Yes, I have a thing for gray khakis. Yes, I have a thing for sleeping Reiner. I tried and tried and fucking tried to read this as well as I could. But it got to the point where I literally could NOT bring myself to read it again. So if there are any awful grammatical or spelling errors, lmk.

C/W ::: Some weird fucking dynamics going on here. y/n crying, Reiner in power position, then he's calling her Miss, Good Girl etc., somno stuff, oral {f 2 m} {m 2 f}, unprotected wall/door sex, oral again w/cum eating. MDNI, pls.

WC ::: 5334k

You find yourself going to your psychology professor's office. It's well after office hours but you stand outside of where he is and listen to him for a while. He doesn't do anything but let out the occasional groan when he stretches and takes a sip of his amber colored liquor. The ice clinks in the crystal tumbler. It sounds so pretty.

You run your fingers over his name engraved on a small piece of metal that's been attached to the door:

Professor Reiner Braun, PsyD Psychology/Sociology

It looks so beautiful to your teary eyes.

You don't know why you went to him. But you're regretting your choice. Because he told you one time, "If you ever need help with anything, don't hesitate to come by my office. If I'm there, we can talk. Ok?" His smile was so wholesome. You wanted to believe that he meant anything, but now, you feel like you should know better than that. You've had such a crush on him for so long. It had gotten to the point where you were starting to see little things that he does and romanticize them.

You were starting to believe that when he straightened up his hair, his eyebrows, his goatee, rolled up his sleeves, adjusted his pants ... you were starting to believe that he was doing all of that for you. Not simply because he felt the need to fix something on his person. And though he never looked at you directly for any extended period of time, he would still check in with you on occasion.

That's something, right?

Right??

He heard the soft, yet desperate knocking on his door and the small sobs through your hiccups. It was hard to see through the door, but he could at least make out a person's figure on the other side. The small voice in the back of his head told him not to get involved in whatever this was. Whoever you were, would leave eventually. If only he could stay quiet. Maybe you, whoever you were, wouldn't know he was in there, sipping his day away. But the persistent knocking and sniffing, it started to get to him and he decided he can't exactly leave you out in the hallway to work through whatever troubles you're having.

You see him stand up from his desk through the thick chiseled glass and head over to you. Your heart skipped a few beats as his large frame got closer and closer.

The door cracked open and he peered out of the tiny space. Clearing his throat before he said anything, "Ye-yes?"

His voice sounds like God's.

"Professor Brau-Braun?" You tried pulling on the door to open it up a little more but he wouldn't give up his grip on the knob. "Can I, can I come in? Please?" You weren't above begging.

"I uh, I'm not having office hours right now. It's not a good idea for you to be here. But can I schedule some time for you tomorrow?" He was slurring his words. More than a little, too.

"I really feel like this can't wait until tomorrow, Professor. Please? Please can't I come in and sit for a while? Hm?"

He scoffed and pinched the space between his eyes at the top of his nose. "No - no. I can't right now. I just ... it's a bad time." The door was still held firm in his grip. You know this because you tried to open it again.

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt and locked eyes with him. "Professor, I need ... to come in."

His eyes were so piercing, but you couldn't look away. "You don't need ... to do anything."

You didn't even know what you were going to say to him once you got inside his office. But you were desperate and he was your last chance. You couldn't go home. And you couldn't go to your best friend's house. She would just tell you to suck it up.

You had no one else.

And you couldn't deal with it anymore.

"Professor, I don't ... I don't know what to do anymore." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I need ... help."

His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I really don't think I can help you with ... that. There's a psychologist on campus, you can make an appointment with her."

You shook your head. "It's not ... it's not that kind of help. I don't ... I don't know how to explain it. But I need someone to talk to."

"Well, I'm not really a talking person. Sorry. I'll see you in the next lecture. Good night, y/n." He pushed the door closed. Right in your face.

You slid down the wall outside his office, crying harder than when you got there. His shadow still covered the door as he stood there. Probably trying to drown out your pitiful whimpers.

After a few minutes, he walked back over to his desk and sat down. You heard the ice dancing around against the crystal again and wished that you could go in and have a drink with him. You were over 21. It was legal for you to drink. It was legal for you to do nearly anything you wanted. So what was the problem?

15 minutes passed and you were still sitting on the floor. Still crying, still wanting him.

"Miss L/n. Are you still sitting out there?" He asked, still slurring his words.

"Yes. I'm still here."

You heard him sigh and get up from his chair. You could feel his footsteps coming towards the door.

He opened it up and stared down at you. His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up 3/4 of the way. His hair was a complete mess.

He'd never looked better to you.

"Jesus fuck, girl. Get up." He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up with ease. "What's wrong with you, anyway?" He asked as he shut the door behind you and locked it.

You wiped away some of your tears and tried to compose yourself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come. I'll just leave."

He grabbed you by the wrist. "Real-fucking really? You sit outside of my office for 20 minutes, crying and sniveling about some shit - I don't know. And now you're just volunteering to leave me alone? You're even more fucked up than I am, Miss ..."

"L/n. Y/n L/n." You told him.

"I know your fucking name. You don't really have a choice anymore. You came to me for help, right?"

You nodded, wiping away more tears.

"Well, you're not leaving then. Sit down." He pointed to a chair that was in front of his desk. But you went over to the small couch against the wall.

You sat down, one leg folded under you and the other just kind of out there. He followed you and let himself fall down on the opposite end of the couch. He propped his elbow up on the arm of the couch and rested his head in his hand.

"So, what's bothering you, Miss?" He asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. Can we just sit here and be quiet for a little bit?"

"Absolutely. I love it when people like you come by. Just wasting my time like this. Would you like some cucumber water? Perhaps a hot towel." He rolled his eyes.

"No, no, of course not. Just want to sit and be quiet." You smiled to yourself.

"What are you smiling at?" He asked.

"Nothing. Y-you just look, disheveled." Fixing how you were sitting, you felt yourself blushing at how he looked. He was a hot mess.

"Yeah, well, I had a few too many drinks. Had a rough day. No big deal." He looked at you, his eyes glazed over. He licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

You nodded. "I can tell." You said, gesturing to the bottle of scotch on the table.

"I'm not some kind of alcoholic, if that's what you're implying."

"No! No, no, no, no, of course not." You nodded and rolled your eyes. "Just an observation. Nothing more."

He laughed. "You're funny. I didn't know you had it in you."

"What do you mean?" You asked.

"I mean, you're always so quiet and reserved. I didn't know you had such a sense of humor."

You blushed harder. "I'm not really funny. It's just that ... I don't know." You trailed off.

"I mean, you're a good kid. You get good grades. You seem to know what you're doing with your life. Not like me." He gestured to the mess on his desk.

"Well, you're a doctor. That's really impressive."

He scoffed. "I don't really care about that. I just want to be ... something. I don't know what. I just have no idea how to do that. So, I just drink and think about it. Like a fucking moron." He laughed again.

"Maybe you can figure it out. Just ... try new things?"

He nodded. "Yeah, maybe. I'm not really ... motivated to do much, though."

"Well, maybe you just need a push you in the right direction." You told him.

"Like what?" He asked. "What direction is that?" He scooted closer to you and brushed your hair out of your face.

You looked back at him. "I ..." You swallowed the spit that had pooled in your mouth. "I ... whatever? Whatever you want. I don't know."

He smirked. "That's ok. You're cute. I think I get what you mean." He scooted closer and brushed your hair back again. "You're so fucking pretty."

"I'm sorry? I'm not really ..." You shook your head. "I'm not really." You wanted to lunge at him. To kiss him all over his face and work your way down his neck to his bared chest. "I'm not." You said again.

"Yes, you are." He brushed your cheek. "You are."

"Professor Braun, I mean, You've been drinking. You've got whiskey goggles on." You tried to convince him that he wasn't attracted to you right now.

He nodded. "Yeah, shit. Yeah maybe. Ok. Well, do you want to talk about whatever landed you here in my office in the first place? You ready to do that yet?" He leaned back against the couch.

You nodded. "Ok, yes. We can talk."

He nodded and rubbed his face with his hands. "Ok. Talk." He cleared his throat and laid his head against the armrest.

All you could see was his neck. His adam's apple bob when he would take another drink. His shirt was still unbuttoned. You almost felt like you were spying on him as your eyes took him in in this drunken state. He didn't seem like the same man who rejected you earlier. And you grew more and more sorry that you had almost tried to turn him away.

You started talking. About your struggles with everything, and even your desire to do more with your life. But you never looked at him while you talked. You just looked at your fingers that were fiddling with each other in your lap and with your skirt.

You didn't know how much time had passed. But when you were done talking, you felt a little lighter. You felt like you could breathe again. You could think without it hurting.

You looked over at him and he was snoring, his mouth agape, his breathing steady. You couldn't help but stare.

His breaths were slow and relaxed. Your eyes trailed from his lips down to his chest. A light, but full coating of blonde chest hair covered him. It was too tempting to leave alone.

You said his name a few times to test whether or not he was even slightly awake. "Professor Braun?" You cleared your throat. "Aheh, Profes- um, Braun? R-Rei-Reiner?" You dared to say his first name. No response whatsoever. His body didn't twitch. His breathing didn't change.

You scooted closer to him. Your eyes still fixed on his chest.

You didn't know what came over you, but you started rubbing his chest. It was so soft and warm. You traced the outline of his pecs and even toyed with his nipples. They were hard and perky in no time.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to them, gently nibbling on them.

His breathing hitched. Just for a moment. But then he started snoring again.

You moved further down his body and unbuttoned his pants. You unzipped them and pulled his underwear down just enough to see his cock. It was thick and veiny and just begging to be sucked.

You leaned in and took him into your mouth. He tasted like sweat and salt and man. You licked and sucked his shaft, tasting every inch of him. You raised your head up and let a fat string of spit dribble down from your lips to land on the head of his half-hard cock. Once the connecting spit between the two of you snapped, you started to stroke him.

He just laid there. Unknowingly getting off in your hand.

That's what you thought, anyway. His breathing changed. His chest rose and fell higher and deeper.

You did your best to put him back in his pants. But he was so big that there was little to no chance of you getting them zipped.

You crawled on top of him and straddled his hips. You could feel his cock between your legs. You rocked back and forth.

"Mmm ..." He groaned. His hands raised up from his sides and slid up your thighs to your waist.

"Shit! Shit shit." You got back down to where you were sitting on the couch before you started all of this insanity. "Um, hey ... well look who's awake. You're a really good listener, y'know." You tried joking to distract from his fucking raging erection. Like he's not remember his clothes being mostly in tact before he fell into his cat nap.

He nodded and stretched his arms over his head. "Yeah, I'm a real peach, huh?"

You nodded. "So, are you going to go home tonight? Do you want me to call you an Uber or something?"

He looked down at his unzipped pants and his cock sitting proudly outside of his boxers. "Umm ... I don't know what just happened. But ... I ... should we talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Nothing happened. Noth- I mean, you were moving in your sleep a bit and I looked over at you and saw ... I thought you were scratching yourself? Anyway, you should have a doctor check out your brain. This sort of thing could get you into trouble, Rei - Iiii mean, Professor Braun."

He smirked. "Yeah? Scratching myself huh. That's the best you could come up with? Maybe I should ... do something else." He looked up at you. "Come on. Scratching myself. Not really buying it, y/n. Tell me the truth. I may be a total washout and a piece of shit, but stupid? I'm not stupid." He tugged on his cock before letting out a little moan from the deepest part of the back of his throat. And then he let go of himself. He just sat there. Looking intently at you as you turned the most beautiful shade of red he'd ever seen.

It made your cunt throb.

"What'sa matter. Pussy got your tongue." You stood from the couch and in a whisper-yell said to him, "No ... no-nothing has my tongue. Jesus. You're so crude." The more you walked around the more you noticed your panties sticking to you. His sloppy, unkempt state was too sexy to ignore.

He got up and walked to stand behind you, not bothering to put his cock away. You could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck as he leaned in to your ear.

"Am I, though? Am I crude? Or am I ... everything you ever wanted me to be? Hm? You fuckin' think I don't see you staring daggers into me when I'm giving a lecture? You think I'm that oblivious. Maybe you're the one that's stupid." Professor Reiner ghosted his large hands over your shoulders and his breathing stuttered. "No retort? Miss ... Miss smarty pants?"

You turned around and gasped when you actually saw how close he was standing to you. His dick, the only thing between you. He began stroking himself. His brow furrowing as his attention was set on you. He reached out with his free hand and pulled your forehead to his.

"Are you going to leave? The door's right there, Miss."

"You tryin' to get rid of me?" You asked as your faces were centimeters apart. He shook his head, "Cut the shit. Why'd you come here tonight. Was it this?" He shook his cock at you. "Me? Or you just looking for someone to listen to you whine about your little baby problems?" He sounded like he was getting annoyed with you. And you couldn't blame him.

The question caught you off guard, really. Why did you come here, you wondered. You couldn't remember your own birthday when he was standing this close to you.

"I ... I ..." you tried.

"You don't know why the fuck you came here, do you. You're just some desperate little girl who wants her professor to make her feel better. I get it. I do. But don't ... fuck with me." He looked at you and his eyes were still glazed over, but you knew he wasn't drunk anymore. He was just ... him.

"I didn't come here to fuck with you, Professor. I'm sorry I came here at all." You told him.

He shook his head. "No, no. You're not going anywhere. I haven't even gotten started with you yet." He said as he pushed you down onto the couch. He got on his knees and spread your legs apart. He gently lifted your right leg and draped it over his shoulder as he started to kiss your inner thigh. The sounds his mouth made on your body were incredible. And he was sucking on your skin like he was trying to take a bite out an overly ripe peach.

You couldn't believe how rough he was being with you. It was like he couldn't wait to taste you. He moved his tongue further up your thigh and stopped right at the hem of your panties. He breathed in deeply and groaned.

"Fuck. You smell so fucking good. I'm going to eat you alive, Miss." He moved his hands up to your hips and tugged at your panties. You raised your ass up from the couch so he could pull them off of you. He wasted no time in stuffing them in his mouth and groaning. Tasting you.

"Oh fuck. Oh, you taste amazing, Miss." He leaned back in and sucked on your clit. It was so sensitive that you almost yelped.

He grabbed your ass and squeezed it as he devoured you. His tongue was licking every inch of your pussy. And then he moved his hand up your body to your neck. He squeezed it just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded.

You moaned and rocked against his mouth, the friction of his goatee rubbing against your cunt felt like heaven.

He stood up and licked his lips before he started stroking his cock again. "You're a dirty little slut, aren't you? My little goody goody cumdrop, hm?" He smirked.

You nodded. "Yes, Professor. I want to be your good little cumdrop."

He chuckled. "Is that so? Well, let's see if you can handle it." He knelt down in front of you again and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed inside of you, slowly but firmly.

"Oh, fuck. You're so fucking tight. Jesus. You really are a little slut. Hm? I bet you've never been fucked like this before. Never been fucked by a man. Huh? Yeah, fuck. Oh fuck. Oh, y/n. Fuck." He was fucking you so hard that the couch was squeaking. "Fuck, you're so tight. Oh my God. Yes. Fuck. Yes. Oh fuck, yes." He pulled out of you and sat there for a couple of minutes trying to compose himself before he came everywhere.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked at it for a moment and then handed it to you. "What do you want me to do with this?" You asked.

"I don't know. Just hold it for a minute." He said. He got on his knees again and started sucking your clit. He rubbed his goatee against it while he flicked his tongue over it. You couldn't stop yourself from moaning.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck, yes. Yes. Oh my God, yes. Yes!" You screamed as you came all over his face. He lapped it up like he'd never tasted anything so sweet. He sat back and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Fuck, that was good. So fucking good." He looked at his phone and snatched it back from you. He turned it on and started tapping away.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just ... don't worry about it." He set his phone on his desk and started to button up his shirt. "I think we should both get some rest. You should go home. And I have ... I have ... something to do." He picked up his bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass.

"What could you possibly have to do at," you glanced at the clock on the wall, "12:47 in the morning."

He shrugged. "I dunno. Don't worry about it. Just go home, ok?" He gestured to the door.

You nodded and pulled your clothes back on. You felt used and dirty and gross.

"Um, well, goodnight." You said as you headed towards the door.

"Hey, Miss? Y/n?" He called after you.

You turned around. "Yes, Professor Braun?"

"Um, don't tell anyone about ..."

You tilted your head to the left. Glaring at him and pursing your lips. "OH, oh. About? That? Oh, heavens no. I won't tell anyone ..." you raised your voice so much the janitorial staff could hear you, "I WON'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT HOW YOU JUST ATE MY PUSSY AND FUCKED ME AND KICKED ME OUT OF YOUR OFFICE. NO SIR'EE. YOUR SECRET ABOUT HOW YOU LIKE TO FUCK STUDENTS AND THEN KICK THEM OUT IS 100% SAFE WITH ME. You're an asshole. You're a pathetic, pitiful asshole. No wonder you drink alone in your office at night. You were probably hoping someone would come see you. Enjoy your scotch you sack of shit." You didn't wait for him to respond. You just stormed out and slammed the door behind you.

He chuckled to himself and finished his drink. "That went well." He said to himself.

And then he pulled his phone out again and started typing away.

You got back to your apartment and couldn't sleep. You just stared at the ceiling thinking about what happened. Thinking about how you wanted to slap him. You wished you hadn't given him the time of day. You wished you hadn't told him about anything.

You were so mad at yourself. You felt like a complete idiot.

And then your phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You're a good girl. I was a dick. I'm sorry." It said.

You rolled your eyes. "Who the fuck is this?" You typed back.

"It's me. Professor Braun."

You rolled your eyes again and shook your head. "Why the fuck are you texting me? Go to hell." You wrote back.

"I know I was an ass. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. I knew you were going through something and I just ... used it to my advantage. I'm sorry."

You scoffed. "Oh, now you're sorry? Fuck off. Go get fucked." You wrote back.

He didn't reply. And you hoped he got the message. That he couldn't just apologize and expect everything to be ok. That you weren't just some easy target that he could use whenever he wanted.

You weren't going to let him get away with it. Not anymore.

You got out of bed and started looking for your keys. You were going to go back to his office and tell him off. Tell him how much of a dickhead he was and how he was never going to get away with treating people like this.

You slammed the door to your apartment shut and started walking down the street.

You were going to make him pay for what he did. One way or another.

As you walked, you remembered his face when he was eating your pussy. How his eyes were closed and his lips were puckered as he moaned into your cunt. You remembered how his goatee felt on your skin and how he would suck on your clit.

You remembered how he looked at you when he was fucking you. How his eyes were almost glazed over. Like he wasn't even there. Though he'd never felt more present for anything in his life.

You wondered if he ever looked at anyone like that. If he ever let go of himself. You wondered if he was just using you as an outlet for whatever he had been holding back.

You got to his office and saw that the light was still on. You pushed open the door and saw him sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

"I knew you would come back." He said without looking up.

You scoffed. "Oh yeah? How?"

"Because I would have come back too. If I were you." He nodded. "I know it sounds cheesy, but I really am sorry. I just ..." he trailed off.

"You just what? Thought you could use me and toss me aside? Like I'm some fucking toy?" You shook your head. "Not fucking cool. You're a fucking adult, Reiner." You brought your fingers to your lips as you realized you called him by his first name. It didn't seem to phase him in the slightest.

"I know. I know." He stood up and walked over to you slowly. Deliberately, but slowly. "I was an asshole. And I shouldn't have done that."

"Then why did you?" You asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just ... I just felt like I couldn't tell you anything. I didn't think you'd care. And I'm ... I'm not good with words. I'm not good with anything."

You shook your head. "That doesn't excuse what you did. That's not any kind of excuse at all. If you know you're going to be a piece of shit, then stop yourself before it gets to that point. Yeah?"

He nodded his head. "Yeah." He put a hand up to your stomach and tugged on your clothing.

"Yeah?" You asked again. Reiner stepped a little closer to you. His hard cock tenting out his gray khakis. You were still so pissed at him, but you saw right through the act. You saw what he was trying to do. But you had admitted to yourself on the way back to his office that you wanted him again. Despite his shitty treatment of you.

He swallowed hard next to your ear and again said, "Yeah." And in a flash he'd picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. Slamming you into the door, he pressed himself into you while he kissed you hard. Apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Miss. I was such a piece of shit. Please, please ya gotta forgive me, please. Oh God, Miss. You feel so fucking good pleasepleaseplease, fuck." He rambled on and on as he fucked you against the door.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Miss. Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You're such a fucking good girl. You're so smart and hot. Please, Miss. I don't deserve you but please. Fuck, I'm sorry. So sorry. So sorry." He continued his stream of consciousness as he fucked you.

His hips slammed into yours and he held your ass in place so he could get deeper inside of you. Letting you slide down the door just a couple of inches. That was all you both needed to coerce your bodies to explode.

He came first, his cock twitching inside of you as he filled you up with his cum. And you followed right after, your juices coating his cock as he pushed in and out of you a few more times. Your tight pussy squeezing the last precarious drops of cum from his dick.

He let you down gently and kissed your forehead. "I'm sorry, Miss. I really am sorry."

You nodded and brushed his hair out of his face. "I know. I can tell." You smiled at him. "Now, what's this about you having no idea what you want to do with your life?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I just ... I don't know. I want to do something. But I don't know what that something is."

You nodded. "Ok. Well, what do you like? What do you do for fun?"

He thought for a minute. "I uh, um ..." he gently guided you back to the couch and pushed you down to sit. "I like this." He kissed your ankle, working his way up your left leg until he reached the hem of your skirt. "Different panties. These ... are mine now." He stuffed them against his nose and inhaled deeply. "Yeah, mine," he told you as he tucked them into the waistband of his pants. "Now ... where was I ... oh yesss." He put your heels up on the edge of the couch, folding your knees up closer to your chest. "Look at that. Look at all that cum just dripping from that pretty pussy of yours. M'gonna clean you up, Miss." He looked at you waiting for you to give him the permission to feast on your cummy cunt.

You raised your left eyebrow, "What the fuck are you waiting for? Eat it, Reiner. FUCKING EAT IT."

He nodded, "Yes ma'am." And leaned in, his mouth making the filthiest, most delicious noises on your pussy. Licking, sucking, biting, he did everything you ever dreamed of a man doing to your pussy. And then he started finger fucking you. His thick, calloused fingers pressing against your g-spot as he devoured you.

You couldn't hold back anymore. You came again and again. Until you couldn't take it anymore. And he continued to lick and suck and kiss your pussy, cleaning up every drop of cum he had given you. And every drop he'd drawn from you.

You couldn't believe how good he was. He was still apologizing, but you couldn't even hear him anymore. All you could pay attention to was the constant pulsing of your cunt. You'd cum so many times your ears were nearly ringing.

He sat back on his heels and smiled up at you, his face and goatee dripping with your cum. "Did you like that, Miss?" He asked.

You nodded. "Yes, yes, yes. God, yes." You said, barely able to speak. "But you ... you're still a piece of shit. Just ... don't be such a piece of shit next time." You told him.

He nodded. "I'll try. I'll try my hardest." He smirked and leaned in to kiss your inner thigh.

You shook your head. "No more. No more. Please, I can't take any more."

He nodded and stood up. "I'll let you get cleaned up. I'll ... I'll leave you alone. For now."

You smiled at him. "For now. Thank you."

He nodded. "No problem. You're welcome."

You walked over to the door and pushed it open. "Goodnight, Professor Braun."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Miss L/n."

As you walked home, you could breathe again. You didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow. Or even the next day.

But you knew one thing for sure. You were going to make him pay for being such a dickhead. In the most delicious ways possible.

And that thought made you smile from ear to ear.

Tags ::: @callm3senpaii @arlerts-angel @bakubunny

[dragonmuse]

i'm turning 41 this sunday, and it's not gonna be much of a thing due to life circumstances and well-practiced not-caring, but it'd tickle me if you had a fun idea how... really, anyone in the main verse might celebrate their 41st.

(happy early birthday! This one caught me right in the brain pan, so have several birthdays actually. These range from angsty to fluffy pretty much in that order because they're in age order. CW: parent death, shitty parent, but it counts)

Eddy  

The world was very quiet, in the wake of so much noise. Eddy’s ears stopped ringing quickly enough. They had secured the package, a blubbering girl, clinging to Eddy’s right arm. Vaguely, Eddy considered scrapping her off onto Fang, who could be counted on administering pats and sweet words to the distressed. 

“S’okay,” Izzy said roughly to her. “We gotta go though. Boss?” 

“Right,” Eddy shook her head, coming back to clarity. They gave the girl a smile, “You’re safe now. We’re going to bring you home.” 

“Thank you,” she wept harder, clinging tighter. Eddy pulled her into a hug, so she could look over her head at Izzy. She gave him three hand signs. He signed back acknowledgement and took off. 

Her will be done. 

Within an hour, they were all on a plane out. They returned the girl to the grave gratitude of her elderly parents. Eddy gave them the bank information. Suddenly they were all substantially richer. Magic. 

They walked out of the house. Eddy wanted to sleep. She wanted to never sleep again. 

“Drink?” Izzy asked. 

“Yeah.” 

They found a bar close by, too posh for their usual, but liquor was liquor. They both got whiskey and took it to a back table away from the daylight glare. They drank in silence, Eddy staring into space above Izzy’s head while Izzy fixed his attention to the door.  

It was only once she drained the glass and set it down, that his attention went to them again. He reached into his pocket, seemingly in slow motion then eventually set down something in front of them. Bemused, she picked it up. It was a coin, heavy and old. She turned it over and over. 

“What’s this?” 

“Found it while we were waiting for the raid. Caught my eye in the dirt,” he shrugged. “Looked old as fuck.” 

“Huh.” There was a face imprinted unevenly on it, words in a language she didn’t recognize.  Interesting. She slipped it into her pocket. 

“Another?” 

“Not today,” she got up, dug for her wallet, but he was already laying out the tip.  

“Headed home?” 

“Maybe.”  

He nodded as if he expected nothing else. Got to his feet. They’d ridden their bikes here, and they were waiting just down the road. Izzy saddled up, then hesitated a moment. 

“What?” She asked warily. His last minute pronouncements were rarely good, his deep desire to get in the last word often skewering the air. 

“Just...happy birthday,” he started his bike and before she could respond, he was gone. 

Asshole. 

It wasn't even their birthday. Was it? Frowning, she got out her phone and turned it back on. They rarely left it on when they left the country. 

It was their birthday. 

41 and still kicking. She shoved the phone back in her pocket where it clinked against the coin. 

Hoo-fucking-ray. 

Stede 

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Alma said carefully. Her hair was up in two pigtails, looking like sparklers. She smiled at him through the two candles, one a ‘4’, the other a ‘1’. The cake was small, perfunctory. Alma and Mary had sang, one with far more spirit than the other. Charlie had watched silently, with big eyes. The boy didn’t talk much yet, let alone sing. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he managed a smile for her. He caught Mary’s eye. They regarded each other over the flickering lights. As distant as the ocean. 

“Wish,” Charlie said suddenly. 

“Right, of course,” Stede kept the smile glued to his face. “A wish.” 

“Don’t tell us what it is!” Alma scolded him as if he’d been just about to. “You have to keep a secret.” 

“I will,” he promised. 

He stared at the two flames. The plain white cake. Vanilla icing. Vanilla cake beneath. He much preferred lemon, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever told Mary that. Should he? What was one fact in a sea of the unspoken? 

I wish I had a place where I fit. Even if I had to build it around myself. 

Stede didn’t put much faith in wishes. If anyone had been listening, he had made far more desperate ones and a far more tender age and they certainly hadn’t been granted then. But it did feel oddly auspicious that the phone rang in the wee hours of the morning. Mary groaned, curling tighter in on herself under the covers as he picked it up. 

“Hello?” 

“Stede,” that was his father’s wife’s voice. He barely knew the woman, but was unmistakably soft-spoken. So thready that it was often lost during their rare visits entirely. “I’m so sorry. It’s your father.” 

“What’s he done?” Stede sat up, imagining any number of horrors. 

“Died!” She wailed. 

“I see,” he said faintly. 

And as she told him the whole horrible tale, Stede tried very hard not to smile.

It wound up being a very happy birthday after all. 

Izzy  

He got stabbed. There had been worse birthdays. At least this one came with painkillers. 

Pete  

“And the piece of resistance!” Frenchie plonked a box down in front of him. 

“I thought you knew French,” Pete laughed. 

“I do,” Frenchie sniffed. “When I feel like it. And I don’t right now. Take your present, asshole.” 

“Thanks,” Pete lifted it up. 

“We went in together on it,” John told him. 

John and Frenchie were both on the sagging couch that had taken all three of them to get into the apartment. It was high on Pete’s mental list of ‘to replace’ as the money came in. He was on the lone other seat in the apartment, a precarious folding chair. 

“I figured,” he assured John. He hadn’t really been expecting much at all, so it was cool to get a gift. 

He tore through the newspaper and found a repurposed delivery box inside. Opening that and he pulled out a white rectangle. As he held it, it fluffed up freed of it’s confines. 

“A new pillow!” 

“A good one,” John nodded. “We know you’ve been getting a sore neck.” 

“Because you told us. Repeatedly,” Frenchie sniffed. “So. Pillow. It’s supposed to be good for side sleepers.”

“Aw, man, thank you!” He squished it to his chest. “That’s great!” 

“I know it’s not very big, but we’ve got a cake,” John offered. 

“It is big,” Pete told him seriously. 

Last year, everything had been in flux and Pete hadn’t really wanted to acknowledge his birthday anyway. There were things he’d expected to be when he was forty, and broke, parked in Buttons’ house with two ex-co-workers were not any of them. 

But the past year had been one of the happiest of his adult life as it turned out. Who cared if it wasn’t flashy? He had friends, who cared about his neck even if he did complain about it too much, and a job that was kind of okay. No one bothered him much at least. 

“You want the cake then?” Frenchie asked. “We got candles.” 

“Yes, let’s do that.” 

They had cake for dinner. It was a supermarket special, vanilla with a thick chocolate filling. It left him heavy and sluggish, perfect for watching a movie, crowded on the couch with both of them.  

Oluwande  

“I love you so much!” Oluwande told Jim. 

“I know,” they were laughing at him, but that was okay. Jim had a great laugh. 

And Oluwande was maybe a little drunk. 

“You’re the best partner,” he gushed. 

“Oh, I know,” they nodded. 

“I am very drunk.” 

“Ooooh yeah.” 

“Are you drunk?” 

“Nope.” 

“That seems unfair,” he decided. “Why aren’t you drunk?” 

“Because this is way more fun,” they leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Why am I drunk?” he asked, which seemed more pertinent. 

“Cause you’re a lightweight,” Roach sat down on his other side, holding out a glass of water. “And you insisted you could keep up with me. Spoiler alert: you cannot.” 

“I could,” Oluwande said firmly, taking the water when it was pushed into his hand. 

“You can’t,” Jim told him like they were informing him of a grave injury. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

“Damn. Are we done drinking?” 

“You are.” 

“Okay,” that seemed wise, actually. Things were a little blurry. “Can I have another piece of pie?” 

“Your funeral,” Roach decreed and then there was pie. It smelled amazing. Fuck cake, truly. 

“Please don’t fuck a cake,” Frenchie cackled. When had he gotten here? 

“I wouldn’t. Because it sucks,” he decreed and ate a piece of pie. 

“I like cake,” Stede was saying a little wistfully. Was everyone here? Oh. Right. They were. Party. Oluwande gave himself points for recalling his general location. 

“I’ll get you cake,” Eddy assured him. 

“I mean not right now, I’m very full. Excellent spread, Roach, once again.” 

“Yeah, well, Oluwande is more interesting to cook for. He has taste.” 

“Right now, he has pie,” Frenchie was laughing again. “You good, man?” 

“Yes,” Oluwande said earnestly, taking a sip of his water. “Never been better.” 

“I think you’re aging backwards,” Roach gave him a speculative look. “Damn baby face.” 

“I’m a distinguished man of my years,” Oluwande shrugged. “And I’m cute.” 

“He is,” Frenchie agreed. “We all think you’re cute. Like very. Especially right now. You’re selling it. The tiara especially.” 

The tiara and sash that said ‘Birthday Girl’ had been presented to him while he was still dressed as Teal for the night. He had put them back on after he’d de-dragged because fuck it. He was the Birthday Girl. 

“Happy birthday, Olu,” Jim rested their chin on his shoulder. It was kind of pointy, but he liked that. He pressed his cheek to theirs. 

“Thanks. For everything.” 

“Always,” they slid and arm around him. 

Lucius 

“You want a cake?” Pete asked.  “Nontraditional. No candles. Just sweet goodness.” 

“Not really,” Lucius set down his stylus with a sigh. “I’d really prefer just to pretend it’s not happening at all. Per usual. Please.” 

“Okay,” Pete slid his arm around him, pressed a kiss to his temple. “Would you like, entirely unrelated to any particular day, to go see that immersive Van Gogh thing you keep calling ‘horribly tacky and overpriced’, if I happened to buy some tacky, overpriced tickets?” 

Lucius repressed a smile, “Why would you do such a thing if you knew I thought it was tacky and overpriced?” 

“Because you sometimes love tacky and overpriced and I want to see the pretty pictures. And make you explain them to me.” 

“Fine,” Lucius pretended to be aggrieved. “For your sake. When?” 

“Got ‘em for Wednesday. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” he brought Pete’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thanks.” 

Later that afternoon, Frenchie brought in the mail. There was a small package for Lucius which he presented him without fanfare. It was from some bland company, return address vague. 

“I didn’t order anything,” he frowned, but opened it.  Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back, after all. 

There was a small, but lush box inside, matte black. He drew that out. It felt familiar somehow though he couldn’t pin it down. It had a hinge, so he opened it and was rewarded. A bracelet sat inside, a very thin leather one in his favorite shade of red. Embossed in the center was the image of a key, filled with black resin so it caught the light. 

“Oh you asshole,” Lucius laughed and drew it out. 

Lucius: I said no presents. 

Izzy: coincidence. Ordered it weeks ago, no idea when it would ship. 

Lucius: Liar. I love it. What’s the key for? 

Izzy: cuff isn’t actually locked, doesn’t need a real key. 

Lucius stared at the message, then at the bracelet. He picked it up and put it on, a difficult business one handed. It was unobtrusive, less eye-catching than the thick leather black cuff on Izzy’s wrist. Unlikely someone would even draw a line between one to the other even if they saw them together. 

No one else had to know. Lucius would. Izzy would. 

Lucius: No one would ever believe me if I told them what you were actually like.  

Izzy: good.  

“Happy birthday to me,” Lucius said smugly. 

He’d let their shenanigans pass again this year.  They kept managing to get away with it. Probably wasn’t really teaching the right lesson. Maybe next year he’d be firmer. 

Maybe. 

[hannahsmusings]

Jackson

*Jackson’s entire body heated up at the intimate nickname, you having called him that once before during the blackout and he blamed it on the liquor and lack of proper food in your system, but he knew now that it was just a nickname that you chose, something private and intimate ofr the two of you, knowing you’d never say that nickname in front of anyone else to preserve his own ego and he wanted to kiss you so damn bad right now, the urge stronger than he had ever felt before, wanting to show you how such a small thing mattered to him so much, never experiencing this sort of intimacy with anyone else in his life* *his eyes were still stormy as he continued gazing into your eyes, the blue only darkening as that wave of emotions ashes over your face, knowing you were thinking about him and how he had betrayed you tonight, his body tensing at the thought of you going back to him after all of this, not knowing how he would cope with that information* *his jaw tightens and he shakes his head as you say it would be the same, knowing it wouldn’t be, knowing if he was the one who was punched, the fight in Jackson would’ve taken over and Matt would’ve been laid out cold but the fact that you were hurt, Jackson wanted to pummel Matt into the ground and hope that the paramedics got to him in time* *his face softens just a bit as he realizes the heaviness of your words, if he was the one who was hurt, you’d be hurt… his heart stuttered in his chest and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to control himself, that same urge from the kitchen the night of the blackout looming over him again, needing to kiss you and feel you and fucking love you because that’s what you deserved and he was realizing that’s what he deserved too* No one should of been hurt tonight… but especially not you. And especially not by him. *his tone was soft but his eyes were as bright and stormy as ever as he felt a magnetic pull to you, not even noticing the car had stopped in front of the manor, desperate to lean in and claim you as his own, the only thing breaking him from his trance was the sound of Martin clearing his throat, his eyes finally ripping from you and looking into the front seat*

*Martin was aware that neither Jackson nor Hannah remembered that he was in the car at all, trying to be as quiet as possible as the two of them spoke words with their eyes that they were both too terrified to say out loud* *he didn’t want to interrupt the moment but it didn’t seem to register to either of them that the car had stopped, clearing his throat as quietly as he could, giving Jackson an apologetic look in the rearview* I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we’re at the manor. Would you like a moment?

*Jackson looked out the darkened windows, shocked that he didn’t even notice the car had stopped, so focused on you and nearly forgotten his own whereabouts* No, Martin, we’ll get out now. Thank you. *he looks back at you, reluctantly dropping his hand and his gaze as he focuses back on the kit, closing it up and tucking it back into it’s spot before looking back at you* Lets get you inside so we can put a proper ice pack on that and get your room set up.. *he slides out of the car when Martin opens the door, reaching his hand in and waiting for you to take it so he could help you out, that warmth from your hand rushing through him and steadying him like it always did*

___________________________________________________

*there was something different in your gaze, something there and it was gradually flickering, flaring up a little when you looked at me and it made my heart race, feeling the more I got to know you the easier you were to read but that look, it was heavy, and meaningful and I knew if I tried to label it I’d come up short, not wanting to look away as a thickness settles around us* *body warms with longing as I watch your face soften at my words, realising in that moment how much I meant it, I cared about you deeply and the thought of you being hurt made my stomach clench with fear, hand twitching as it holds yours and suddenly feeling breathless and light as I look up at you, overwhelmed by this yearning to be closer to you* *breath hitches at your words, so much meaning in them, my heart pounding loudly in my chest and my thumb gently swiping your palm as I hold it, tingles shuddering down my spine as my gaze drops to your lips, realising I wanted more in this moment, I wanted to kiss you and the realisation hit me like a ton of bricks, the weight of my want for you was undeniable, reeling from it before Martin is clearing his throat the the moment shatters, cheeks flooding with heat as I let go of your hand and look up at him in the rear view*  Thank you Martin, for coming so quickly. *whispers shyly, offering him a smile before looking back at you as Martin gets out to open your door, taking your hand and feeling immediately anchored as I hold it for support and step out, looking from your hand to your face in total bewilderment, everything feeling different now I’d realised how I felt* *turns to Martin, thanking him again* Have a nice night. *says to him, smiling and noticing his kind smile back before I continue to hold your hand as you lead me up the cobblestones to your house, suddenly feeling nervous as this wasn’t a work visit*

[phases--ofthemoon]

Lonely Harte (Damon x OC) CH.2

SUTTON'S POV

I wasn’t even sure what time it was but I knew I would be pissed at myself tomorrow morning when I had to get up for class. Mira and Carleigh were well on their way to drunk when I had arrived and now they were fully sloshed. I myself was heavily buzzed on my second Long Island. It’s funny how fast you can get drunk on an empty stomach.

The three of us were playing pool with a few guys from school. I didn’t really know them but Carleigh did and told me they were on the basketball team. They were sorta cute but I didn't really have any interest in any of them. The only reason I hadn’t left was because I was feeling the liquor I had consumed and definitely couldn’t drive anywhere yet.

Mira and Carleigh were practically making out with the two guys they had been hitting it off with. The third guy who had been talking to me, Shawn was now standing awkwardly next to me with his beer. I may have been plenty tipsy but I had no interest in making out or going home with him. At first he had seemed nice but as the night went on he started to get a little handsy and I just got a weird vibe. I broke away from our little group excusing myself to the bathroom.

I let out a deep breath as soon as I was in the bathroom. I took in my appearance, yeah I was definitely a little drunk and a little disheveled at this point. I smoothed down my hair a bit and readjusted the black tank top I was wearing and attempted to fix my make up a bit. Much Better.

I savored my last moments of quiet before heading back out to whatever I was about to encounter with my roommates and the basketball boys. Upon coming out of the bathroom I slammed into a hard warm body. “Shit—I’m sorry.” I said looking up into the ice blue eyes of Damon Salvatore . I felt all the heat rise to my face and he just smirked as I took a step back.

“We meet again.” He said.

“That we do.” I laughed. If I was sober I would have been way more embarrassed but my liquid courage was still in effect at the moment so I was only a little embarrassed. I caught myself staring at him, he was probably one of the hottest guys I had ever seen. No scratch that he definitely was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. Damon’s expression seemed amused by me not so subtly checking him out.

“Sorry.” I mumbled “I may be a little buzzed.” I said half-heartedly.

I saw something flash in his eyes and for a moment I felt a twinge of fear deep inside me.

“Can I get you another drink?” He asked

“A water first.” I insisted and motioned for me to lead the way to the bar.

He got himself a glass of whiskey and I got myself a much needed water. I needed to sober up. Lord knows how I would embarrass in front of Damon if I kept drinking.

“Your friend left?” I asked him.

“Yeah he has school in the morning, can’t hang I guess.” He said giving a little smirk.

“Yeah, I should probably be home myself. How about you? No school?”

“Yeah I finished school quite a while ago.” He said taking a sip. I wondered if he was older than he looked. The man was just intriguing on all levels.

“So what do you do?” I was even more curious now, I wondered what kind of job he would hold. He could definitely be a model but if he was he wouldn’t be here in this town.

“A little bit of this and that.” He said noncommittally. I was about to give him a witty response when Shawn the basketball player appeared In front of us. Oh Great…

DAMONS POV

Sutton was a curious little thing and the way she had stared at me when I ran into her definitely caught my attention. I had of course heard she was heading here after she had left work. Was that why I had come here? I told myself no. That would be ridiculous.

When I noticed she was a little drunk my instincts almost took over, being so close to her, smelling her. She smelled delicious. I almost pushed her into that bathroom and had a little drink myself but something stopped me and it annoyed me.

Other thoughts flooded my mind after that, other fun things we could do in that bathroom but even though I didn’t know her well she didn’t seem like the type to have casual sex with a stranger. I decided to buy her a drink and see where the night led it couldn’t hurt anyways.

We were now standing in front of the bar, Sutton asking me casual enough questions that I answered evasively. Suddenly a guy walked up to the two of us. Was this her boyfriend? She could definitely do better. She looked surprised to see the guy and not overly excited. So maybe not her boyfriend. Good. Good? Why did I even care?

“Hey.” The guy said looking over at Sutton. “Getting another drink?”

“Yeah, I needed a water.” She smiled but it didn’t meet her eyes.

“Who’s your friend?” The guy asked sizing me up. Yeah buddy try it and see what happens. I was itching to let off a little steam I'd been having to play "well behaved" far too much recently.

Sutton glanced at me and chewed on her bottom lip for a second before moving right next to me and looping her small arm around me.

“This is Damon, my boyfriend.” Boyfriend? I almost snorted at her blatant lie. I had half a mind to blow her cover but I was too amused at this situation. I scanned the room and noticed two girls and two guys staring in our direction, I connected the dots assuming they were her friends who had paired off and she was left with this guy whom she seemed not interested in in the slightest.

What the hell? why not play along? I swung one arm around her shoulders the other holding my drink. “Yep, I’m the boyfriend.” Disappointment was all over the guy's face. I smirked feeling more triumphant than I probably should. Yeah you won’t be getting any from her tonight buddy.

“Oh uhh well nice to meet you, I’m Shawn.” He said looking awkwardly between Sutton and I.

"Thanks for keeping my girl company until I showed up." I said hoping he'd get the hint to buzz off and thankfully he did.

“Well I’m just gonna grab another beer. See ya around.” He said moving to an open spot at the other end of the bar. Sutton politely waved bye to him then quickly stepped out of our embrace. Oddly enough I kind of missed the contact.

“Sorry.” She said looking up at me through her thick lashes. She was short little thing. “Thank you for playing along…you’re a lifesaver.” She smiled gratefully at me.

“No problem, but you owe me.” I said giving her a wink. She laughed light heartedly and I had to admit I liked the sound of it. She bought me a drink thanking me again and got another water for herself and a plate of fries eating them happily as we sat at the bar.

“So no boyfriend?” I asked. I was a little surprised she didn’t have one. She seemed fun and she certainly was pretty enough.

“No, not really looking for one to be honest.” She said taking a bite of a fry. “How about you? Sorry if you do have a girlfriend.”

“Nah, I’ve sworn off woman at the moment.” She arched an eyebrow at me.

“Long story.” I said.

“Fair enough.” She nodded. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as she finished her fries. “Well I should probably get home.” She said looking at the time on her phone. “I’ve got class in the early.”

“Are you good to drive?” I wasn’t entirely sure she had sobered up enough for that also I wasn't sure why I cared.

“I’ll just walk, our apartment is only a couple blocks away. Plus I know my car will be safe here overnight.” She said too casually. This girl had no idea what lurked in the shadows of this town.

“I can drive you.” I offered and again I didn't know why.

“You’ve been drinking far more than me.” She pointed out laughing. She also had no clue how much liquor I had to consume to actually get drunk. I wasn’t anywhere close to drunk but I played along.

“Fair point. How about I walk you then?” She chewed on her bottom lip again something she seemed to do when she was thinking something over.

“Okay.” She finally said. “I’m just gonna say goodbye to my roommates and make sure they’re okay.”

I nodded and watched her walk over to the two inebriated girls. They seemed to have sobered up a little from earlier though and were sipping on water themselves. The three of them talked briefly and I saw the girl's eyes all glance at me for a moment. College girls. I smirked to myself.

About a minute later Sutton was back at my side. I finished the last of my drink and we headed out the door. The night was cool for late August but it felt nice.

We fell into silence as we walked side by side down the streets of mystic falls. I could see her occasionally glance over at me and I wondered what she was thinking. The further we got from the Grill the more the thought popped into my head to take a little drink from this girl. A little eat & erase wouldn’t be a big deal and no one would know. But for the second time tonight I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“So are you from here?” She asked breaking the silence.

“Yep, born and raised but I have done some traveling over the years. How about you?”

“I’m from town about an hour away. It's actually smaller than this. That’s where my grandma lives. I haven’t traveled much, honestly I’ve never been out of Virginia. I like it here though, this town I mean. It’s nice.” She smiled looking around the dark streets.

“So other than your grandma any other family around?” I didn’t know why I was even asking her these questions. Was it to fill the silence or because I genuinely wanted to know?

“Nope, it’s just her and I actually.” I felt for the girl, she didn’t have much family and that was something I could relate to. “How about you?”

“It’s just my younger brother and I.” I said honestly.

She nodded understanding in her eyes. We were two people who had lost the majority of our families for whatever reasons.

“Well this is me.” She said as we arrived to one of the few old apartment buildings in town. “Thank for you walking me home and for playing along earlier.” She smiled.

“Thanks for the entertaining evening. Goodnight Sutton.”

“Goodnight Damon.” She said and paused before she turned and walked up her steps and unlocked the door. I slowly walked away but made sure she was securely inside before I disappeared back to my car.

[ships-n-giggles]

~One Day Later~

Coronis sat in her room, reading. It felt normal, quiet. And the scuffle from under her bed assured her, that all was right with the world again.

"Welcome back."

"...."

The rough-and-tough assassin climbed up from under the bed, dusting himself off...and strangely silent. Cori was....understandably worried. They had spent a month not properly seeing each other.

And after the little misadventure with the Other Striker in the spacial corridor, he had gone straight home.

"Gimme a drink."

"....sure."

A glass of hard liquor was poured over ice into a crystal glass and handed over, and he took his favored seat on the couch, feet kicked onto the table as he took a long slow drink. Cori eyed him nervously, but turned back to her book until he was ready to speak.

"...So." He waited several long minutes before speaking. "This other me was just lookin' for a way out huh?"

"Yes." She confirmed. "But he didn't know me. So when I recognized your face, there was....a bit of confusion." Mostly running, at first. "But once we cleared things up, that's when he realized he was in the wrong place. When did you figure it out?"

"When I found out yer husband was single. Went lookin' fer ya....thought you got divorced or somethin' with my knowin'."

"What did happen?"

To this, he said nothing.

Cori took the hint and didn't press the issue. If he disliked what he found, it was likely not worth finding out. But he did let out a sharp grunt. "Hmph. That fraud of a cowboy was quick to cozy up to you-" He said with a growl. "-couldn't believe there was a side of me that was such a pushover."

"I wouldn't say that." Cori defended. "He was just like you. Just...his priorities had changed a lot. Anyone might seem different when their heart's in a different place."

She sighed.

"But I am glad to have the real one back."

Striker's eyes widened in surprise, his head turning her way. "You don't say?" He said outloud, before turning to a smirk. "You fancy yerself a real cowboy huh?"

Coronis turned pink. "I-I'm not going to justify that with an answer."

"Ha! Suit yerself Princess, suit yerself."

(Second Wife Playbook AU) "Mr. Striker? Is that you?"

"Hm?"

The cowboy turned around, frowning: who the Hell-?

His eyes widened for a few moments, before a low hiss escaped his lips, followed by his tail rattling dangerously:

Was that a fucking Goetia who just called for him??

@ships-n-giggles

[look-at-the-soul]

Hello! Please could I request a Tommy x daughter with the prompt

“Let me hold your hair back, at least

Dear anon ✨ thank you so so much for sending this prompt!! I loved writing this little story 🥰 I hope you like it too!

Daddy’s little girl

Tommy Shelby x reader (daughter)

Opening the heavy door, your breath caught up in your throat as it creaked.

Cyril groaned but before you could announce it was you, he barked three times.

“Shhh keep your barks down! You’re going to wake everybody up.” You whispered.

Once he realized it was only you, he got close to lick your hand then started to sniff over your clothes.

Shit it was so dark, the moonlight barely entering the big room. There was a big table in the middle so you tried to walk around it, the decoration of the floor started to move under your feet so closing your eyes for a second and after a deep breath, started to walk cautiously, it was a short walk to the stairs the problem was all the things you’d have to sort out first in order to make it into one piece to your room on the second floor.

Everything was so quiet, Frances would be so helpful right now.

Your head was spinning.

Maybe you could crash on the sofa and wake up early before your father did.

That sounded like a good pla-

“Y/N Shelby… Where the fuck have you been?”

The light in the drawing room went on and your father’s deep voice made your blood ran down to your feet.

“Dad! Fuck… You scared me!” Your heartbeat went resoundingly fast.

“Language Y/N.” As you saw him get up, you attempted to take an straight posture, shoulders back, chest up, you hoped your eyelids were completely open. “Were you drinking?”

Despite knowing the answer to his own question, he wanted to hear it from you.

Why was the room spinning so fast? Or was it you moving?

“Juss a lil.”

Placing your thumb and index finger together you closed your eye to look to your father, the infamous gangster of gangsters, Thomas Michael Shelby, OBE, DSM, MM, MP.

“You know those titles mean close to nothing right?” Oh fuck, you said that out loud. “My most important job is being your father and keep you safe, Y/N. But it becomes the hardest task when my own daughter decides to sneak out by the window to go a tavern to drink her soul out and-”

“The roof.” You corrected him while trying to hold on something, maybe leaning on the wall will do, you decided.

“Excuse me?” He frowned and looked at you through his glasses.

“I was looking at the stars on the rooftop and decided to go for something to drink.” You tried to explain him.

“In the middle of the night? Alone? To God knows what place?” He threw his glasses on the couch, his sleeves were rolled up, his anger level must be around a three, maybe a four. Oh, oh… he’s going to start now with the Tommy Shelby Psalm about how he was born in a boat and had to quit school to go to the war to fight for his country…

Nothing happened. The older, the grumpier.

“Don’t tell me I’m old! Don’t you realize when you’re drunk you say everything that’s crossing your mind?” Anger level soon reached an eight. The highest you saw him reach was when at 7 years old, uncle Arthur was throwing snow on your head because you wanted to go outside while it was snowing for real. Maybe he reached a 10 with you when you were five and there wasn’t any more strawberry ice cream left and you had no choice but tell the ice cream man that maybe if your daddy pulled out his revolver he would find some.

“And then you cried when I scolded you for telling that to the man and I reached level -80. Because I felt bad for making you cry.” He completed your memory with a smile. “But that’s not the point now Y/N, you’re seventeen you can’t go in the middle of night for a drink.”

“You changed the keys to the cabinet under your desk with the liquor.”

“So it was you stealing my whiskey!” Again, he reached level four.

“Calm down dad, it was just a bottle of scotch.”

The problem is when you tell someone to calm down, they do exactly the opposite.

“Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down, Y/N!”

“Don’t yell at me like that, I’m not one your pets… I’m your daughter!” Mum wouldn’t allow this, you thought. If only she was still alive.

“Then behave like that.” His voice was lower but his tone was still firm.

Smirking and rolling your eyes at him you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. “Well, that’s exactly what I did and now you’re angry at me for drinking?”

You inherited your mother’s strong temper and your father’s mouth, aunt Polly said it was a bloody combination to be afraid of.

Between the fear of him scolding you and the sudden sadness over the need of your mum right there, your drunkenness seemed to drop down dramatically.

Turning your back at him to end this useless argument, you tried to march out of the room, unfortunately for you, your sharp movement combined with the spinning of your head and the alcohol in your system, made your stomach twist and you felt like throwing up.

Rushing upstairs to your room, you held the burning sensation in your mouth just enough for you to make it into the bathroom.

Did you really drink that much?

As you were quietly asking for your internal organs to remain in its place while throwing up, you felt a gentle pair of hands rubbing your back.

“Don’t look dad!” This was so embarrassing! Another round of sickness hit you.

“Let me hold your hair back, at least.” Your dad’s hands gently moved your hair to hold it away from your face.

He had been there before and he didn’t want his only daughter to feel bad, once you cleaned your mouth, Tommy moved around the room to get rid of the cushions on your bed and after pulling back the covers, he rushed to get some water while you changed your clothes.

“Here, drink this.” He handed you a glass and placed the small jar next to your bed.

“Thank you.” But before he could walk out, you stopped him. “Dad?… can you stay until I fall asleep like when I was little?”

If there was something that made Tommy weak, it was you.

“Sure princess.” Taking off his shoes, he climbed into bed, getting comfortable.

“I miss her.” Your voice trailed off at the memory.

Swallowing hard, he admitted: “I miss her too… every single thing you do, it’s like watching her doing it.”

“Really?” Your face lighting up thinking that you looked like her.

“You have her eyes, her smile, you fucking walk like her too…” there was a melancholic smile on his lips. “Sometimes when I hear you talking I think it’s her.”

It was so unlike him to talk about his feelings, he was always so guarded from everybody. “Go to sleep now, you will feel like shit tomorrow and I’m going to be here to enjoy it.” Kissing your forehead, he let his cheek rest close to your head.

But while that happened he knew that this was his own payback. Because even though you were the living image of the woman he had loved, you were also his clone.

Feeling your eyelids closing, you could still hear him whisper: “No matter how old you are… You will always be your daddy’s little girl.”

*****

Join my celebration here

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @onlydeadcells @lespendy @thomashelbyswhore @lespendy @datewithgianni @shelbydelrey @fastfan

[rahjasmine]

Can you post Spark on here? its on ao3 but i really want it to be in my blog so it easier to find. pleas eplease please!

Absolutely, anon! Here you go...

Spark

Summary:   Headcanon of what happened when Elain and Azriel stayed up alone together during the ACOFAS Solstice. Is this when the first "brush of their fingers" occurred?

Word Count: 1522

Ratings/Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Alcohol, Tension, Headcanon

Also available on AO3 

Elain’s first Solstice was coming to a close. Opening gifts and having dinner with Nesta in attendance had gone as well as to be expected. And then there was her swift exit in to the blustery night, money in hand and Cassian trailing after her. Elain had spent the subsequent minutes after Nesta’s departure once again perched in the window watching the snow fall beyond the warmth of the townhouse. The bay windows were caked in delicate frost. Mor, Feyre, Rhysand, and Azriel chatted quietly behind her. Amren and Varian having departed half an hour before. 

Deciding to top the night off with one more drink, Elain rose silently and glided over to the liquor cabinet along the side of the sitting room to pour herself just one more finger of dark liquor. She knocked it back, managing to not grimace as much as she did with her earlier glass. 

Elain felt a warm presence move up to her side. A heady scent of cedar and mist enveloped her as she turned to look up at him. Azriel smiled faintly as he gestured to the crystal decanter of amber liquid. “I could use one more as well.” His midnight smooth voice sent faint tingles up her spine. 

Elain smiled. Blush blooming on her cheeks before she ducked her head and stepped out of his way. She made her way back to the settee, taking a seat and plucking her garden sketches from the end table.  Her elegant fingers leafing through the pages to find where she had sketched an overall layout of the townhouse garden. 

The clock chimed three in the morning as a weight settled into the spot next to her. Rusting his wings, Azriel tried his best to shift into a comfortable position on a seat not designed to accommodate him. He angled his body slightly toward her, an arm tossed over the back of the settee. His other hand held a tumbler of whiskey and ice, resting it casually on a thigh. His long legs extended and crossed at the ankles. He exuded cool masculine confidence as he let his eyes roam from her neck and down the bodice of her amethyst velvet gown before settling on the papers in her hands. 

“Already making plans for your new gardening supplies?” He asked softly. 

Elain nodded excitedly. Golden brown curls falling over her shoulders with the movement. “Yes, I already have new plans drawn up.” She raised the papers slightly in emphasis. 

“Care to show me?” Azriel’s lips curled up at the corners, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. 

Excitement rushed through Elain. Azriel was the first one to ask to see the plans she had been working hard on perfecting for the past few days. 

“Yes.” Elain said quietly. 

She shifted her body to lean closer to him, holding the papers between them. He was looking at her plans with what seemed to be genuine interest a she began to explain her drawings. 

But before she could get into any real detail, the front door burst open and Cassian stalked in, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. The carpet in the foyer doing nothing to muffle the sound. He stalked up the stairs without a word, clearly upset by whatever had just happened outside with Nesta. Mor rose from her place at the end of the couch and hurried after Cassian, bottle of wine in hand. 

Rhysand and Feyre sighed and looked at each other, a few moments passing as they spoke silently between them before rising to make their way to the foyer and up the stairs, leaving just her and Azriel alone in a finally quiet sitting room. 

★

Azriel watched his High Lady lead Rhys around the corner and up the stairs. He finished off the rest of his liquor in a single swallow before discarding the empty glass on the low table in front of the settee. 

He heard Elain’s breath falter, drawing his attention back to her. She looked up at him, her beautiful doe-eyes flashed with uncertainty. Azriel offered her a small smile and nodded once, hoping she would continue. 

Elain leaned back in once more, holding her drawings between them. Her thigh pressed into his ever so slightly as she adjusted to begin gesturing to different features and notes. Azriel’s attention honed in on the contact. Her thick velvet gown did nothing to keep the heat from her leg from seeping into his - and combined with her exquisite scent of jasmine and honey… Azriel had to take a few subtle deep breaths through his mouth to calm himself. He wasn’t used to being so affected by a female. His centuries of well honed control usually aided him, but not with her. She has a mate. She is my friend. He reminded himself as he continued to listen to her enthusiastically explain what herbs she wanted to try adding next. 

Elain went on to explain her plans for each flower bed. Pointing to precisely drawn squares and rectangles laid out to match the garden in back as she went. Azriel enjoyed listening to her as she spoke about what made her happy. It did not matter that he had no real use for information about gardens and plants. It mattered to his friend, so it mattered to him as well. 

Elain had just about explained her entire map of the garden, though Azriel was sure she had left out the small little circles drawn around the fountain in the center of the garden. He reached up with a scarred hand to point to the feature, “And what about these–” He halted mid-sentence, as Elain reached up to point at the same spot on the map, bumping her hand into his. 

They both let out small gasps at the sudden and accidental contact. Azriel looked to her, ready to politely apologize, but when his gaze met hers he froze. Her brown eyes were swirling like molten chocolate, her lips were slightly parted and a cute little blush crept across her cheeks. 

Azriel became hyper aware again. And cauldron boil him, their hands were still held up to the map, a few of their fingers still in contact with each other. He should pull his ruined hand away from her. Apologize and move on, but damn him, he was transfixed. 

Elain made no move to end the contact either. Looking up at him like he was the very center of the universe. Azriel swallowed thickly as he finally gained the strength to move. 

He moved slowly, letting his rough index finger drag gently along the side of her much softer one. He shouldn’t have, it was wrong. But he couldn’t help himself. The sensation of their fingers brushing so tenderly sent a feeling like warm rain up his arm. And from her rapid blinking, he knew she felt it too. But miraculously, Elain didn’t balk or pull her hand away. She let him sweep the entire length of her hand - fingertip to the back of her palm. 

When his hand finally returned to his lap, she lowered hers. Elain broke the eye contact first. Rising quickly and glancing to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. Only hot coals remained now, the house and street beyond were quiet. 

“I am not used to staying up this late, I should go – to bed.” Elain said, only a slight stutter as she spoke. Looking back to him with a shy smile. 

She discarded her papers on the end table as he too rose and tucked in his wings. “Let me walk you to your room.” Azriel blurted. 

Elain froze mid stride to the foyer. Glancing back at him. Azriel knew he had assuredly overstepped now, but she surprised him yet again tonight as she smiled coyly, nodding once. 

They ascended the stairs together silently. Turning into the hallway, they came to Azriel’s door first, and Elain stopped. 

He gave her a puzzled look but she cracked a devious smile as she whispered almost to quiet for even his shadows to hear, “It looks like I’ve actually escorted you to your room.” 

Azriel was dumbfounded as she walked to the next door down the hall - her room. He placed his hand on the doorknob to steady himself. Elain stood down the hall at her door. And even in the dark hallway, on the longest night of the year, she glowed like the sun at dawn as she smiled at him. 

“Goodnight.” She whispered as she opened her door and disappeared behind it. 

Azriel shook himself from his trance and entered his room quickly and silently. Seeing that Cassian wasn't in his bed, Azriel let out an audible sigh as his shadows swarmed him. He fished her gift from the pocket of his tailored jacket and looked at the small vial in the palm of his scarred hand. The same hand that he had just let touch hers. The ghost of the sensation of their fingers brushing so delicately had him shuddering. He closed his hand around the vial.

Azriel knew then that he was well and truly fucked.