#like of course he needs to be a little bit plain because his whole thing is about fitting in and performing normalcy

[ccrv-7]

redesigning leon just in the slightest and it is 20% because he looked plain and 80% so i can snatch his waist

[brattyfics]

Sins of The Flesh II

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]

Wordcount: 3,000+

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), P in V, Spanking Aftermath, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Absolute Filth, Breeding Kink, Oral (Female Receiving)

A/N: Part One should be read first. Divider by fireflygraphics. I'm kind of embarrassed, but not really because y'all are nasty too.

“I want grits with a salmon croquette and chicken sausage. Can you get me a strawberry lemonade too? Their lemonade is amazing.”

Riley lay on her stomach in bed, facing Terry, who was propped up against the headboard, cell phone in hand. He rubbed between her shoulder blades, his touch gentle and soothing as he dialed up the brunch restaurant. Freshly bathed and wrapped up in one of his Marines T-shirts, she felt almost like she was floating. Having Terry there, being so attentive and caring, was exactly what she needed after their time apart.

“You want a side of bacon, too?” he asked, eyeing her with a raised brow. He knew her too well—she always said no, but then asked for some of his when the food arrived. “No, I don't need that much. Just a little bit.” She pinched her fingers together, mimicking a tiny portion.

“I’ll just have some of yours. You’ll share, right, baby?” She reached over lazily to rub his forearm, her fingers caressing the scar above his wrist. His expression softened as he gazed into her sweet brown eyes. She was so mesmerizing without even trying.

“Of course. Whatever you want,” he said, placing the order without the bacon but adding on an order of beignets. They were her guilty pleasure and he enjoyed tasting the powdered sugar that lingered on her lips afterward.

He tossed his phone aside after learning the total. “It’ll be here in an hour.”

“An hour?” she sighed deeply, “I’m going to starve by then.” After church hunger hit differently, and his spanking had drained her energy even more. She needed a nap and a big hearty meal to recover.

“You’ll be a’ight,” he grinned, shaking his head slightly as he laughed. "As soon as you take that first bite, you'll be saying it was worth the wait." Riley erupted into laughter, surprised at how predictable she really was. “Quit acting like you got me all figured out,” she giggled, tracing the lines of his palms with her fingers. “Today could be different, you never know.”

“You say that every week, babe.”

“I could change my mind,” she insisted, coming up with all kinds of scenarios—like missing chicken sausage or a plain lemonade that would throw her whole day off. The beignets could arrive soggy or without enough powdered sugar.

"You just talkin' to be talkin', huh?" He cut her off, tickling her sides until she was shrieking and wiggling away from him. She swatted at his hands, enjoying the lightness of the moment and teasing him back, “You know you love when I run my mouth.”

“You got a gift for keeping things interesting, that’s for sure.” He admitted, gaze drawn to her backside as her legs kicked up playfully behind her. The moments when it felt like it was just the two of them in the entire world with nothing else to worry about were her favorite.

“See? I knew you liked all this mouth.”

“Yeah, but that mouth is what keeps getting you into trouble, too.” He reminded her with a gentle kiss, his hands sliding down to her waist. Riley smiled up at him, bright and beautiful, and he knew he couldn’t deny her anything. Her parents had spoiled their only child, and Terry nurtured that spirit, indulging her in every way. She’d run all over him if he let her, which is why their little “checks and balances” system was necessary.

"Let me see what we’re working with," He tugged her closer by her arms, brushing off her protests as he lifted the oversized T-shirt to her waist, eager to examine his handiwork. She’d soaked in an oatmeal bath for half an hour, but her butt was still welted, bearing the marks of his handprints.

"Damn, baby, I really did a number on you."

Riley propped herself up on her elbows. "I'm fine," she assured him softly. "I needed it." The release had allowed her to shed the tension that had built up over the past week, though her body was still aching.

“Let me go ahead and put some cream on that for you,” he insisted.

Earlier, she'd brushed off his offer, insisting it hurt too much and that waiting until after her bath would be best. She groaned, realizing she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Terry was all about that aftercare—always checking to make sure she was genuinely okay. He reached into the bedside drawer, pulled out the tube of homemade cream—a mix of shea butter and aloe vera gel—and then settled in behind her.

He knelt on his haunches, positioned between her legs while she buried her face in the sheets. She heard the cap pop open, followed by the sound of his hands rubbing together to warm the cream.

She hissed as he began to work magic, his touch gentle but precise.

Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could easily picture his arms flexing as he kneaded her skin. He was as skilled as any professional massage therapist. She never questioned where he’d learned that skill or how he’d perfected it. She preferred to remain ignorant. The thought of him using those hands on other women, touching them the same way, drove her up the wall.

That primal instinct constantly gnawed at her, igniting an ugly possessiveness she couldn’t rein in.

The last time they went on a dinner date, she was convinced the older woman at the table next to them was intentionally dropping her napkin just to get Terry to keep picking it up. That lady took every opportunity to touch his hands, leaning in way too close for comfort. It didn’t take all that just to say 'thank you'.

Afterward, she told him she never wanted to go back, pretending it was because the tables were too close together. The truth was, she felt too embarrassed to admit she was jealous of someone old enough to be her grandma for no good reason.

Then there were the young women who couldn’t resist trying their luck. The same girls she grew up with at church would ask, “Terry, can you bring my donations in for me? They’re so heavy. Terry, can you carry these cakes in? Terry, will you come out to the car and grab these cans of soda?”

They knew damn well they were dragging their own donations in before he started showing up. So she made it a point to lag behind on Sunday mornings. They wouldn’t be late, but they also wouldn’t arrive early enough for anyone to take advantage.

And don’t get her started on the women at the grocery store; they were the absolute worst!

They’d whisper and watch Terry as he walked through the aisles. He’d bend down and reach for everything Riley pointed out, completely oblivious to their lingering. They clustered around when he loaded up the cart with water. It drove her so crazy that she eventually started ordering her groceries for pickup, insisting he unload them at home.

All that fine was for her eyes only.

Gradually, the burning sting began to subside. What had felt like a raging fire now simmered down to a dull, tender ache. “Feel better?” he asked, kissing the back of her neck. “Mhm,” she hummed lazily, on the verge of falling asleep.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I'm supposed to look after you. You don’t need to thank me for that.” She had a way of bringing out his softer side, making him feel more tender than he ever planned to be. “You had it coming, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”

“I told you I’m fine, baby.”

"Doesn't mean I can't kiss it better."

She bit her lip, wishing he would finally grant her the one request she’d been making all day. The waiting felt like a tightrope walk—teetering on the edge of cruel and unusual punishment.

“But I gotta make sure I’ve got all my bases covered first," he said as he helped her onto her hands and knees, applying gentle pressure to her back until she arched.

Slivers of light filtered through the closed blinds, bouncing off her moisturized, glossy skin. He watched, enthralled, as her hips swayed back and forth, fueled by all that pent-up energy. He couldn’t look away from the swollen, soft pink. 

"Yeah, I’mma make it all better with a kiss." He pledged, carefully using both of his hands to part her open before pressing a gentle kiss against her slit. She panted, heart racing as he kissed her pussy the same way he kissed her lips��slow and sensual, taking his sweet time before sliding his tongue in.

He teased her with his words in between.

"You always taste so good."

"I missed this pussy while I was away."

"It's all I could think about."

"Such a sweet girl, baby."

Riley jolted forward, squealing in surprise when the tip of his tongue brushed her sensitive clit. “Don’t move,” He instructed sternly, grabbing hold of the back of her thighs. His tongue lavished her wet pussy as she squirmed; warm, wet, methodical, and engineered to drive her wild. Terry was such a fucking menace.

"Wait a second, baby," She tried to gather herself, groaning and shifting her hips, as if another moment would make his teasing any easier to endure. She bit her lip to stifle her sounds, but he wasn't having that. Terry wrapped his arms under her legs until he had her firmly secured.

"What did I say?" She struggled against his grip but found it was iron-tight. "Don't run from me," He warned like he didn't already have her pinned down and at his mercy.

He took full advantage of her vulnerable position, zeroing in on her puffy clit, sucking, licking, and devouring her like a starved man. She clawed at his hands, but it was useless.

“Oh God!" She gasped, convinced he was one of the devil’s soldiers, sent to torment and steal her soul. Nothing else made sense. She’d never met a man so skilled and deliberate in driving her insane. 

“You good, baby?” She heard the smirk in his voice, certain that this was some new form of torture. The only time she caught a break was when he took a second to breathe, and even then, he was right back at it, pushing her limits all over again. His mouth was even more skilled than his hands, working her over soft and deliberate until she was trembling.

Terry was indeed a fucking menace, but she was his willing prey, moaning that it was too much while pushing her hips back for more. Her essence dripped onto his tongue and down his chin, sweet and sticky like ripe mango.

"I'm gonna come!" She wailed, grinding against his face.

Terry pawed at her butt, a surge of aggression washing over him. It took everything not to spank her ass some more. He stuffed his face where she wanted it, letting her ride his tongue until she creamed all over it.

“Shit!” she screamed, collapsing forward as her hips jerked uncontrollably. 

The sound of his shorts falling to the floor faded into the background as blood rushed to her ears, drowning out everything else. Before she realized it, he flipped her onto her back, placing one pillow under her head and another beneath her back to ease the pressure on her bottom. He lifted her hips, positioning himself to slide between her legs.

The tip of his dick leaked as he stroked it, grunting softly as he tried to mentally prepare for the tight fit. Her pussy was still clenching down on nothing, hungry for something more.

“Come ‘ere,” Riley urged, pulling him down to her lips for a deep kiss and moaning wantonly as she tasted herself. She wrapped her arms and legs tight around Terry’s large frame, grinding down against his hard dick. Her chest felt tight with emotions that were too intense.

I love you to death. You mean everything to me. I need you.

Terry could ask her to do just anything in that moment, and she’d say yes without a second thought. She’d agree to have ten children if that's what he wanted. She wanted a permanent connection, something to bind them together forever—a family of their own.

"You ready for more, pretty girl?"

"I'll take whatever you give me," She promised softly, laser-focused on his big dick as he teased at her entrance. She was fatigued, but finally getting what she had been fantasizing about all week. Deep brown skin, mesmerizing hazel eyes, and a strong, muscular build that could surround her completely.

Her face contorted, brows furrowed and mouth agape as he pushed in. Terry pressed his face into her neck, letting out a soft groan as she ran her fingers soothingly along his back. "I love you," she confessed, unable to contain the emotion any longer as he began to move his hips.

Terry could barely think straight with her squeezing him so tightly, but he managed to work up to a steady rhythm, gently pushing and pulling until he was fully sheathed inside her. Riley gripped his arms for dear life as he occupied every inch of her.

“Can’t believe you thought I was giving this to somebody else,” He let out a loud grunt, thrusting deep. "I already got my hands full with you, baby."

Riley was his own little slice of heaven, perfectly crafted just for him. He never imagined he could love someone so deeply that being apart from her felt like he was missing a limb. As he slipped into her, he remembered how she had accused him of cheating when she was the only thing on his mind. Her sweet magnolia scent and those beautiful brown eyes—she was his master, and she didn’t even realize it.

"Fuck me," She ordered with the urgency of a drill sergeant, grabbing his ass and pushing him deeper. She wanted him buried inside of her. “That feels so good.” She growled out.

“Keep fucking me, just like that.”

"Fuck this tight pussy, Daddy.”

“I missed this dick so fucking much.”

“I’ve been thinking about it everyday.”

She didn’t usually speak that way, but something was taking over her, making the vulgar words spill from her lips effortlessly.

It had taken all his restraint not to give in to her earlier, but it was worth it for this moment. The way her heat molded around him, fitting him perfectly as she clung to him, desperate and wanton.

“You’re being so rough with me, baby!” she exclaimed, though there was no hint of complaint. Terry was manhandling her like a ragdoll, and she loved every second of it. Watching such a disciplined man lose control over her was exhilarating.

Terry tried to restrain his darker urges around her, but she was so beautiful when she cried. It only fueled his hunger, driving him to be even more aggressive. She clawed at his back, yelling out when his balls smacked her tender ass.

“I wanna have your baby, Daddy.” Riley confessed with tears in her eyes. She knew she had to be losing her mind, but she meant every word.

Terry’s hips faltered. “What did you just say?”

“I want to give you a baby. I want us to have a baby together. Can we, please?”

Every conversation they’d had about having children had ultimately come down to the understanding that they needed to be married first before starting a family. The pullout method, however dangerous, had worked for them thus far. He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted out of him. "I want to be the one to give you a baby, Daddy. The only one.”

Terry cursed, struggling to keep his composure. His own mind was foggy with love and lust. Her parents would be furious if he got her pregnant before marriage, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. They could go ring shopping tomorrow and then apply for the marriage license right after. It was just paperwork—he already knew how he felt.

“You for real?” He imagined her big and round, pregnant and filled with his child. Relying on him to help her tie her shoes or assemble a crib for their child.

"Yes!" she replied eagerly, her eyes shining with desire.

“You want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes, I’m ready to have all your babies, Daddy.” Babies? She always had to take it a step further. The bare minimum was never enough for her. She was utterly spoiled, and their children would undoubtedly be the same.

“How am I supposed to turn you down when you ask so sweet?” Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck as he let out a low growl. “If you want my baby, you’re gonna have to be a really good girl and keep that pussy open for me.”

“If you keep giving it to me good, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’ll cum deep in that creamy pussy and give you a baby.”

She was so wet that everything felt slick, her brown eyes glazed over with desire. He knew he should try to be the responsible one, but all he could think about was filling her womb and giving her the beautiful baby she was begging him for. “Tell me you’re mine,” he says, gripping her neck firmly, leaving her breathless.

“I-," The doorbell rings, and it takes her a few moments to process the sound. Terry doesn’t stop, sweat dripping down his face and onto her skin, mixing with hers. It’s as if he’s in a trance, unable to concentrate on anything but his mission.

“Oh my God,” she cries, pushing at his firm stomach for when he strikes a particularly sensitive spot inside of her. Terry forced her up the bed with each powerful motion of his hips, fucking her harder and deeper than he ever had before.

“Relax. It's probably the food," He crooned, brushing her hands aside. "I’ll get it, but I need to give you my baby first.”

“Oh my God,” She braced herself as the pressure built in her belly. Terry was driving himself deep and hard in her pussy like he had a point to prove. He really wanted that baby. With her eyes closed shut, Riley surrendered, pinching and pulling on her nipples until she was soaking Terry and the sheets beneath them. He held her down, ensuring she couldn’t escape as he flooded her with cum.

“Oh my god,” she repeated incessantly, like a broken record. All of his weight settled on top of her, their foreheads touching. She gazed into his eyes, the realization of what they had just done beginning to sink in. She didn’t have any regrets; she was eager to claim him as hers forever. Excited to nurture a child who represented the best of each of them.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss that lingered as if he were trying to memorize the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, it was with reluctance, his gaze locked on hers. He couldn’t find any hint of regret in her eyes, and he certainly didn’t have any himself.

"Thank you, Daddy." She cooed, reaching down to stroke her clit. He watched, entranced as their slick oozed out of her. It felt like he was hardwired for it, instinctively wanting to fill her up again and push in deep. “Whatever happens next, I’m gonna take care of you.” He vowed, his warm hand pressing gently on her belly. He silently prayed for a favorable outcome, hoping it would lead to a little baby in the next ten months.

She brushed the sweat from his forehead with the back of her hand. “I know. I love you and trust you completely. I really want us to be a family.”

“We will be,” he said with a conviction that tugged at her heartstrings.

The doorbell rang again.

“The food,” she reminded him, gently pushing him back before they got too caught up in the moment. She needed a moment to catch her breath anyway. The tension between them was smoldering.

He cursed under his breath as he reluctantly pulled away, picking up his shorts from the floor and then his wallet from the dresser. She heard the faint sound of the door alarm as the front door opened, followed by quiet voices conversing while she stared up at the ceiling.

Her heavy eyelids fluttered shut. There was no way she'd be able to go to work in the morning.

Terry eventually shuffled back into the room, holding the tied bag in his large hands like a prized catch. “Come on. Let’s put something else in your belly before you knock out on me.”

Thoughts? Lol 😂

Tagging the people who asked for a second installment:

@sageispunk @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @planetblaque

[reiden]

we bring our fantasy to life | s.hinata

Hinata has a habit of spoiling you, not only when it comes to material possessions, but with anything you wish for. And you should really thank him for it. It's only right, you think.

cw: 18+, f!reader, oral (male receiving) 

— ✦

The wind chime that hangs out on your balcony twinkles in a sweet tune, the sound drifting into your apartment along with the rays of the early morning sun. Hinata brought it back for you from Brazil; it's made of bells hidden inside of seashells, carved pieces of glass, and twine. It's charming in its own right, but it means more because he bought it for you. (It was the first thing he got with his first ever paycheck as a delivery boy, and he had messaged you about it too.)

You think he's always been too willing with you. Hinata always indulges you, perhaps more than he should. You try to gently chide him into not spoiling you so much, try telling him that he doesn't need to get you a gift whenever the urge strikes him; Hinata never really listens, just takes your lighthearted scolding with red ears and a sheepish smile. 

You can't really complain anyway — you quite like knowing he's thinking of you. 

As you lay beneath your comforter, head sinking into your pillows, you reach out a hand and trace a line down Hinata's bicep, following the curve of his muscle. The years he spent in Brazil turned him into someone new; he had come back to you stronger, bigger. He had come back with his instincts sharper and his smile wider, and his love for you nearly tripled, it seems. Something squeezes and shudders in your chest as you watch the subtle ways his face shifts in his sleep. His lashes brush the apples of his cheeks and his lips are parted slightly, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He's every bit as endearing asleep as he is awake — and you can hardly believe he's yours.

It's a strange position to be in: to date someone with so much fame. The world is watching his every move and, by extension, they are watching yours too. Hinata never shies away from speaking about you; he posts you on social media, takes you out on dates. And people talk — of course they do. Everyone has opinions on everything and your relationship with Hinata is no exception to that. Some of them think you're too plain for a pro-athlete, especially one as prolific as Hinata Shouyou. Sometimes, you start to believe them. 

Hinata is every bit willing to give you the world, should you ask for it. And while you're willing to do the same for him, he would be able and you could only ever make a good-faith attempt. You can tell him time and time again how enamoured you are by him, how grateful you are to have him; Shouyou, thank you. Shouyou, what would I do without you? Shouyou, I love you. 

It doesn't really measure up — not in your eyes, anyway. (Hinata insists otherwise but you're allowed to disagree with him sometimes.)

Shouyou," you whisper, shuffling closer. He's so warm — you can feel the steady thrum of his heart beating as you slot your head in the crook of his neck. "Are you awake?" 

And then: "I love you." 

You bring your arm up and curl it under your head, the other skims up his shoulder and curves over his neck. You can feel his body moving with each cyclical breath; you wait for him to wake up. Some part of you wants to shake him awake, but you imagine he has several good things to dream about, and you'd hate to interrupt. 

The longer you stare, the harder it becomes for you to be patient. 

Hinata had returned a little over a month ago. You'd been expecting him for the whole week before he came back home, cleaning and reorganising your apartment, repeatedly checking your reflection in every mirror you pass by. You suspect that he'd wanted to surprise you, but — as with most things concerning you and him — he'd agreed to your whims and filled you in on all the details. You had waited for him at the airport when he'd arrived, and you had cried in his arms (which, you had immediately noted, had gotten much bigger in the time you'd spent apart) while he tried to soothe the ache of a wound that could finally begin to heal.

He'd called you every single night and yet, when he had you in his arms once more, Hinata had so much more to say. And you'd listened — hanging off of every word like missing even a second of him would break you. 

You remember how he was bouncing his leg in the taxi back to your place; you had assumed it was just his excitement to be back home. That could have only been half of it — he'd been more excited to get his hands on you. 

And as soon as the both of you stumbled past the front door, as soon as you had turned to welcome him home with a coy smile, Hinata was kissing you. He spent the next few hours simply learning your body once more: he'd mapped his love onto your skin long ago and now, he was retracing his steps, finding all the ways to make you squirm, whine, plead and beg. Embarrassingly, you were nothing more than a dazed mess at the end of it. 

"You're always so sensitive, baby." 

The memory of him rasping those words into the shell of your ear has you growing even more impatient. Involuntarily, your thighs press together; the ghost of his touch along your skin is fleeting — if you close your eyes, you can still feel it.

He must feel your insistent stare. Hinata stirs awake slowly, stretching his arms out first before his eyes even peel open. You watch with your smile hidden behind your hand as he fights sleep, finally meeting your softened gaze. 

"Good morning," you say first, lovelorn as you watch him smile. 

Hinata typically wakes up earlier than you. His schedule is a lot stricter than yours, and his discipline is stronger than yours as well. His body is used to waking up in tandem with the sunrise — you prefer to wait until the rays of sun greet you. But he's been given some time off, a short break to recuperate, and for once, Hinata had slept in with you. "Morning," he says, quietly though not cheerfully. His voice is gritty from the hours of sleep and the sound only lights a flame in your stomach. 

You make your move then, not wanting to delay it any longer. Hinata's watching you curiously as you shift over him, and make room for yourself between his legs. The soft wrinkle between his brows, the way he's watching you so intently, only makes that flame grow as it begins to burn brighter. 

He doesn't seem to put two-and-two together until your hands are sliding down his stomach, feeling the ridges of his well-trained muscles. 

"Hey..." he laughs, the sound coming out breathy and soft, touched with a kind of disbelief he shouldn't still have. It's almost as if Hinata can't believe he has you in the same way you can't believe you have him. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reply, fingers curling into the waistband of his shorts. You tug at it, lowering it down his hips and his thighs. The way Hinata hisses at the cool air has a shiver rushing down the length of your spine. "I didn't think you'd be hard already," you accompany your words with a soft snicker. 

Hinata whines in response, his hips chasing your fingers as they withdraw from him. "How could I not be? You're so hot—" his voice catches in his throat when you press your hand down on his thigh, thumb tracing his tan line. "Baby, please." You can imagine him now, standing on the sandy beaches of Rio De Janeiro, each grain easily felt beneath his bare feet. He must have been a sight to behold: sun-kissed skin, sweat perspiring on his forehead and over his back, mouth stretched into a self-assured grin. 

You’re jealous, really — you should’ve been there too. It’s easy to picture him there, basking in the sunlight; the fact that others had gotten to see him like that stoked the fire burning in the cavity of your stomach. 

“Can’t believe you woke me up just to tease,” Hinata pouts, sleep lacing his voice and making it sound almost stuck in his throat. He shifts his weight around, squirming as you skim your nails up his thighs.

You don't dignify him with a response. Hinata sucks in a sharp breath, "Where'd this come from anyway, huh?" 

"Just felt like it," you hum, kneeling between his thighs. You place your hands on his hips, squeeze once, and then smooth your palms up his sides. 

Hinata's skin is hot under your wandering touch. He's been good and kept his hands at his sides — an accomplishment for him considering how much he enjoys taking any and every opportunity to touch you. He stares down at you with a darkened gaze, his need for you written clearly in the deep brown of his irises. It's a look you've seen before, and one you will never tire of; it tugs at something deep inside of you, in the same way a puppeteer manipulates and pulls at the strings of his creations. You fall right in and you always give in. 

Your hand curls around the base of his shaft — finally, finally — and Hinata hisses once more. He's jumpy already, hips bucking into your hand as you massage the skin. The sound of your name falling from his lips only encourages you to increase your pace; his legs jolt beneath your free hand. 

Hinata's an eager lover. He's always yearning, hoping for more. When you're with him you truly feel desired, even at your worst of times. Your scent, your touch, your voice — this is all he knows. A low groan rumbles deep inside of his chest when you bend down, your soft lips wrapping around the head of his cock. You don't think he's really thinking when he jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your mouth. 

You're breathing through your nose, fighting the urge to gag when you feel him hit the back of your throat. And you keep him there, nose pressed flush against his pubic bone where you can smell his minty body wash. 

"Move— please—" Hinata grunts. His fingers twist into the sheets at the same time you moan around his cock, and his hips lurch forward. "C'mon, baby." There's an edge to his voice, a warning simmering beneath the begging. Hinata knows how to hold himself back but his restraint is only so strong, and once the threads begin to fray, it's only a matter of seconds before he snaps. 

But that isn't exactly an unfavourable outcome. 

You hum around him once more. Hinata shivers. He mutters a curse under his breath, your nails dig into his thighs, and then his fingers are tangling themselves in your hair. His palm is insistent when it pushes down on the crown of your head, but he waits to move. Instead, he looks down at you with a silent question: Is this okay?

Your answer comes in the form of your tongue laving around him, running up and along the underside of his cock. It's all the answer he needs, really, and you go lax in his grip as he tugs you forward. Hinata pulls at your hair, manoeuvres you exactly where he wants you. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone, like he's apologising for pulling your hair and causing you pain. 

(Not that he needs to — the feeling of hurt blooming under your scalp had sent heat searing down your body, and right between your legs. Hinata's looking down at you like he knows it; he's wearing a wicked grin.)

He guides you, bobbing your head up and down in tandem with each purposeful thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter, going half-mast, and all you can really do is stare up at him through your lashes; your eyes glisten with tears that have yet to fall. Hinata's movements are stunned and he wrinkles the bedding beneath you both as he moves. You try your best to rub your tongue over him in a way he can appreciate, suck sloppily around the base of his shaft before he's pulling you off again. Every noise is lewd, obscene, and when he pushes in too deep, you're not able to stifle the way you gag and your throat tightens around him. 

Hinata's quick to pull back, "Fuck, I'm sorry." But he doesn't sound quite as guilty as his big, brown eyes make him out to be — and the noise is not nearly as offending as it would have been in any other context. 

You let him use you; it's the least you can do, you think, for the way he treats you like you are the moon and stars. And it's not all one-sided, if the way your arousal pools between your thighs says anything. He's trembling and your heart is racing. "Shit— I'm gonna come," Hinata pants quietly.

You want him to, you really, really do. So you hollow out your cheeks and you suck harder, the tip of your tongue tracing a vein that circles around his cock. You can feel him pulsing in your mouth, tongue catching along the dip of his tip. Hinata lets out a shuddering breath that wanes into a weak moan, his cheeks flushed. You swallow around him and plant your hands firmly on his thighs. 

He comes with a strangled whine, bending his neck back and into the pillows. The taste of him floods your senses but you ignore the twang as you swallow, like it's second-nature. Hinata's hand falls from your hair, and he's looking down at you with a lovesick smile; you don't let up — not yet.

At least, you had planned not to but the hand cupping your cheek moves down to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulls you off of him. His cock is shiny with your spit, a thin strand of saliva following your mouth as you break away from him. 

"You're perfect, you know that?" he asks, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with ease. "So pretty — my pretty girl." Hinata pulls you into a searing kiss, lips meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, anticipation filling your chest; it feels electric as it sparks down your arms and down your legs, static in your fingertips. 

Hinata runs a hand down the curve of your spine, trailing his finger along the hem of your panties. He's not taking them off like you want him to, and you can't pull away to tell him to either. He keeps you in place with his free hand around your nape. 

You weren't supposed to get this far. The morning was meant to start and end with Hinata — it was about your appreciation for him. And yet, he's indulging you once again as you squirrel around in his lap. His laugh warms in your chest and your heart swells. You feel Hinata hook his fingers into your underwear, pulling them clean off in a matter of a few seconds. 

He throws you around with ease. Your back hits the mattress, your head sinking into the pillows he had been laying on moments ago. Hinata hovers over you, his eyes glancing all over your body and your face, as if he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is sinister and the way his mouth twitches into a smirk has goosebumps erupting all over your skin. 

"I think I need to return the favour," he sighs, trailing fervent kisses down your neck just to get to the sensitive spot below your ear. You can feel Hinata smile against your skin when you mewl in response to his gentle bite. 

Your hands meet his bare chest, as though you're about to push him away. Maybe you should, he's giving in to you like he always does. But you don't and instead, you loop your arms around his neck, letting them slide off of him as your hands dig into his hair. Hinata moves down your body. "Shouyou — I was trying to thank you," you whisper, watching him press a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder, much to Hinata's visible delight. 

"You can thank me like this too," he simply replies, teeth sinking into the fat of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, thoughts scattering quick like skittish animals. 

You hadn't thought about it until now — staring down at Hinata as his breath ghosts over your cunt. There's a faraway look in his eyes, his nails dig into your thighs, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so content. 

Maybe, when he indulges you, he's indulging himself too. 

[starvu]

My Heart Won't Start Anymore || s. reid

where you were always, always there for spencer, but after what happened with maeve you couldn't handle it anymore, you felt betrayed

pairing: spencer reid x bau member!gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst/hurt

content warnings: mention of spencer's addiction, mention of his being shot in the knee, reader was once shot in the stomach, mentions of blood, fairly graphic description of maeve's death, maeve wasn't spencer's girlfriend, but they had feelings, that's for sure, bitter ending (inspired by "you're losing me" ts)

word count: 9,1k

a/n: i described the whole line from s2 to s8 here, i didn't even know i could write that much lol. and i haven't written that much yet, it was a bit of a weird concept and i couldn't put everything into words, but I wanted to write it so much (i suck at dialogue, sorry). i spent like nine hours today only in notes app and writing this, im kinda insane. i won't be posting any more work this year, so i hope your new year will be happy 😽

~

You would never have thought it would end like this. No, no... no. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

No.

You were always each other's support, comfort, comfort. When you joined the BAU, you were just a young girl, full of ambition and hope, joyful and smiling with sprinkles in your eyes, but also a lost girl. Lost in a new environment and new circumstances.

No need to mention that you were a people pleaser who only wanted to be noticed... right?

Of course, you were prepared for such a job, but damn, you didn't expect this. What they learned in training and at the academy was nothing compared to what you had been working on since day one. Theory was just a sliver of practice, yes, it was brutal, but in real work, the same theory seemed like a sugar-coated story with sprinkles. It didn't connect in any way.

But Spencer wanted to help you. He really, genuinely wanted to help you. He wasn't that much older, well, no, you were the same age, actually. He wasn't overly effusive or outgoing, but he wanted you to settle in, and you appreciated that. He was awkward, very awkward, more interested in facts than people, and not really good at social interactions, and your good attitude made him a little intimidated when he first saw you and you eagerly greeted him, introducing yourself.

He wasn't sure what you would find nice and was afraid of imposing, so he did little things like bring you fresh coffee from that not-so-great coffee machine, sometimes gave you little tips about team members, sometimes helped you when your casework was limited to sifting through tedious piles of files tied with string, the letters already shimmering before your eyes and blurring into black spots.

That's why when he went through his own hell, held captive by Tobias Hankel and drugged, you felt the need to help him. You couldn't explain it, but... no, you could actually explain it. You always wanted to help everyone and spread your smile. A smile that didn't fit the job, a smile that was the opposite of the brutality you saw in the job, and only that smile allowed you to keep your sanity.

Hey, do you know that you'll even lose your spark and the twinkle in your eyes?

You felt plain, simple, and human sympathy for him. His addiction problem was one of those ignored ones. You all swept it under the rug, almost like the whole team suddenly had blinkers on and lived in a conspiracy of silence, even if you didn't state it out loud. That just hadn't happened in the history of this team, even if you had noticed Spencer's daily highs. There was nothing wrong with the young genius's mind, after all. More or less.

You hadn't known him very long, but you knew it had little to do with his everyday behavior. Even if you only knew him for a few months before, he couldn't act like this and you noticed that everyone outside the team noticed his behavior as well, which Hotch could always justify because 'Dr. Reid isn't at his best right now'.

Funny how reputation and lack of complications from the people above were more important than Reid's well-being.

Funny how Reid's well-being has become more important to you than your own.

You acted somewhat on your own, you tried to help Spencer, even if he rejected help, he was elusive. He closed himself off, he practically dismissed his problem on his own. And maybe you were a little intrusive, yes, you were aware of it, but how else were you supposed to act in such a situation?

And surprisingly, you succeeded. He didn't look kindly on your actions, but he stopped dismissing you coldly. Your actions were happening behind the team's back, you didn't want to expose yourself as a newbie to something that wouldn't be approved of. If this whole situation is going on behind the backs of the people at the top, why couldn't you go behind the backs of the team?

You took care of him, at least as much as he allowed you. You didn't want to overdo it, but you tried. You didn't force him to do anything, but you still tried everything that could replace the dilaudid, you spent more time with him than was appropriate just to distract him from needing another dose. and when he stopped taking the drug, you were there to help him through the withdrawal symptoms, although withdrawal was the hardest. You were understanding and respected him despite everything, even if it was a difficult and overwhelming experience. You could say that it left a mark on you, however you wouldn't admit it. You just piled on the stress and nerves. It wasn't easy by any means, but you didn't have the heart to leave him.

You never had the heart to leave him.

Or at least that's what you thought.

Anyway, you were there for him.

~

He also felt a spark of sympathy for you when you cared so much for him, because you didn't let up or ignore the problem. He finally felt a little different, other than a drugged-up piece of trash. Someone really wanted to be with him, to suffer especially for him and at some point with him.

You knew that a spark of understanding was being born between you over the years. A spark of something warm, like friendship. Your friendship was close, there was something special and magical about it. He trusted you. He trusted you and opened up to you, he felt exposed to his emotions but he didn't feel bad about it. It wasn't often that he felt this way about anyone, you were important to him.

Sometimes Penelope joked that you were glued together, because wherever Spencer was, you were too, within a radius of a few meters and no further. If you think about it, the sweet, sweet technical analyst wasn't wrong at all, in fact, she was right. Likewise, Derek, who would laugh and sometimes tease you about your glued hips, you dismissed it as bullshit.

You were sitting in her darkened computer lab, your seat was a little lower, so you rested your head on the desk. The quiet hum of computers came from the computer lab. You didn't have much work, so you sat together and talked about things that helped you forget about the hardships and darkness of work for a while. You matched each other with your rather cheerful personalities. You were sipping from plastic cups through colorful straws some overly sweet tea that Penelope had brought earlier. You weren't even sure what kind of tea it was, some brewed herbs with a lavender aftertaste. In any case, it was tasty.

You laughed. "Pen no. There's no match here..."

She stared at you with clear disappointment and determination, she interrupted you suddenly. "Listen, it's in the stars. I beg you, can't you feel it?"

You shook your head slightly. "Penelope. I really love you and appreciate you, but this is a bunch of bullshit. What kind of match in the stars? Just because you, as a fetus, decided to be born on this day and not another, doesn't mean you have a fantastic love match with anyone." You took a sip of tea, but you were still staring at the blonde analyst.

"I'm not just talking about the stars here. It's the whole match, similar vibes, agreement and..." She continued to justify herself when Spencer suddenly entered the computer room with two warm coffees.

"Garcia, there's extra foam and vanilla syrup for you." He put the coffee on the desk. "Here." He looked at you. "They didn't have any almond milk, so I got lactose-free." He put down the second coffee and looked at you apologetically. "Is it okay?"

You just nodded slightly with a warm smile. "Yes, thank you."

Garcia watched your interaction, then took a sip of coffee, she finished her tea earlier. "It's still warm!" She interrupted enthusiastically, and Spencer nodded with her lips pressed into a line, a sign of confirmation.

After a moment he was gone from the computer room, leaving he made his awkward gesture waving at you with his hand, or rather sticking it out motionlessly, and you followed him with your eyes to the door.

On Penelope's face there was an incomprehensible, slightly too wide smile, she looked at you with excitement. "Oh God, it's look of love! Real look of love!"

You sighed. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." She continued to chatter happily, not straying from this topic even for a moment.

Penelope believed in the emotional tension between you, personality matching, and other such endearing things that you didn't quite believe in. You hated breaking the worldview of your favorite glitter and pink analyst.

~

When Spencer was shot in the knee and temporarily annihilated, you also tried to help him, although you were more likely to scold him then. What kind of brainless person wanted to ignore all doctor's orders just to fly with the rest of the team to the crime scenes. Second opinion? More like mindless, idiotic and stupid chatter. You wanted to hit him in the back of the head every time he tried to figure out how to avoid being grounded any longer, and even his doctorate couldn’t convince you to implement gentler measures. You didn't have the strength to fight him and you wanted to shoot him in the knee again, but it was out of concern, as strange as it might sound.

But despite his thoughtlessness, you were there for him then too.

~

You could say that you spent a lot of time together, often aimlessly, you could sit up all night and talk nonsense and in the end Spencer would let you drink coffee from his mug, and after difficult cases he was the one who tried to comfort you, your radiance and optimism could not be eternal and unwavering, and you baked his favorite cookies with brown sugar and sea salt. It was as if his worries suddenly disappeared, he spoke freely about whatever interested him without being suddenly silenced or dismissed, and strangest of all, even his aversion to germs was then a secondary matter.

You didn't see anything special about it, unlike anyone else around you. Yeah, you were a bit blinded by each other and sometimes the rest of the team felt like they were just getting in the way when they were around you. They felt like they were intruding on your little moments, your exchanges of glances and incomprehensible gestures.

They all felt that something happening, except you two.

And did it bother anyone? It was fine as it was.

Four years just flew by and you changed, not for the worse, change doesn't have to be bad... or something. You couldn't have peace. Day by day you felt more and more strange, not like usual, definitely not like usual, something was wrong, why were you suddenly stressed by his presence, and why did your nerves almost always get the better of you? You didn't show it, but this feeling started to annoy you. And you were a bit excluded, because there was one thought you didn't even consider, it didn't get into your tangle of thoughts, it just didn't. Or maybe it got into the center of your thoughts, and you cleverly avoided it with full awareness? Either way, when one day at work you were staring at him with your chin resting on your hand, probably looking at him from every possible and potential angle, a sudden realization finally hit you.

Oh.

oh.

It was a little different from friendship. Okay, maybe it was very different from friendship. You missed him faster than you thought, you almost felt anxious when he wasn't around and and you felt those nerves when he appeared next to you and you wanted his unwavering attention and you tried to justify it in every way, as friendship, friendly concern, natural nervous reaction towards loved ones, friendly... blah, blah, blah.

You felt attached to Spencer Reid and infatuated with him. To the same Specter who supported you from the beginning, he remembered what your favorite coffee was, he remembered the little details that made you you, showed you care in the same way you showed him care, he wasn't tired of you usually being full of energy and a little too emotional and were your precious friends. You couldn't say you expected it, but you couldn't say you didn't either.

You were in trouble.

Technically, you didn't have to tell him, but on the other hand you had a hard time keeping your mouth shut. You had to work up the courage to tell him. For God's sake, for half a year you'd felt like throwing up just thinking about that conversation. This could be good, or you could have ruined everything. You couldn't be sure he felt the same way, maybe he was just nice (and the fact that your stomach was tingling and your throat was dry and you just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it until you couldn't breathe was a side effect). Too nice. Being nice was never a bad thing, but it made you unable to fully read his intentions.

With shame in your mind, you admitted to yourself that you were observing him much more closely than usual, to investigate his behavior, no matter how stupid it seemed. This case really made an idiot out of you.

One night you were staring at the ceiling in your not too big bedroom and exchanging meaningless conversations, as he carefully ran his long fingers through your hair and occasionally glanced at you. There was a lamp on the nightstand, which gave off a rather shady, flickering light. You should have replaced that bulb. The rest of the light coming into the bedroom was the moonlight, carefully trying to get in through the window, thanks to the open curtains and blinds. The bright moonlight was more shy, though.

You finally, with heavy heart decided to talk to him about it.

This wasn't a good idea, trust me.

You tried to play it cool, even as you swallowed hard and your shaking hands were hidden only by the dim light of your bedroom.

"Umm... Spence." The usual certainty suddenly disappeared from your voice. “You know, there’s this thing.”

He immediately turned his head towards you, now in addition to his unwavering attention you had his gaze as well. "Did something serious happen?" He wasn't the best at talking about emotions, but, as befits a profiler, he read them well.

"Not really. I mean, yes, but no." You swallowed hard. "Depends."

He didn't want to rush you, force you to talk or annoy you. "Okay, no rush." Despite that, he felt a growing curiosity and a bit of stress. You rarely took that tone.

Suddenly you felt his hand no longer in your hair. Instead, he squeezed your hand gently in his, assuring you that everything was okay. The gesture, combined with your nerves, made you feel like you might as well cry. It was a gesture that you had considered nice and didn’t object to, but now it was confusing you even more.

It was now or never.

“I think I love you. No, it's not 'I think', I’m convince. Yeah, I'm convince."

Pretty nice, but you won't be the only one saying it.

He didn’t answer right away, only because he always had the feeling he’d ruin everything the moment he started talking about feelings. But he squeezed your hand tighter and didn’t take his eyes off you, his hazel, puppy eyes fixed on you. His voice lacked confidence, he hesitated for a moment, he asked quietly. "Can I?" You nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a moment, you felt his lips on yours. It was soft, tender and sweet. You had waited so long for this, and his absolute gentleness and feelings melted your heart without the slightest problem. You felt like you were the only people in the world, especially since everything around you was quiet and calm that night, practically intimate without the actual intimacy. Life just happened and you were somewhere in between, not in a rush. You always had to be rushing somewhere after all.

The conclusion from his actions was one. He felt the same way. You thanked all the gods and heavens for that. You didn't even want to think about the disaster that would happen if he didn't reciprocate your feelings and you had to keep working together, not to mention the tragic ending of your friendship. But at that moment, besides your still shaking hands, something else was hiding in the darkness - a smile on your face.

Maybe everything wasn't supposed to be so bad.

Oh sweet child, what a stupid impression.

~

It wasn't until you became a couple that you realized how little had changed in your relationship. You weren't sure if it was just too romantic before or too platonic now, but it was pretty much the same thing, with the added bonus of showing affection. Your relationship was built on all these little things and there was never a moment when your heart stopped feeling warm. You were really, really happy with the way things were.

For a short moment you regained some of the sparkle in your eyes, take advantage of it.

If Derek had talked about having your hips glued together before, it was hard to say what it could be called now. It wasn't that you were blabbing about your relationship left and right, in fact the fact that your relationship had even happened had stayed between you for a few weeks. You spent a few evenings off from work wondering what to do with the new label of this relationship. Telling Hotch was one option, and keeping it a secret and hiding it in every way possible was another. Both had their pros and cons, because in theory, a relationship between agents wasn't necessarily indicated, so it was more reasonable to admit it than to have him find out later on his own. Hiding it was also reasonable, considering the nature of your work, the dangerous nature, the possibility that someone might use it someday. Well, you didn't come up with a solution right away.

The fact that Spencer would bring you coffee every morning, or the exchange of small smiles, and the fact that you would sit on the edge of his desk while you talked wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It had happened even before there was anything like a relationship between you.

After a few weeks, you decided and went to Hotch to sort it out and not expose yourselves to any unpleasantness related to your new relationship - a relationship between two agents. Potential risk? Hard to say. But maybe it was better to explain it to him honestly, like adults. After all, it was inadvisable, but not forbidden either.

Spencer squeezed your hand in comfort and leaned towards you. "It'll be okay." The warmth of his hand helped a little and brought you back to earth.

"I take you for granted. And you better be right." You turned to face him for a moment. That sounded like one of your joking threats to Spencer. It wasn't the least bit funny to you at the time.

You entered Hotch's office first, with Spencer right behind you. He was on the phone, but quickly put it away. You took a breath. When his gaze landed on you, you still wanted to turn around, run away, hide and hide. But it was too late. You turned your head slightly towards Spencer. And then you wandered with your gaze wherever you could.

To your surprise, the conversation with Hotch was so... ordinary. You felt quite surprised by this turn of events. None of your theories had panned out. Besides, they had no chance of panning out, it was impossible. You loved to imagine a million versions of a single event in your head, and mostly the worst versions. It clashed with your optimism.

Or maybe that optimism was fading anyway.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye through the window of Hotch's office that Derek, with an expression of obvious defeat written on his face, was giving Penelope a twenty dollar bill as soon as they noticed you two. Penelope had just won a bet of sorts and you felt disbelief, but at the same time a smile was also trying to creep up on your lips. You squeezed Spencer's hand imperceptibly tighter. For a moment you were distracted and focused on Morgan and Garcia. You didn't bring it up, it was just a little stupidity between them, one of many

Your relationship wasn't a big obstacle as long as it didn't affect the team's work, your cooperation in the field, or involve showing romantic feelings at work. 'And no intimate contact!' He even emphasized that a few times, but in an even more professional way. Not that you had any plans and you were an adult, so you shouldn't have been nervous, yet your cheeks and nose suddenly became more rosy. It ended with a few signatures and sending you out of the office with nothing. Overall he said that as long as you are happy, it's good. He went back to talking on the phone and reporting, which were more important to him at the time than such problems with agents.

You and Spencer were there for each other.

~

Everything seemed pretty fine until the headache and sleep problems came. And after it another headache and another headache. Sleep problems were nothing new, they happened every once in a while, but then they became more frequent. You thought it was temporary, caused by stress and fatigue, maybe not drinking enough water and being slightly dehydrated, but it only got worse. Often and routinely. The medication didn't help much, and the tests, head and brain scans showed nothing.

Spencer was almost going crazy thinking that this was early schizophrenia, some stage of the disease and he would end up like his own mother, which was his biggest nightmare. The knowledge that in a dozen or so years he might not remember anything, only have flashes of what he knew, become useless. He wanted to use his full potential. He was supposed to be a genius, to come up with something that would help slow down the progression of his mother's disease, not a useless piece of crap whose life would slip through his fingers because of the cavities in his head.

It had nothing to do with schizophrenia at the end of the day, but it was problematic enough. They were migraines, strong and painful migraines. They didn't seem dangerous in a long run, were not comparable in terms of potential danger to anything related to the disorder he suspected, however they were difficult for Spencer and he was clearly suffering, the sight that broke your heart.

You didn't want to see him like this, you wanted to do everything to make him feel better. You weren't an expert in medicine, but you used the comforting methods you knew to make him feel at least a little better, a little more mundane than the medical ones. You stayed at his apartment a lot more often, slept there a lot more often, to be completely sure about his pain, to help him through sleepless nights, to provide him with some peace. At one point, you practically lived there. Despite your sincere efforts, compresses, warm teas, kisses on the head and careful massaging of his temples, it wasn't enough, maybe it just helped slightly. You really tried and he knew it too, sometimes he even thought and mentioned, that he didn't deserve you.

You wanted to find someone who knew about these kinds of conditions. You knew that Spencer had more contacts and connections because he was in the scientific community, so he could do more, he could take care of himself, but you wanted to do something too. You spent your nights just to find a doctor, a scientist, anyone. This situation wasn't good for you either. Almost every time you worried about Spencer, it took its toll on you. The nerves and helplessness became overwhelming. You yourself experienced headaches, but you just clenched your teeth. It was from exhaustion and you wouldn't admit it. Spencer thought you didn't have to do it, to sacrifice and worry so much, he always reminded you of that.

You were there for him, nothing new.

Wait, sweetheart.

You know you weren't the only one anymore? Really, no one told you?

You were about to give up, thinking that there was no point in searching any longer. More frustration than concern flowed through you. Mostly frustration with yourself. But you found it. You had it. You found a geneticist who could help. You felt enlightened and filled with hope. You hadn't felt this kind of hope in a long time.

There she was.

Dr. Maeve Donovan

You felt convinced, you had a feeling she would be the solution to Spencer's problems. He had no doubts when you suggested that Maeve look at the scans. You sent them by email, but you didn't go into why that was the right way for her. It wasn't your business after all. She had reviewed Spencer's MRI scans of brain, partly to help, partly out of pure scientific interest, he was a brilliant mind after all. Unlike other doctors, she saw the solution in these headaches and sleeping problems. After a few weeks of analysis, she wrote everything down, including recommendations and a prescription for some medications that you knew a little about because of how immersed you were in the whole topic of migraines, insomnia, and even paranoid schizophrenia, despite everything, Spencer knew more about these meds.

~

Months passed. I guess. You were losing count. Something was wrong and you knew it. Not with Spencer, he was slowly getting better and was in less and less pain, he didn't wake up at night as often and he wasn't in more pain during the day. You were relieved to see your beloved getting better, the meds were working, and he was regaining his nerdy drive and commitment to everything. It was a precious sight you had been waiting for.

So you should have been happy, it was wiser not to dig anything up. You didn't have a habit of behaving like that. Since Soencer was acting strange at least, you had to find out what was going on and why he wasn't telling you. He always trusted you, he told you everything, and if he didn't say something, he still mentioned the situation. Now he was avoiding anything that could be related to his behavior. He was nervous, as if stressed, sometimes he would suddenly disappear at Sundays and come back after a few minutes without a word. Later he was a bit concerned, but he tried to get back to reality. And later he would even sneak out during work, when you were with the team in the field. Sometimes you'd see notes and a pen left around his apartment, like he was writing letters. You never tried to read them, but you felt a pang in your heart.

Your intuition wasn't some great mechanism, but it wasn't stupid either. You saw him get even more worked up one afternoon. That was when Maeve told him she loved him. But you were so blissfully unaware that you were in that position. Spencer wasn't a cheater, that much was for sure. He froze for a moment after hearing those words, but he didn't answer her. He thought about what to do with this new awareness, he thought a lot.

When, during one of the cases, after Spencer had a quick conversation with Blake, she gave him a ride somewhere, you felt like something was happening completely behind your back. At least Alex already knew what was going on after she confronted him near the telephone booth. And so she promised him she wouldn't tell anyone, so you remained in unconsciousness. Unconsciousness that was no longer blissful.

And then you saw a book wrapped carefully in ribbon in Spencer's apartment, even if Spencer wasn't particularly artistic. You didn't look in there. You didn't know if it would calm down or if you'd find out something you didn't want to know. He didn't even noticed you'd noticed the book, he was behaving the same way as last time. A little nervous, but pretending to be normal. You were also a profiler, he couldn't hide it from you, even if you didn't make a habit of profiling your loved ones, it didn't agree with your morals. Well, you made plenty of exceptions for Spencer, so why should this be any different?

You loved this living room 'cause of the light. As you stood by the bookshelf, staring at the spines of old, yellowed books whose arrangement you already knew by heart, Spencer came up behind you, a slightly sheepish smile on his face. You knew that look on his face. You often cut his hair because he wasn't very comfortable with having a barber do it. He didn't like the feeling of a stranger messing with his hair, it wasn't pleasant in any way, even if most of society disagreed.

“Umm… I’m starting to think I look weird.” He began uncertainly, referring to his hair. “It’s a little too long, I think.”

You stared at him for a moment, your gaze darting between his face and his hair, you smiled. You had thought about proposing a haircut to him a few days ago, but in the end you didn't. The request seemed rather sudden. Finally, you reached out and touched his hair, and he leaned slightly into your touch. He found it a pleasant experience.

"I don't know, I like it. It's not too long yet." You admitted as you focused on his hair and kept running your fingers through it, trying to style it.

"You think so?"

You didn't know why he was so determined about it, or why he cared so much at that time. As if there were already too many strange things happening that you couldn't explain, another one was just happening.

"Yeah, it's fine. Trust me, Spence."

“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed your forehead. This kiss was warm and sincere, as always, but it had a slightly different tone than what he usually gave, more... apologizing? What the hell did he have to apologize for?

You didn't bring up the subject of hair again. You didn't know, but Alex had told him that his hair was fine the way it was and it wouldn't affect what Maeve thought. It would be funny if you were the one who cut his hair to meet her. And your eyes kept returning to the white cover and the ribbon - The narrative of John Smith

You thought you were stupid, that you were really just making up a story to yourself because you were too bored, that it was just your stupid overthinking and nothing was happening, you were drawing too many conclusions and adding a story to everything. You thought you were crazy, that something was wrong with you. You should have been happy that Spencer was no longer suffering and in pain, not making up events that you had no idea about.

What if you were right?

~

While at work one day that seemed as normal as any other, except for the constant doubts in the back of your mind, you saw Spencer briskly walk to Hotch's office without a word. He was there longer than you expected, which certainly didn't comfort you. And then you were all in the bullpen, around Spencer, whose voice was breaking.

"... He thinks he'll get away with this and he might." He stared at the floor and didn't look up. "I have a wealth of knowledge I should be applying to this case. Behavioral patterns of violent stalkers, tactical recovery strategies, victim survival odds. But right now I can't focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time, which makes me the dumbest person in the room." All eyes were fixed on him, it was an unexpected situation. "So... please help me. Help me find her."

Sometimes you felt small glances at you. You clenched your hand on the edge of the desk. You weren't even mad. You felt your stomach drop. Maeve, same Maeve. How could all this be happening so close to you and you were so stupid? You didn't say anything, just like everyone else. The difference was that the others were taken aback, surprised, but you were just numb.

After a moment, Hotch spoke up, even his tone of voice was a little different than usual. "We don't know if we have a case. So we'll be working on personal time. Does anybody want to leave?"

Silence.

You swallowed hard, but did nothing. You didn't leave, you stood there, leaning against the desk. It seemed impossible. This was all a bad dream. If nothing happened, then you weren't betrayed, right? Still, your heart ached. Your heart ached for another reason. You couldn't even feel angry because you were more concerned with his trembling, cracking voice. What the hell was wrong with you. What was even worse was that Spencer didn't have the courage to look at you. His gaze wandered, staring at the floor, his gaze meeting everything and everyone but you.

"Good. Let's get to work."

Soon, you were sitting at the same round table as always. All of their letters in front of you. The same written pages that you had seen in Spencer's apartment, but that you had never touched. You hadn't spoken to him since his confession and plea for help. You should have occupied yourself with the fact that this was about the life of an innocent woman, approached it professionally, but you couldn't. Looking at these letters, holding them in your hands and reading them, you pressed your lips into a line. You didn't share your thoughts or observations. In fact, you didn't have any, because all the letters merged into one, and you weren't able to think deeper.

Spencer was clearly taking it, looking worse than he had during any stressful case, worse than he had during any other stressful event. And you wanted to help him, or take him aside and talk to him. But he didn't seem to have a clear head to talk. What were you supposed to do anyway? Comfort him? You were the first loved one, it wasn't fair to you. Who said feelings were fair? Were you supposed to yell at him? In his condition, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and you'd only say too many words because of how you felt now.

He was angry, he didn't behave rationally, he stretched all possible theories. You had never seen Spencer like this, so emotional.

And you thought he was emotional when you were shot in the stomach during one of the cases five, maybe four years ago.

You remember his panic, your hot, scarlet blood on his hands, the pressure of his hand on your stomach where the bullet was and the tears in his eyes. And you smiled slightly at him, you don't know why, but you weren't even scared. You didn't feel any pain, because of the adrenaline in your body. You lost so much blood at the same time that you started to feel blissful, maybe that's why you weren't afraid. He acted like a hothead, and you thought there was no need to panic.

He sat in the hospital all night, right under the operating room, when you were being operated on. For several days he sat in the hospital almost constantly, slept on those uncomfortable chairs and showed you the greatest care. He was the first person you saw after waking up. The team and the nurses practically had to drag him away from the room and the hospital.

He brought you everything that could help you recover faster and smuggled in some snacks when you made pretty eyes, although according to the regulations he shouldn't do that. He explained that he wasn't doing it because it was your whim, but because after losing so much blood you should eat chocolate to normalize. You knew that wasn't his intention, but you appreciated the clever excuse.

It doesn't change the fact that you lost a part of yourself back then.

But his behavior back then was nothing like what he was now. A nervous wreck. He wanted to do everything in his power to save Maeve. How could you have known they were in touch? You thought that after the meds were prescribed, it was over. But no, she had sent him a letter praising his article on psychology. You tried to work on it, like everyone else, you really did, but you felt like shit. Maybe she was what he had always been looking for? They were interested in similar things, had similar topics and knowledge in different areas. Maybe you were just too stupid for the long term, didn't have that much to offer.

Weren't you his love by any chance?

Anyway, you didn't even talk. You didn't bring yourself to talk, you didn't look at him. The team's hard work had paid off, even if the atmosphere was tense and heavy. You were supposed to find Maeve, find out where Diane was holding her. Diane had already killed Bobby, Donovan's ex-fiancé. After her efforts, Garcia discovered where both women could be. Hotch absolutely forbade Spencer from showing up at the scene, but Spencer clearly protested. He wanted to pretend to Diane what he felt for Maeve - love.

After those words, you really felt like nothing.

You no longer showed him the same sweet support you always did, you couldn't, but by not giving up on your help you also made it clear that you wouldn't just abandon him. Despite the lack of contact between you, you devoted your nights to this matter, you slept worse than usual and drank more coffee. Don't kid yourself, you didn't really sleep because you were thinking about your relationship. Was it real or was it your imagination? You weren't working, you were consumed by thoughts and you were losing all of yourself in it.

So you were there for him, well, more for his cause, but for him.

~

Outskirts of town. Spencer entered the old, abandoned building first. None of you thought it was a good idea, but you didn't stop him. You felt the pain in this whole situation, and you were even more afraid of something happening to him. Well, it was because you loved him. You didn't know if he loved you the same anymore. You couldn't even think about 'no'. You were exhausted for the past few days.

You waited there impatiently, not knowing what was going on inside. At least you didn't see that fake kiss between Diane and Spencer. You knew it would be wiser to step in there, so that's what you did. They tried to keep you at a distance, to the side, so you wouldn't do anything stupid under the influence of emotions. Spencer tried to negotiate with Diane, who was holding a terrified Maeve, while with her other hand she was holding a gun to her own temple. You kept your cool, just like Spencer, but you could see his nervousness.

"He's the one thing you can never take from us." You heard Maeve's last, quiet words, and then a noise.

A bang, a screech in your ears, and a large, spreading stain of blood on the floor. Both women lying on the cold floor, their hair in dark blood, and a gun nearby. You looked at Spencer, who was rooted to the ground, with tears in his eyes. He quickly approached the lying, still warm Maeve. The bullet flew through the head of one and stopped in the head of the other. There was nothing left to save from the shot brain. Spencer's beloved was currently bleeding out in his arms, his hands were completely covered in sticky blood, and tears were running down his cheeks, staining her pale skin and face, from which the life had gone.

Everyone was in shock, no one made a move or said anything. Tears welled up in your own eyes. Partly because of how Spencer felt, how tragic his condition was, partly because you only just realized what was happening. He was crying hard over the body of another woman, whispering quiet words to her, hoping she would hear them, even though it was a foolish hope. He was too stunned to do anything at that point, so you walked up to them, her blood was also on your hands, you thought you could still save her yourself, even though there was no chance of that.

~

He helped her parents bury her. He was there until the end... in fact, he was there even longer. Everyone else had gone, and he was left at the grave. No, he wasn't there alone. He was there with you. You helped him in everything. You loved him and watched him bury and mourn his beloved woman. He hadn't slept in many nights, his eyes were red and his face was drawn and sunken, and he had probably lost weight. He didn't remember much of the ceremony, he was numb and had been on sedatives for several days.

Days passed, and attempts to contact Spencer were in vain, he wasn't at work, he didn't answer his phone. You went to the staircase of his apartment, to the tenement house where he lived. You'd sometimes pass JJ or Blake going up or down the same stairs. You knew the stairs by heart by now, and every time you went on the second floor up them it only got worse. Penelope left more baskets of food and necessary things by his door. Eventually they disappeared, he had to take them when no one was there, he had to survive somehow, not leaving the apartment.

You couldn't handle it, but you tried not to show it. Despite that, the rest seemed to notice your suffering. They certainly did, knowing how close you were. Suddenly you felt betrayed, rejected. What the fuck was that? You were always there for him, always, you loved him, he seemed to love you sincerely too. And in the end, he suffered because of the loss of another woman. How did she achieve this so quickly? You wanted to be understanding, but you didn't know how. You had the right to hate him, but you didn't do that either. You were left empty.

Without optimism, without a spark in the eyes, without what you started with.

You knocked on his door again, even though you had a feeling it wouldn't make much difference. Your voice was loud enough to be heard, but tired.

"You know Spencer, it's me again." You started uncertainly, having to think about every word so as not to say something stupid. It was a delicate situation. After a moment, you continued. "I just want to know how you're holding up." You leaned toward the dark, wooden door with a small plaque with the number 23.

You heard faint movements and rustling on the other side of the door, but no response. You sighed quietly. "Maybe you don't want to talk to anyone. Okay, I'm not forcing you. I think I look a little stupid talking to the door, though."

Suddenly you heard the sound of the lock turning in the door. The door opened slowly, as if he was wondering if he wanted to open it. Finally you saw him in the doorway, dressed in a thick sweater, deep in mourning. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair uncombed. The curtains in the apartment were drawn, and it was a general mess, which you could only see because of what you could see behind him, in the back of the apartment. "Hey." He was barely holding on.

You wanted to help him, to be there for him again, but you no longer felt entitled to do so. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you into the apartment. You immediately opened one of the windows, not much, just enough so that the fresh air would make him feel better. You repeated your previous question. You were standing close to him, but at a safe distance. "How are you feeling?" You asked in a soft voice with your typical concern.

"Not so well." He answered shortly, he didn't have the strength to talk.

You didn't push. Hell, you couldn't even talk to him. It was almost like you were standing there with a stranger, not with the man, you loved so much. The light you loved so much was gone from this room. It was almost completely dark. The air was thick with lose and indecision.

He walked over to you, more tears flowing from his eyes. Suddenly you were his support again. He hadn't really cried in days, he just didn't have the strength anymore. Seeing you made him realize everything he had done. He clung to you like you were his last lifeline, he clung to no one else but you. You heard his sobbing and some quiet words, you didn't even understand what they were, there were tears in your eyes too, but you didn't hug him like you usually did.

On the corner of the table, the same book was lying again, this time without the brown ribbon. You were lucky you didn't see the dedication inside. It would have destroyed you even more. Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another.

He cried on your shoulder, and you pressed your lips together to keep from falling apart. Why did he even feel entitled to this, why did he keep leaning on you? You felt like screaming. You really wanted to scold him, but it probably wasn't appropriate at the time.

Again you were there for him, it was always you at the end of the day.

~

The atmosphere at work was tense, heavy. Everyone seemed to be behaving normally, but it wasn't like usual. No one talked to you about the incident anymore, except maybe Penelope, who as always tried to talk to you, to make you feel a little relieved, brought you those herbal, sweet teas with syrups that you loved. She didn't delve into the subject, so as not to drag out your own pain, she skirted the subject all the time. Basically, everyone was tiptoeing around you, which irritated you. Damn, you didn't want any forced pity.

A few weeks passed, Spencer went back to work, but you didn't talk more than necessary and everyone noticed the changes between you. You became colder, distant. After all, your relationship wasn't supposed to affect the team's work. But was it even a relationship anymore?

You bit your nails, picked at the cuticles around your nails, scratched off the polish. You clenched your fists, dug your nails into your palms, leaving indentations in the shape of half moons on the palms of your hands. Every morning you looked at him with a storm in your eyes, and he didn't notice the signals you were sending him.

You had to talk to him, there was no other way. He had avoided you during Maeve's case and the funeral, and after that you had only had this one, harmless conversation because you didn't want to overwhelm him with more things right away. But now you were the one who was overwhelmed. You cared about his well-being, but not your own. It had always been like that, you were mainly concerned about him, even if it was ultimately overwhelming for you.

Was it worth it? Because I don't think so.

Having a free moment, you approached him and approached him. You wondered if you should do it or just back off, but your tongue got the better of you and the words came out. "We should talk."

He immediately turned to you. He knew this conversation would come, but somehow he wasn't ready for it. But he also knew how much worry and pain he had caused you, he couldn't put it off forever and keep running away. Grief wasn't an excuse. "Fine."

You found a spot in the hallway, a little more private, far enough away so you wouldn't be conspicuous through the glass doors. No one in the bullpen needed to hear your conversation or see what you did. You didn't promise predictability.

You could see he wanted to start calmly, like it always was between you, but you started abruptly first. "Spencer, what was that all about?"

He wasn't looking at you again, suddenly the floor seemed much more interesting. "What does that mean?"

"Don't suddenly act stupid, you're not stupid and unintelligent. What was wrong with our relationship?" You play brave, tough. You play because you don't feel that way.

He looked up, his lips pressed into a line. “Nothing. Everything was fine.” His answers were distant.

You shook your head slightly. “Spencer, talk to me, I don’t want any half-spells. You know what, I would expect this from anyone, anyone, but you."

He let you down, he let you down and that hurt him the most. He wasn't what you deserved. "I'm sorry." You could feel the shame in his voice but you didn't want shame or an apology because there was nothing left to save.

"I don't want your sorry. I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy. I didn't expect anything in return, not even though I got your feelings in return, I'm not saying I didn't, I won't lie. But how did you replace me so easily?" And your bravery quickly crumbled, and tears appeared in your eyes, you blinked a few times.

Silence.

"Do something, say something! You won't lose anything anyway." You were starting to get angry. This was the first time you had been angry at him like this and you had allowed yourself to be angry. "Because what else can you lose?" Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and not said that. It sucks, it happens.

He swallowed hard. "You. I could lose you." He knew those words wouldn't do much now, but he tried anyway.

"Oh, you're just now thinking about this? And where, excuse me, were you earlier?! Sorry I forgot, in a phone booth. And you didn't see my gray face, how sick we've become, and if you noticed, you wouldn't admit it." You didn't mince your words, you deserved to be genuinely mad.

"I..."

You should have let him talk, you should have, but you didn't. "No, listen to me! You acted like the biggest, selfish asshole and I don't know what you were thinking!" He had never seen you so upset with him, but he didn't interrupt. "What did you miss, what did I miss?"

He deserved those words, he knew he deserved them. He didn't even try to argue, he accepted the harsh words. It hurt him more when he heard your question. "No, no, you didn't lack anything. It's my fault and I'm really sorry. You were so good and sweet to me, it's all my fault." He didn't want to lose you too, but he worked for it.

"You can't change anything, beating yourself up now won't change anything... Spence." You hesitated to address him that way at all. You weren't as loud as you had been a few seconds ago, but I guess he preferred it that way. It was easier for him to accept your anger and the hurling of insults than the disappointment in your voice. And that was exactly what was in your voice - disappointment.

He looked almost like a beaten puppy. "I know, I realize that." He thought for a moment; he wasn't in the habit of swearing. "I screwed up."

"Yes, and I don't deny it. I really thought you'd be honest. I wish I had known from the beginning, maybe it would have been easier." You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't be stupid enough to cry. "I thought it was honest. My own pain was such an imposition."

He reached out and ran his hand through the hair on top of your head. He didn't want to scare you, to do something you wouldn't like, he held his hand there for a moment. "It wasn't an imposition, don't think like that. And you shouldn't have known this from the start, in fact I shouldn't have done it at the first."

You wanted to ask what Maeve had that you didn't, but you didn't even have the courage. You pulled his hand away from your hair. "Those are nice words, but we both know you can't take back your actions, which said something completely different." You bit the inside of your cheek until you finally spoke again. "You're losing me."

He didn't blame you for rejecting his hand, he understood that perfectly well, you had every right to avoid him, but he still felt a pang. He shook his head slightly. "No, don't say that, please."

"But it's over, Spence. You kind of decided that yourself. I'm really sorry she's gone, but helping with a case like hers is one thing, and love is another. I know you and I saw, well... that." You didn't want to bring up the brutal murder directly. "That's what love looked like."

For a moment you stood in silence, he couldn't deny it and you didn't know what to say. Without a word you turned around and started walking down the hallway towards the glass doors, a few tears in your eyes balanced between your lash line and the corners of your eyes.

Spencer lost something again, but you were no longer there for him.

See? I told you so.

You know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone.

[readychilledwine]

Okay I have like a slightly out of pocket request/idea that I don’t think I’ve seen before and if this is not your cup of tea you can straight up IGNORE but it’s taken over my brain 😂 let’s pretend in this story that eris and mor are mates but it’s a rejected situation bc obvs mor isn’t into males. And helion and the lady of autumn are also mates. This is post Hybern, maybe during or after ACOSF. Beron (I know ew right but stay with me now) ends up finding HIS mate. And she’s like the sweetest thing ever and she’s terrified of him. (Beron is infatuated with her because of whatever power she may have but he’s still an asshole don’t get me wrong this is not a beron redemption request) It becomes public knowledge that beron found his mate and he plans on marrying her. eris REFUSES to let another female be subjected to what his mother went through so this is what spurs the whole murder beron and become high lord plot. I have no thoughts on what happens between but eris succeeds and becomes high lord in the end, but falls in love with beron’s mate during the process and it’s mutual love and it’s angst with a happy ending. Usually fated mates is my jam but I just needed every mating bond to go wrong in this one LOL. Except for Helion and LoA of course 🫡

A Game of Fate

Eris Week - Day 7 - Free Day

Summary - After the bond between Beron Vanserra and Eris's hidden lover makes itself known, the cycle of tyranny in Autumn is put to the test

Warnings - assassination, poison, Beron, mentions of abuse, food and sleep deprivation, beron x reader mating bond.

A/n - I've been holding on to this, and I am so sorry 😭. I played with it a little bit, but I this ultimately was the version I am happiest with! Happy last day of @erisweekofficial . It feels like I'm like leaving a long-distance friend after too short of a visit.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

The Cauldron was wrong. Eris understood Azriel's claim in every sense now. The Cauldron had to be wrong.

There was no other explanation for why his father was currently signing papers to end his marriage because you were his mate. Sweet, kind, soft spoken you. You dreamed of far-off places, peace. You once told Eris you liked to imagine what the stars whispered to each other late at night.

You were a dreamer, and you were his. Eris had hidden you in plain sight since you became his peace. You were there for him after Mor rejected the bond. You were there for him after every beating, and you loved him through everything.

And now your father had to go and ruin it. You were 505 years old, and he finally felt the need to present you as a lady to the court to be married off however Beron saw fit.

If it was a massive payout your father wanted, he had it. Everyone knew what had happened the second the High Lord of Autumn laid eyes on you. The reactions ranged from jealousy to sympathy to shock. And now, two months later, the reaction was silence.

Without even speaking, you had changed the course of Autumn's history. You had ruined Helion, Rhys, and Eris's plans. You had freed his mother at the cost of yourself and your safety. Your words behind those closed doors would haunt Eris until he died, "I will marry you only if Lady Autumn is freed and allowed to leave to wherever she sees fit, safely and with your blessing."

Eris sighed as the other two High Lords, the inner circle, and his brothers all sat in Helion's war room. Eris's boots banged with each anxious and angry step, "Any ideas," he asked. "I would have to outright declare a blood duel now, which requires gaining the support of the rest of the courts beforehand, and we do not have time for that."

"We can not declare war," Rhysand contemplated. "No other court had claim to the girl, and you have no known claim to her."

"Even if he did, Autumn court law says the mating bond trumps it," Eris's mother, Anala, said. "Especially when it is between two members of the Autumn Court. Our laws allow males to claim their mates without her accepting the bond."

"Well if that isn't misogynistic-"

"Let me know when you actually ban wing clipping, and you can bash my court's laws," Anala spat at Rhysand. "You know, as well as I do change doesn't come overnight with a dictator."

Rhysand blinked at the former Lady of Autumn before glancing at Helion. You entered the room at that moment. The air seemed to tense as you did, but Eris rushed to you, holding your elbows. "Are you alright?"

Beron has been trying to manipulate you for weeks. He played games with your mind no long talks with Eris could prepare you for. Beron was a monster, and this was only your second week continuously being with him.

Helion stared to his love, his long lost mate, and stood, "Give me a week with your mother, and I will do it." The silence was screaming as the former Lady of Autumn shook her head. "There are no other answers, my love." Helion knew the look in Eris's eyes, the ache, the desperation, and the struggle.

He knew immediately what you were to Eris and what you could be to Autumn. Helion, much like Eris, knew he could not let you fall victim next, but you had no intentions to. He had watched his mate suffer for far too long, and the rumors of Beron's so-called adoration for the female in front of him did not mask the concern the Lord of Day felt.

You and Eris held eye contact. The room noticed the wordless communication. It was a bond that could only have been built through love, trust, and years of understanding. "I can not risk you like that."

"I would be careful," your reply was so soft but filled with confidence. "He won't even know if we use small amounts."

Eris couldn't help but hold your arms a little tighter, "I will not risk you." His eyes were pleading for you to reconsider to think this through.

"Would anyone mind including the rest of us in this... touching conversation?" Rhysand picked a piece of lint off his jacket before crossing his arms.

You spoke before Eris could, "There is a plant that grows in a certain place. It is highly poisonous and undetectable. The symptoms are no worse than an allergy. It can cause death within 2 weeks."

You watched as Anala shook her head at Helion, "I know of no such poison."

"That's because I made and grow it," Eris flinched at your admission and the questions it would bring.

Helion started to laugh, "You made it?"

Eris glared at the Day Lord, "y/n has a certain.. gift.. from the Mother."

"I can combine poisons," you rolled your eyes at Eris playfully. "Create new ones with no antidote or cures." Rhys and Helion turned to each other, clearly not assumed by the new information. "I only used it once. And they deserved it."

Anala's whiskey eyes went wide, "The human smuggler. You killed him?"

"Eris did. I just provided the supplies."

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. "Eris, why was this information not provided to any of us earlier? Do you understand how useful she is?" You shook your head toward the red-haired male. He seemed to calm down instantly at the sight of you. "Ah, I see. She's your lover. Not just your friend."

His mother seemed stunned at this information, "But Morrigan?"

You flinched at the mention of her name. "Has the same taste as I do, mother," Eris was only looking at you. "And I do not support this idea," his grip on your arms grew tighter. "He is not a common idiot."

"Nor am I," you declared. "I would be smart. I'll be close enough to him to make sure he gets it every day. Even after just a week-"

Rhysand finished, "He'd be weak enough to call an emergency meeting or for one of us to declare the blood duel."

You nodded at the Lord of Night, not even stopping to admire his dark beauty with the grace of Autumn and Mother Nature stood before you in Eris's eyes. There was no world where you planned to be without him, no world where you could see yourself in arms besides his.

But for a week you would not have a choice. For a week, you would play the part you were expected to, and it began before you even had breakfast the next day. You were woken up by two handmaiden ripping you from your bed in the former Lady of Autumn's private chambers and throwing your half awake and now naked self into a bath.

Every inch of you was scrubbed almost raw before your hair was washed and scented to Beron's preference of roses. You were dried and dressed in almost no time, the heavy traditional gown feeling like shackles on your figure.

No cotton dresses if this failed.

No more nights in Eris's sweaters and nothing else.

Once your hair and makeup we're finished, you were not taken to breakfast. You were taken to lessons. Beron had assumed you knew nothing of formality, nothing of etiquette. You had not been presented to his courts, so what other assumption could he have made as you were retaught the differences in dinning utensils.

You would not see food until that even came, and then the mood quickly fizzled away as the table for two was filled. The only sound in the room was meat being cut, your breathing. You knew not to speak before the High Lord addressed you. You knew he was testing you with silence.

You did not see Eris in this male. There was no sign of the life that burned in Eris's eyes. No freckle of Beron's seemed to mimic the night sky the way Eris's did. There was nothing special to you about Beron Vanserra. Not even the bond was strong enough to make you want him.

"How were your lessons," his voice was falsely sweet. "I assume based on your manners they went well."

"They were lovely, High Lord," you responded. "A good refresher for everything my mother had already taught me."

Beron glanced at you, "Are you inferring you did not appreciate me setting you up with the finest tutor in my court?"

Eris would be whispering to you to tread carefully. Beron's very body language told you this was beginning to enter dangerous territory. "No, my lord," you said softly, "But I would hate for you to waste time and resources on me when I am sure there are better things to put them towards."

Beron leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips as he cocked his head, "You know how to play. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy breaking you, mate."

And you thoroughly enjoyed watching him drink the whiskey laced with 3 drops of poison.

The next day was different. Beron himself was dragging you places without food right away this morning. He was showing you off to different advisors all day, bragging about your beauty, your ability to manipulate flowering and fruiting plants into harvests sooner.

You had used your magic so much to show off for him that you could hardly stand as he affectionately held your chair out for dinner. "You did wonderfully today," he began eating after forcing you to say a prayer to the Mother.

He didn't get to hear the silent plea you sent her. The silent begging for mercy.

You sid get to hear him start coughing as he drank his tainted whiskey that night, though.

Eris was worried for you the third day. You had been sent to bed late, awoken early. Once again, not allowed food. He had stayed by your and Beron's side in meeting that day.

His amber eyes never left your form. He was openly staring at the way you couldn't help but lean on Beron in your exhausted state.

And when Beron stole you for dinner, Eris made sure to add extra poison to his drink, watching as you played the part of the perfect mate, rushing to help him as he began to cough up blood.

Illness among the fae was rare, but when it struck, it was deadly. By the end of day 4, the Forest House was a much quieter place. Beron was bed bound due to Eris's choice to expose him to the poison morning, noon, and night.

You had warned him that this poison was aggressive in large doses. He had also tested it on more brutal lesser fae tracking to attack innocent children to see that. It was brutal, focusing on getting into the smallest cells of blood before shutting down major organs quickly and painfully. You were sat beside his father, crying, playing the part, and Eris beside you, a distraught son.

Day 5 Eris slipped the poison in a high dose into Beron's pain medication before finding you. He had cornered you into a hall closet. You had been forced from bed far too early again, forced to skip meals again.

Eris knew this tactic. Had Beron been healthy, he would continue this until your brain associated Beron's presence with food. It was a way to make you comply, to rely on him.

Eris put an end to it right that moment. He ordered you to be given food, then rest. His father refused the tea Eris offered him that night. Took weak to even open his eyes.

You had underestimated yourself and your powers, or perhaps the smug male above you had more to with it than he let on, bit day 7, Beron was unresponsive. Eris held you down on the bed you two had shared so many times before, kissing your neck and whispering words of how he'd move the very foundations of this world for you when the knock came on his door.

He quickly hid you, allowing a healer to enter. Eris faked his reaction perfectly. He fell to his knees with a strangled cry, hand on his heart as the healer moved to comfort the young heir.

Beron was unresponsive.

And by night fall, Eris truly fell over. His very blood felt as if liquid fire had been poured into him. His hearth grew brighter, hotter.

It wasn't until your heart-wrenching scream came that Eris knew without doubt what had happened. No one had prepared for the outcome of you losing your mate. No one had even questioned what it would do.

They had been so focused on saving you that they had forgotten the most important part of the bond, Beron was the other half of your soul. Grief. Guilt. Joy. Anger. You had never felt like this. You had never imagined a world where you could feel so deeply it ached and made you sick.

You pushed healers away as you held Beron's hand. You pushed Eris away as he came to kneal beside you. You didn't want to feel this, yet you did. You did as he forced you up and out of the room. You did as Beron's body was burned before his ashes were given to the trees. You did as you watched Eris take his place.

The grief only stopped when Eris concerned you that night, his hands on your hips, and he led you to another room where a separate celebration took place. Anala stood in Day Court attire, laughing as Helion dipped her, laughing as Lucien smiled at her from across the room, Elain safely tucked to his side.

Eris's middle brother stood dancing with his male lover, the two of them just swaying. Mor was there with Emerie, lips by her ear gossiping. "I ache too at times," Eris looked at her, a longing in his eyes as he did. "I wonder if I made the right choice to let her go on my loneliest nights. Then I see you."

Eris kissed your knuckles, "I see you, and I regret nothing. Not even what I did in secret."

You looked at him then, "Eris?"

"I stole the black poison. The one you never tested. Every time he and I ate together, I slipped him that one as well."

Your face fell, "You-"

"Weren't going to risk it. Not with the female I am in love with being involved," Eris drank his wine slowly as he studied your reaction.

"So no big fight needed?"

"Oh, trust me, I wanted that," he clarified. "I didn't realize it would work as quickly as it did. I wasn't sure what you had been crafting. He died before I could challenge him, but before he could break you."

The two of you continued watching Helion and Anala, continued watching Lucien and Elain, his brother, Mor.

The grief did linger, but as you took his hand, it faded more. "Let's go dance, High Lady," he whispered into your ear.

And with each spin, every dip, the raise in laughter, the ache continued to fade.

General Taglist:

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[bellafragolina]

Congrats on emptying your inbox!! If I may request, we've seen the s/o with Hanahaki, but what about Emmet and Ingo, separate please. It's another case of miscommunication, Emmet says nothing because you're in a relationship, a bad one that you're about to end, and Ingo says nothing because he thinks you're in a relationship, you aren't. With a happy ending please ;-;

so it's the boys spitting flowers?? i gotcha!

🍓🍓🍓

Emmet:

White hyacinth. Emmet twirls the flower between his fingers, scowling at the soft petals, speckled in blood. Of course, symbols of regret, that would be the flower chosen to encase his lungs and strangle him. Guess he is regretful, since he's let you run off into the arms of his worst enemy.

Sure, Emmet had no clue your boyfriend even existed before he became your boyfriend, but that didn't mean Emmet couldn't absolutely despise the guy. He does, very much so, and doesn't really try to hide it either. Emmet isn't good at lying, especially to you, so sadly. . . he's pushed you away a bit with his rivalry (one-sided rivalry at that).

And thus the flowers.

Emmet crushes the hyacinth in his palm, throwing it off into the living room. Not being able to breathe that well prevents him from going to work. He can't breathe because he can't confess his love to you. He can't do that because you're in a relationship. With a guy he hates. One he knows doesn't treat you half as good as Emmet would, if you were together.

The whole situation is a circle jerk of frustrating. And devastating. The white hyacinths make more sense now, because if there is one thing Emmet's feeling right now, it's a whole lot of regret.

A buzz gently knocks Emmet from his head. Begrudgingly, he checks the message, only to shockingly find your name displayed.

Coming over.

Plain and simple, a cut to the chase, but nerve-wracking all the same. Emmet rushes to tidy up and not look like he's dying, hands shaking as he paces and wonders what's happening. Did you want to hang out? Or was this some sort of intervention? Were you going to tell him you didn't want to be friends anymore?

That would kill him before any damn flower.

Emmet frets and worries, but still rushes to hug you when you throw open his front door. Your arms easily slide around his waist, soothing the worries and the flowers that make his chest feel so tight. Everything almost feels normal again, but then you pull away.

There are bags under you eyes, lines on your face that make you look far older than you are. The sight of them crushes Emmet's heart, but before he can even say anything, ask if you're alright, what's going on-

"I'm breaking up with him."

There's a self-assuredness to your voice that makes it seem so final, so simple. You're breaking up with your boyfriend, plain and simple. It's everything Emmet's been hoping to hear and then some, but he can't find it in him to be happy. Not when you look so tired.

"I. . ." Emmet swallows, struggling for the words to say. Would anything make this better? "I'm sorry."

You just shrug, and give him a sad little smile that cracks his already crushed heart. "Eh. It's whatever. He's a real son of a bitch, anyway." Your smile grows into more of a wry smirk. "But you already knew that, huh?"

Emmet ducks his head, almost ashamed, if not for the amusement that dances through your tired eyes.

"I need to listen to you more often." You say, chuckling. Emmet chuckles too, then it's quiet. Too quiet. You clear your throat to break it. "Do you. . . wanna hang out?"

"Yes." Emmet says immediately. He does. So badly. He missed you a lot. "I missed you. A lot."

That has you laughing, louder now. "Yeah?" Your smile is warm, as warm as the hand you curl around his. "I missed you too, big guy." You tug on his arm, so Emmet leans down, giddily accept the kiss to his cheek. "Come on. I've got a lot to make up to you."

"You do not have to." Emmet says, already dragging you out the door. He feels like he can breathe again. "But since you are offering, you will date me, and we will call it even."

You laugh, and the sound is perfect, especially when his own laughter, free and unhindered, joins in.

Ingo:

Ingo decides if there's one flower he doesn't like, it's tulips. Damned, horrid tulips. They fall out of his mouth, bell-shaped and yellow, stained with his sin of loving someone he can not have. He knows their meaning, knows how the spell out how hopeless he is, hopelessly in love, unrequited love.

But why is he to blame for that? How could he not fall in love? Everything he ever wanted fell into his lap, a perfect gift from those above, and what? Ingo wasn't supposed to see it? Wasn't supposed to grow close, to finally feel understood and like he could have the future he always dreamed of?

What did he do to deserve it all being snatched away from beneath his very feet, leaving him to stumble along where he thought he had a solid foundation.

Well, it isn't your fault either. You are everything, everything he ever wanted in a partner and then some. Days are lighter, easier, something to look forward to just because you're a part of it. Even a simple text from you could make his day amazing.

But you don't feel the same. No, instead there's another person, someone bolder, with less hang ups, someone not as hopeless as Ingo, who was able to ask you out. They didn't worry about anything, not like Ingo.

And now he has to bask in the consequences of being a hopeless, cowardly romantic.

At least you still hang out with him. At least Ingo still gets your presence in his life, not at all hindered by this partner of yours. You don't talk about them at all, perhaps to be kind to a man you know is drowning in a love you don't return.

But that's okay. Ingo will drown for you, if it means this simple happiness will stay.

Still, his body doesn't enjoy it. His lungs swell like they're going to burst, making it hard to breathe, hard to still be a Subway Boss to the people. He stays home some days, when the pain is at its worst, and just lies in bed, dreaming of a life he can't have.

And he wakes up to your hands in his hair, your tearful eyes peering at him from over the edge of the bed. It's a heartbreaking sight.

Ingo can barely croak out your name in concern.

You sniffle. "Emmet says you're dying." Ingo presses his lips into a thin line. He was sure Emmet didn't know, but maybe he did. He needs to apologize; this isn't something he should have to watch his twin go through. "Ingo. . ."

"I'll be okay." Ingo says, the quietest you've ever heard him. It doesn't help your tears, springing forth into full sobs that not even Ingo can soothe. "Shh, shh. . . It's alright."

"It's not!" You protest, shaking your head from the ghost of his clammy hands. "I love you and you're dying! In what world is that alright??"

Ingo just blinks up at you owlishly. ". . . what?"

"I love you." You tell him sternly. "I love you. I love you. I love you. Can you hear me now?" You press your mouth against his sweaty forehead, practically shouting it out to all of Nimbasa. "I LOVE YOU! So no, this is not alright-"

You're cut off by a hand on the back of your neck, bringing you down into the sloppy kiss of one ecstatic and delirious Ingo Trevithick.

You'll laugh about it later, Ingo is sure. You'll all laugh about how silly this all was, how silly you all were. But until then, Ingo will take the first full, deep breath he's had in ages, and sob into your mouth in utter relief.

Seems he isn't so hopeless after all.

🍓🍓🍓

ta-da! i did my best to follow your guidelines, so i hope you like them!

ciao!

~Renee

[emyladia]

I want you back... | L. Nr

pairing : lando norris x f!reader

summary : you and lando had broke up a few months ago and you're just now moving on. Or so you thought... 'Cause that was before he decide to text you.

genre : fluff, slightly angst ?

warning : cursing, pretty sure that's all

a/n : I just loooove writting about lando. This is kinda shitty but it was fun to write hope you'll enjoy it ! Anyways taking request if you want.

You were fine, of course the break up has been really tough for you but now you could say it loud and proud : you were over it.

What a lie...

All it took was a damn text for your world to fall into piece again.

"Hey"

It was 3 AM when you screen lit up, and now that single word was making you completly crazy.

What the hell ? Why would he be texting you ? Maybe a wrong number ? Was he drunk ?

Your head was just a huge mess at the moment, that's probably because of that that you decided to answer. You clearly wouldn't have if you were in your plain consciousness.

At least that's what you were trying to convinced you.

"Hey" You text back.

"It's been a while" He answered in less than a minute.

"WTF lando ?" You couldn't help but send, this wasn't making any sense.

He was the one to broke up with you, and he hadn't even try to contact you the past months. Why would he texts you ? And why now when you were finally moving on ?

"I miss you"

You had turn off your phone after this text.

Like what were you supposed to say ? That you too you were missing him ? That in fact you were missing him so damn much it was hurting you ? That you were missing him so bad that sometimes you were calling your male friends by his name ?

You just couldn't answered that.

You were having lunch with your a few friends, yet the text just wouldn't leave your mind.

You had basically stared at it the whole morning.

"Hey, you're okay y/n ?" One of your friend asked.

"Oh yeah sorry I was just lost in my thoughts" You tried to brush it off, chuckling a little.

"You seem a bit off today, no offense but we've barely heard you" Another one of your friend spoke with a concern look on her face.

They were all nodding, as you sighed.

You should probably just told them, theywere your closest friends and it's not like you could keep that to yourself anyway.

"Lando texted me" You blurted out looking down.

A loud silence followed your confession as you saw all their eyes widened in shock.

"I'm sorry WHAT ?" One of them finally spoke.

"Lando in like LANDO ?" Another continued.

And they all followed, throwing questions at you.

You showed them the conversation, way easier and they all gasped at the last text.

"What are you gonna do ? You should probably block him" Your friend said, they seemed tp all agree.

"Yeah I should do that" You nodded.

They were probably right, that was the best things to do. They were the one who had picked you up piece by piece when Lando broke up with you.

You were gonna do just that, blocked him and he would be out of your life forever.

God you were so weak.

When you went home and were about to block him another text illuminated your screen.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that, you're not mad are you ?"

You swear your fingers had just moved on their own.

"I'm not mad, I was just busy sorry" You replied, and you knew you had fucked up, that needed to stop and yet you were encouraging him.

"I'm so relieved to hear that ! How you're doing ?"

Damn why was he answering so fast.

"Just casual life nothing too entertaining, you ?"

"Pretty much the same"

It was gonna be fine, it was a simple discussion between two young adults. Nothing to worry about.

"The paddock feels empty without you" He added.

Shit. This wasn't fine at all.

"Is that so ?" You were kicking your feet like a damn teenager.

"Yeah, can't win a race without you" You knew, and he knew this was border, but to be honest you weren't caring at all.

"Can't win a race at all" You joked, you were giggling. God you've missed talking to him, even for simple discussion like that.

You shouldn't felt that way, or you were gonna end up sad again, but you couldn't help it.

"OFFENSIVE" He texted back, but you knew he was laughing.

You and Lando kept talking for hours, you were smiling at your phone like a maniac.

He was such a good talker, smooth, funny, full of charm.

He knew how to annoy you and how to make you laugh the most. He also knew how to hurt you the most.

You were currently laying in bed, watching 'pretty woman' when you got another text from your ex boyfriend.

"I really do miss you tho"

Here you were again, staring at the screen like it contained the answer to the greatest mystery on earth.

"Lando, stop that please" You eventually texted back after a few minutes.

"That what ?"

"That thing that you're currently doing, trying to make me pity you"

"Is it working ?"

"Lando..."

"Cmon y/n I'm serious, I fucking miss you, every minute of every day"

You were no longer paying any attention to the movie that was still playing on the screen of your laptop.

"YOU chosed to broke up" You remembered him.

"I know I made a damn mistake, and I'm sorry"

"You know what I don't even want to talk you anymore"

"Y/n don't do that"

"I should have blocked you already"

"But you didn't"

You were infuriating, completly messed up by too many emotions at the same time, you were sad, and angry against him, and against you too cause you were so weak for this man.

He was right, you didn't.

"Babe please, I just want you back" He sent you a few minutes later since you weren't answering.

"Should have thought about that sooner, and don't call me that"

"I'd do anything" He insisted.

"Claim me on TV and I'll think about it" You texted saracstically before turning off your phone.

You and lando had never been public, because fans could be crazy at some times and you were finding it absolutly ridiculous to brag on social media that you were in a relationship.

That's why you had said that, that wasn't making anysense. Maybe now he'll understand that this was definitly over.

Or so you thought.

When you woke up your phone was blowing up with notification.

A lot of demands on instagram and hundreds of texts from your friends.

You were so confused until you clicked on the link your friend had sent you.

It was an interview of Lando that he hade just done but the views were already so high. Why would she send you that ?

Everything become clear when right before ending the interview Lando spoke :

"Actually I want to say something before leaving, I used to date a girl Y/n Y/l/n, she was amazing but I messed up with her cause I was a complete idiot... So if you're ever seeing this please come back, I know I've been an asshole. But I really want you back"

What.

In.

The.

World.

Was.

Happenning.

You grabbed your phone and dialed his number immediatly... No answer.

"What have you done ???" You tyepd agressively on your keyboard completly freacked out.

[blackreaderfics]

🎃Wildcard | Jason Todd x Reader🎃

↳ Pairing : TitansDCverse!Jason Todd x Virgin!Reader

↳ Rating : E (18+ minors dni‼️)

↳ Summary : A round of Cards Against Humanity gets a little wild during “Game Night” at Titans Tower

↳ W.C : ~3.4k

↳ A/N : welcome to spooky season. this is my first ever fic for kinktober🧡👻 idk if this is controversial buuut I love that actor’s portrayal of Jason🫣

↳ Tags + Warnings: dubcon elements, oral (male receiving), face-fucking, orgy, stripping, degradation (“slut”), coercion, alcohol consumption (beer), teabagging, bullyish!jason x shyish!reader, reader wears glasses, reader is a virgin, jason is kinda a dickhead lol, side characters (rachel, rose, gar, and conner) are there, for sake of convenience they’re all 21+

Part 2

“Oh come on,” Jason groaned exasperatedly as you set your glasses on the coffee table. “Glasses don’t fucking count!”

After a successful mission and saving the world for the hundredth time, the Titans decided to unwind in the best way they knew how: a night in with board games and beer.

As usual, Jason had tried to make the games a little bit more exciting by adding a “fun twist”. Jenga became a drinking game; drink if you make the tower fall. Uno had become “draw or dare”, you could choose to draw four cards or get off scot-free by doing a dare. 

The “grownups” of the team—Dick, Kory, Hank, and Dawn— had excused themselves to do “grownup things” leaving you and the remaining group of young adults in the living room. Currently, you were now in the middle of another particularly heated game of Cards Against Humanity, the interesting twist being the person with the best card could choose for someone to strip an article of clothing.

Jason had been targeting you the whole night; teasing you for the baggy clothes you always wore. Purposely, just to annoy him, you’d only taken off your accessories and your zip-up hoodie.

Admittedly the clothes you wore didn’t really fit you right. You’d opted to wear oversized sweaters over fitted shirts, and unflattering pants over a more hip-hugging and slimming fit. Before you became a Titan, you were shyer than you were now. It had only been recently when you started to come out of your shell and get closer to your teammates. 

“Be for real. Glasses do so count!” You retorted. You had all but discarded your outer layers and were now left in pants and a tank top. You could take up a few turns with your socks and shoes if you needed to.

“Why do you guys wear so many layers?” Gar piped up. All he had on were his boxers and a single sock. Conner, who was sitting next to him, was equally fucked, only, with no socks as a buffer.

“Because we play idiotic games like this,” Rachel remarked dryly while drawing an extra card from the pile.

You and Rachel were the only ones currently safe from any unnecessary exposure. Rachel did wear a lot of layers, and despite having lost multiple rounds, still looked very much clothed. Rose sat far off on the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal looking on with about as much judgment as a girl with one working eye could. 

“You know, offer still stands. You can still join us, Rose,” Jason addressed the grey-haired, eye-patch-wearing girl without looking up from the cards in his hands.

“Hard pass. I’d rather watch you losers get destroyed.” She then unceremoniously returned to munching on her cornflakes.

Your gaze settled on Jason who’d shed his leather jacket and still remained in a plain black tee and jeans. He was unfairly attractive in the most basic of clothes. And though you hated his playground jibes and dirty humor, you couldn’t help but develop a little bit of a crush on the messy-haired boy. When his eyes caught yours, you could see the wheels in his brain practically turning as his smirk grew wider.

“How about…” He started slowly, “Boys versus girls. If you guys win, then we’ll get naked. If we win, you guys get naked.”

Of course he would suggest that, you thought to yourself glumly. The thought of showing your naked body to your crush didn’t excite you, it only made you more nervous.

“You’re just saying that ‘cuz you’re losing,” you said, masking your anxiety with a chug of your beer, “Conner’s literally only got his underwear left.” 

Conner, hearing his name, suddenly perked up. “For the record, I have x-ray vision. I can already see everything anywa—” Gar nudged him in the ribs to keep him from talking.

Jason shook his head. “It’s no fun if we already know who’s gonna win. Let’s vote on it then. Who here agrees to a wildcard match?” He raised his hand, and predictably the two other boys followed suit. “And who wants to play the way we’ve been playing; the boring virgin Y/N way?” He taunted cheekily.

You felt your cheeks warm again. He was never letting you live down the fact that you had confessed you were still a virgin during a past game of “Never Have I Ever”. You raised your hand and looked around for support. “Rachel,” you hissed desperately when you found she had not raised her hand. 

“Seriously? They suck at this game. It’s not like they’re gonna suddenly win out of nowhere," Rachel whispered back.

“In that case, I’ll play too,” Rose hopped off the counter and plopped on the couch next to you. 

“So nice of you to finally join us,” Jason crooned. “I’ll let you do the honors.” He passed her the deck he’d been shuffling for her to deal and sat back. 

After Rose had dealt all the cards, you looked at your hand. The deck you were playing with was a custom-made deck that Dick had ordered to round out the Tower’s impressive board game collection.

As a collective, you all pooled in ideas resulting in a deck of cards ranging from the peculiar to the mundane; from “taking shots off Nightwing’s ass”; to “Batman’s Worst Nightmare”; to names of each of your superhero aliases including all of the Justice League. For some reason, however, all the cards in your current hand were names.

“Make me laugh,” Rose ordered primly as she set down her card and folded her arms in expectation. It read: 

“If I could fuck anyone right now, I would fuck ______”

“Damn,” Rachel sounded impressed, “that’s certainly one way to start a round.”

Gar immediately threw his card down, followed by Rachel, then Jason. Only Conner and you were left.

“Time’s ticking Y/N,” Jason tapped a nonexistent watch on his wrist. Usually you would fire a comeback at him, but this time you could only frown as you chose your safest option and slid it tentatively over to the pile in the middle. 

“Time’s up, Conner,” Rose said as she gathered the cards. He passed it over face down, obviously not very happy about his choice. 

“Okay, we have a ‘Wonder Woman’,  a ‘Poison Ivy’….” She glanced around the room to see if anyone would give themselves away. “A ‘Robin’—wait...” She barked out a laugh. “I can’t not address this. I pick this one. Who fucking put down Robin?”

The room erupted into fits of laughter rivaling a high school classroom as they watched you sigh and bashfully raise your hand. 

“Oh, would you now?” Jason raised a curious eyebrow at you. 

“I-in my defense, there’s more than one Robin,” you sputtered pitifully before he could tease you further. You watched him stand up and begin to raise his shirt, giving you an eyeful of v-line and toned midriff. “W-what are you doing! I didn’t pick you!” 

Despite being only in a tank top, you felt yourself getting hot. Gar and Conner had equally toned bodies, but they weren’t affecting you the way Jason had been. Just to spite you, he kept his eyes on yours as he raised his shirt as suggestively as possible, bringing it up over his head and tossing it in a pile on his leather jacket.

“Just giving the person who wants to ‘fuck me right now’ a little preview.” He said, smile smug like he was doing charity for letting you see his 6-pack. 

Yea, real fucking Mother Theresa.

“Well, too bad I can barely see it.” You waved a hand in front of your face, “No glasses remember?”

“Come sit on my lap, mama, I’ll give you a closer look.” Jason plopped back on the sofa, abs flexing as he reclined with his legs spread wide, inviting you to sit with a pat on his thigh and a wicked smirk to match.

“Ugh, gross,” Rose made a face but appeared to be humored by Jason’s antics. 

“Anyway,” you interrupted desperately trying to change the subject. “Since I won, technically that means the girls won too. Rules are rules.” 

You had barely even finished your sentence when the boys immediately moved to take off their clothes. Your mouth went dry as they sat nonchalantly before you now, cocks resting against their stomachs.

In any other situation, you’d probably find this extremely inappropriate. They were your teammates. Sure, you lived together and had walked in on the occasional member changing or just getting out of the shower, but you were a bit buzzed off of the booze already, and this was different— you couldn’t help but stare.

“So uh…what now?” Gar’s nervous laugh broke the silence and everyone turned towards him; he blushed under the newfound attention.

“New game?” Conner suggested. He appeared to be just as clueless as Gar but with less of the blushing.

Rose looked over at you and Rachel for guidance, but seeing as neither of you knew how to react, the grey-haired girl merely shrugged back at the boys. “I’m down.”

“Ok, new game,” Jason agreed. “If you can make all of us cum in 10 minutes then the girls can get TV remote control privileges for the rest of the year.”

“All of you including Conner?” You asked brow raised, “He’s a super, that’s not fair.”

“What? It’s not like he has ‘super cum control’ too.”

“Actually, yea I—”

“Don’t answer that,” Jason cut in, annoyed. “Ok fine, I’ll give a handicap. If you can make one of us cum in 5 minutes untouched then the TV’s all yours.”

“Do you think we’re stupid, Todd?” Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Well…” He paused and tapped a finger to his chin to consider Rachel’s rhetorical question, flinching playfully when she raised her fist to jab in his direction. “Ok ok, but 5 minutes is a long time!”

“I meant the untouched part.”

“Your handicap is you can’t touch us, and our handicap is Logan.” He jabbed a thumb to gesture at Gar who looked like he was meditating to calm himself down. “He’ll probably reach the big ‘O’ before he reaches nirvana.”

“Deal, but if it’s gonna be like that then let’s raise the stakes a little.” Rose countered. “Not just remote control privileges. We get control privileges. Over you guys. If we win, you have to do whatever we say for the rest of the year.”

Jason fished his phone out from the pocket of his jacket and set the timer for 5 minutes. “And if we win, the same for us too.” He started the timer and sat back.

You, Rachel, and Rose made a beeline for Gar, who’d still had his eyes squeezed closed in the middle of the sofa.

“Fuckin’ hell, I should’ve known you’d try ‘n cheat,” Jason grumbled and stopped the timer. “No double or triple-teaming. One to one only and I get to choose the pairs.”

“And why should you be the one to choose that?” You turned toward him, trying (and failing) not to look at his dick. It was long and thick, with a slight curve and a pretty pink color at the tip.

“‘Cuz you wanna fuck me so bad,” he simpered, an impish grin playing on his lips.

“Oh god,” You rolled your eyes.

“Let him choose,” Rose challenged unfazed at Jason’s constant goalpost moving. “Whatever strategy he thinks he has isn’t gonna work.”

Jason ignored her and carried on with making the pairs. “Rachel and Conner, Rose and Gar.” He pointed directly at you, “You and me.”

Upon his directions, the three of you moved to stand in front of your now-designated partners. Finally satisfied, Jason set the timer again and pressed start. Almost immediately Rachel and Rose set to work on their mission, stripping their clothes down to their underwear. You tentatively followed suit, shimmying out of your jeans and kicking them aside. Jason eyed you, fully reclined in his seat with his hands comfortably behind his head. 

“Well, this is gonna be easier than I thought,” He yawned, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

“I doubt your porn-addled brain has ever seen a real woman before, Jason.” The taunts you directed at him should’ve sounded more confident, but instead were dulled by your nervous fidgeting at the hem of your shirt. 

This was the first time you’d ever been half-naked in front of a boy. And not just any boy, but a boy you liked. But the way he always seemed to tease you and make sexually insensitive jokes at your expense made you anxious. It wasn’t overt bullying, but the little comments he would sneak here and there were beginning to eat at you. If you showed him any more of your body, would he make fun of you even more?

“Trust me, I’ve seen plenty,” He assured, “But how ‘bout you jog my memory and demonstrate?” His gaze moved down your chest and back up to your eyes, daring you to take it off. 

You fidgeted again under his stare, feeling a sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. It was a mix of anxiety, embarrassment, and something else you could quite place. When you glanced over to the other pairs, Rachel had already taken her top off and Rose was in the middle of a strip tease. 

“Four minutes,” Jason announced, with a bored expression. 

Feeling a sense of urgency, you pulled off your tank top, exposing your lacy bra. When his dick twitched, both your eyes shifted to the hardening situation in his lap. You could see him fighting the urge to touch himself now, and that gave you a burst of confidence. 

Rachel and Rose were now in between Gar and Conner’s legs, not touching them, but teasing them by blowing hot air on their cocks. You followed suit, with only three minutes left you had to do something. After all, forfeiting your will to the whims of three boys with raging hormones didn’t seem like a fun idea, especially since you knew how playfully vindictive they could get. They’d probably try and make you human furniture or whatever other sick and twisted thing they could think of. You shuddered at the thought of the kind of torture they could come up with.

You sank to your knees and sat between Jason’s legs. You watched him involuntarily swallow and sit up straighter, pulling his hands down from his head to steady himself and clutch at the couch cushion beneath him. 

“Three minutes,” Jason glanced at his phone, but he wasn’t as confident as he was before. If anything, he seemed much more distracted by your presence at his feet.

Satisfied with his change in demeanor, you only smiled at him, fluttering your lashes at him as you brought your mouth closer to his balls. You opened your mouth and exhaled softly.

He hastily brought a hand to his cock—beads of precum already spilling from its tip—and made minute motions with the pad of his thumb to calm himself down. His chest raised with shallow breaths as he looked down at you now, eyes heavily lidded with lust and wanting. 

“Fuck it—” He hissed and without warning, reached his other hand around the back of your head, pushing your nose into his balls as he began to jerk off. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise at his sudden actions.

From where you were kneeling you could already see Rachel and Rose giving their partners full-on blowjobs, completely forgetting the game they had agreed to earlier. The sensation in your stomach moved down to your clothed sex, and you could feel a tingling sensation as he rubbed your face obscenely against his balls, moaning with need.

“Open your mouth —oh fuck— please.” His voice sounded strangled as he held you at the base of his cock, masturbating desperately to chase his release.

You obliged his request, opening up and taking his balls into your mouth, looking up at him as you felt his grip on the nape of your neck tighten. He was clearly getting off from the sight of you beneath him, massaging thoroughly with the flat of your tongue. He brought your head back and, with his other hand, held his cock by the base. 

He groaned again when he saw your lips now glossy with spit. “Open f’me again, baby?” he asked despite the fact that the tip of his cock was already being pressed to your lips. Your cheeks warmed as he let out a moaning “fuuuck” when you opened your mouth again to allow him inside. He pushed your head down deeper to take all of him in, and your eyes began to water as the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat. 

“You don’t know how fucking pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, Y/N,” he murmured, releasing the pressure off your head for you to catch your breath. He let out a short laugh as if your gasping for air was funny to him.

“Had no idea you were such a fucking slut under all those clothes. How’re you a virgin when you’re takin’ my cock this good, hm?” His voice was gentle and soft but borderline condescending as he spoke. 

Jason brushed away a tear from your eye and leaned over to bring you into an open-mouthed and sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. A string of saliva connected at both of your lips when you separated. 

“Gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours. Keep it open,” He instructed. Within seconds he was guiding your head back on his cock, bucking up into your mouth and against your throat. You made a garbled sound, which only seemed to make him thrust harder. 

“Oh fu— that’s so fuckin’ good, baby keep doin’ that,” he moaned, though you weren’t doing much except letting your head loll up and down like a brainless doll with the support of his hand at the back of your neck. 

The living room was now filled with the pleasured moans of the three boys and the gagging ‘gluck gluck’ sounds of the three girls as each of them fucked into your mouths, getting off on the lewdly slick sounds of their cocks pistoning in and out in a relentless rhythm. Your mouths became just another hole for them to fuck.

“Shit—” His hips stuttered; he was close. He brought both hands to your head pushing it down so your nose pressed against his base. “You know how to swallow right, baby?” He grunted. 

You couldn’t respond with words readily—your nose was plugged and his cock clogged your windpipe— instead, your throat closed over his tip, as if a Pavlovian response to his question. He groaned and not shortly after, you felt his hot cum shooting down your throat. 

When his softening cock finally left your mouth, you swallowed his sticky release as best as you could with your punished throat. He swiped some of the cum the had dribbled down your lips with his thumb and pushed it past your lips, making you suck it. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said breathlessly as he watched you suck his thumb, mesmerized by the way your eyes locked on him. A loud moan from Gar interrupted, making both you and Jason tear your eyes off each other. The green-haired boy was currently stroking his cum onto Rose’s waiting tongue. About a minute later, Conner came too. 

It was only then that you realized that Jason had come the fastest; faster than the “handicap” he’d claimed Gar to be.

“So…I’m guessing that means we won?” Rachel had already started pulling her clothes back on. Since she started dressing, everyone else mundanely followed suit. 

Jason tugged his jeans back on, “Sure. Fine. Whatever, we’re all yours for the next three months,” he sounded less than enthused but still took the time to find your discarded tank top and jeans and toss them over to you as well.

Rose threw her shirt back on and adjusted her eyepatch. “Girls, what are we thinking? Anything we want our new servants to do for us?”

“Hmm…” You tapped your chin in mock thought, giving Jason a sly look that could give one of his own cheeky smirks a run for its money. “Oh, I‘ve got a few ideas.”

©️ blackreaderfics // dividers by cafekitsune & poison-aesthetics

[bayfuzzball7050]

My favourite jjba character(s) from each part bc I know it will be more appreciated here than in a Reddit thread

I’ll use this header from now on to yap

Phantom Blood: Speedwagon. Regardless if it’s a whole meme in the community, o genuinely think it’s very brave of him to follow along in an adventure where everyone has powers but he doesn’t. He just raw dog’s every supernatural event and tries his best to be useful. It’s a noble thing.

Battle Tendency: Definitely Caesar Zeppeli. A much more complex and interesting character than his predecessor (William Zeppeli, I mean). I loved his design, personality and charisma regardless if I couldn’t resonate at all with his backstory. I also really enjoyed his rivalry/friendship with Joseph. I’ve always loved the smart/snarky guy x himbo dynamic!

Stardust Crusaders: I love kakyoin with all my heart and soul and I will never shut up about it. I resonated deeply with him since I know personally what it is like to be alone. I like how Araki portrayed his loneliness in a ‘im different than everyone I know’ way where he couldn’t relate to people the way others that. That childhood monologue— god! It hit so, so close to home. I couldn’t help but cry when the scene came up. That is when I realized how much the crusaders mattered to him. A bunch of people ‘like him’ and it’s such a sacred feeling when you’ve been feeling ‘off’ all your life. I also like that he’s always giving little fun facts he’s a bit like yapdollar

Diamond Is Unbreakable: Okuyasu. No question needed. Unlike his brother, Okuyasu is a very kind soul that has never killed anyone (at least on screen) even when he has endured so much abuse from his brother and father alike, something that would ‘justify it’ if he did became an evil character. He stopped looking for a way to kill his father because he can see the good in people and ‘accept them for who they are’. I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him. He had taken what his brother had told him about being better off dead so personally to the point where his first question after being healed by Josuke was (paraphrasing bc I don’t remember well) was something like “why did you save me when it would’ve been easier to let me die?”. Josuke came just in time to make him realize how much he actually mattered so he could evolve into the little goofball we all know and love.

Golden Wind: Giorno. I think most people who call him a ‘boring’ or ‘plain’ character often seem to forget that, of course, Giorno will not be a charismatic, sociable, talkative, — joseph — kind of guy. He was severely emotionally and physically neglected in his childhood to the point where showing emotions became useless since he knew he’d be left shaking in his craddle. From this emotional neglect, he started looking up at a gangster as some sort of parental figure. Someone who showed him basic human decency. Later, we get to see his ingenuity in battle. But I think one of the reasons he was so clever in life or death situations was because he has been in a ‘fight or flight’ mode since a very young age. He isn’t even ‘bottling up’ his emotions, he had repressed them deeply inside his brain to survive.

Stone Ocean: The main three. But mainly Foo Fighters bc they’re so silly >_< and I can’t begin to imagine how marvellous it has to be to, one day, become a sentient being

Steel Ball Run: I can’t quite decide between Gyro and Johnny tbh. Johnny is a character who had been always pampered with his ‘rich life’ and was then shocked with the fact that once you’re not useful, or worse, become inconvenient for people, they stop caring about you. I often think about how bad his father was with him, not only rubbing Nicholas’ death all over his face rather often, the whole “God, you took the wrong son” page or just how he never went by to visit him when he had just gotten crippled. It was just plain cruel. Also when they followed Hot Pants to a church and Johnny had to relive some of his most traumatic life experiences again and still try to win. It was one of the best arcs in sbr imo.

Gyro, on another note, wasn’t a son of a wealthy family but had to carry the weight of generations and generations of knowledge on top of the family profession on his shoulders, having to execute a child. He’s also a silly goofball with his jokes that make little to no sense and him trying to explain the spin to johnny in life or death situations always has me cackling up ngl.

Jojolion: I haven’t started to read JOJOLION, but from what I’ve seen, Gappy seems to be a silly goofball who lacks direction and I love that in a man. Also that he’s a 2 x 1 combo, literally.

Jojolands: I haven’t read jojolands either, but good lord they sold me Dragona and Paco when I heard ‘transgender’ and ‘laburantes’. Plus everyone from the Jodio team also seems to be lacking direction and being a pinch silly

[teasemates]

Case: Robin

Steve sat on the sofa with his laptop. He finally had time to take a look at the Onlyfans account stuff he hadn't had the opportunity to look through because being busy at work, having to do double shifts because both of the other baristas at the cafe were sick.

His eyes grew large when he opened the request listing. There were over 40 new ones.

He started to go through the requests and the further he got, the wider his eyes opened. He felt his cheeks heating—something he'd experienced during these last few weeks way more times than he'd ever had—as he read them. Of course he'd known the followers would ask for plain porn but he hadn't expected all this. It didn't mean he wasn't ready to try all of them at some point, he was just surprised.

But not as surprised as he was when he saw the number of tips they'd gotten so far: $3,080

“Uhm…Billy? Come see this. I think…I think we've created a monster.”

Billy was sitting on the couch, gripping his Playstation controller as he played a video game - something about the wild west and a dead sheriff escaping Hell. He’d heard some kids at the pool talk about it and he’d gotten curious. With the few tips they’ve already made from the Onlyfans account he could afford to splurge on a new game.

He hadn’t expected there to be so many people engaging with the profile right from the start so it was becoming a little overwhelming - it was work, chores, Onlyfans profile stuff… Where did his free time go?— But at least they were making money. And a lot easier than finding a second job. Just the thought of it made Billy feel like he could die.

Billy was shooting at some enemies when Steve called to him. “What—” He glanced at him for a second, and in that split second he got shot. He could barely manage to bring out the menu to pause the game, before he ended up dying. “What is it?” he asked, leaving the controller on the table as he scooted closer to Steve, peeking into his opened laptop. “We didn’t get banned or something, right?”

After reading through all the requests, having Billy sitting next to him so close felt awkward all of a sudden. Not in a bad way but in a whole another way. Some of the requests were asking them two engaging in sexual activities and Steve wasn't exactly sure if he was yet ready for that. He was barely acknowledging that he had feelings towards Billy and not at all sure if those would ever be reciprocated.

He swallowed and tried to chase those thoughts away from his mind. He turned the laptop for Billy to see better. “No, I think this is on the contrary.” He pointed at the amount of tips, then at the requests. “We're getting serious money with this.” He couldn't help blush creeping on his face, knowing that Billy would look at the requests as well. He tried to direct Billy's attention away from them. “And it seems that we also need to invest on some accessories.”

Billy noticed Steve shifting in his place awkwardly but he paid it no mind. Since starting this account, both of them had been realizing things weren’t as simple as just taking a picture. Billy was finding himself thinking about Steve more often, in more sexual ways… and he couldn’t allow himself to entertain these thoughts when there were face to face. He knew that there would come a time when they would do some of these stuff together and he needed to be cool, think of this like being in the locker room - don’t stare for more than 2 seconds and mind your own business. He even felt more pressure to act cool with it since he’d seen Steve had been getting shy and embarrassed. Furthermore, he’d noticed that he’d also stopped making eye contact often, kept his distance a bit more and Billy was getting scared if this account was pushing them away rather than closer…

Billy stared at disbelief at the wall of requests on the screen. He scrolled and they just kept going. “What the—” he mumbled, eyes scanning over the lines. Flush started to creep up his neck as his eyes landed on one particularly descriptive one. “How—what— how much money is this?” he tripped over his words, fighting with himself about starting the conversation of what they actually wanted to do. Would they decline some? Would they try to do them all? Would they—

Billy’s face was completely red when he turned the laptop back to Steve.

“You know— we don’t have to do them all.” Billy hurried to say, worried that if Steve was starting to pull away before, this would be enough to scare him completely. “If you’re not comfortable with it…”

Seeing that Billy was clearly as flustered about the prompts felt comforting. It wasn't like they'd known that this was what it all was about, but it had still clearly surprised them both. “We're now at over 3000 dollars. Just in a few weeks.”

He grimaced and tried to take a calming breath. Even though he might've not felt ready, the thought of doing all those things with Billy was exciting, he couldn't deny it. And it wasn't like he hadn't ever watched porn. Seeing these things live in front of him, doing them to and with Billy, though… Even if it would never lead to anything else it would be all the porn he'd ever need for the rest of his life.

This had been Billy's idea. He could've said no, but he'd agreed to it. It wasn't like he would be backing out now when it was time to walk the walk.

He bit his lip, shaking his head. “No, the requests ar–are, um…they'r–they're fine,” he stammered. He felt himself burning all the way up to the tips of his ears. He willed himself to glance at Billy. “People paid for us to do them. It's not like we can ignore them.”

Billy's eyes almost fell out when he heard 3000. He broke his back working like a dog for half of that and they got it now just sitting around at home.

Money was a good thing but… He pushed himself to put it aside for now. It was an astronomical sum of money, but he didn't want to put money above his relationship with Steve.

"Listen, I'm serious, forget about the money." he reached out and nudged his arm with his hand. He really missed Steve looking at him when they talked, missed sitting close… Maybe Steve didn't noticed he was shying away from it now, but Billy did. "If there is anything you really don't want to do, don't force yourself just because people paid for it. We were managing without that money so far, we won't die without it. We can just refund it."

It was soothing to know that Billy didn't want to push it with whatever price. But Steve also realised that Billy was not going to let him off the hook until he assured that…

Everyone thought he was a vanilla guy, wanting it in one position throughout his life, preferably in the dark and with a woman. He wasn't, he just hadn't had anyone willing to try them with. Well, not before now. And he'd always thought that the person he'd try these things with would be someone he had an established relationship with before trying.

“It's not that I don't want to do them.” He looked at Billy. “Alright? I really am fine with them. Or at least most of them. There's stuff, you know… I've wanted to try.” He was sure he was beet red by now. He'd kept his feelings a secret and this whole Onlyfans thing had forced him to process them. Maybe it wasn't that bad if he'd say something about them, at first at least. To see how Billy would react. He took a deep breath. “Just didn't expect it to be you I'd be trying them with, and…” he said quietly. A smile tucked the corner of his mouth and he nudged Billy's leg with his knee. “I'm fine with that too. It's just new, okay?”

Billy swallowed hard, flush deep on his face. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to do those things with Steve - hell, he wanted to run to his bedroom and jerk off just imagining some of those. But… it was scary. He’d never done some of these things before, and it was nerve wracking thinking about doing them in front of a camera too.

“I guess… um… I don't know if I'm ready to do anything too big yet.” he admitted, redness going up to his ears. “I know what I said, but…” he glanced at Steve, before looking away quickly. “There are some… really heavy requests and I… I'm sorry Steve.” he covered his face with his palms. “I'm the one who talked you into this, and now I'm chickening out— I’m not chickening out!” he corrected himself, pulling his hands off his face. “I’m still down to do the stuff–I’m just– It’s new for me too.”

Steve let out a nervous laugh. “It's okay. We can do the heavier ones when we feel ready. We don't have to rush to it. And because, uh…doing stuff in front of the camera…I mean, I could take pics of myself like that, I guess, but some of those require two hands and, uh… yeah. Lot's of things to get used to.”

He tried to keep his eyes on his laptop. He knew he had this stupid, wide grin on his totally flustered face and he couldn't reel it in. He hadn't felt this close to Billy maybe ever. They were doing something special together and not only that but something that maybe would bring them even closer. Or so Steve at least hoped.

He decided to change the subject. “Anyway, I was thinking…we're getting more and more requests all the time and some of them require all these props and then there's handling the money. Since we're busy with the requests and then we have to work too and you know that I suck with money, what would you think if we asked Robin to help a little? Like, she could be like an assistant or something. Get the props and manage the money for us, maybe help if we need to get new equipment like camera and lights too.”

“Yeah…” Billy chuckled, heat still on his cheeks as he lifted his eyes to Steve’s face. Billy wanted to do all of them, especially with Steve, just… maybe it was going to be best to not rush with the more heavy ones. Just go with what feels comfortable and have fun. They’d seen each other naked before, they’d never been shy to touch each other. Never like that, but just in general. So he wouldn’t overthink it.

He smiled at Steve, less shy and nervous and more cheeky and playful, like it always had been between them.

“You’re right.” Billy pressed his head backwards on the couch with a groan. “I can’t keep track of it all anymore. I didn’t think it would get so complicated so fast!” he stretched his arms back. “Would be great to have some help. Do you think she’d go for it?”

Steve looked at Billy and shrugged. “I did show her some of the pics we’ve already shared and she was…surprised. Not in a bad way, just maybe she didn’t quite expect us being willing to do the stuff we’ve already done,” he said. “Like the cow and lamb costume thing. But she’s definitely not ready for these numbers.” He paused, amused. “Nor for the accessories she needs to buy for us.” He leaned his head against the backrest and looked at Billy, grinning. “I’ll give her a call and we’ll see. If my hunch is right she’s not entirely unfamiliar with all that stuff.”

___

This is Billy's and Steve's Onlyfans RP account. Billy and Steve are "running" the account, the team behind it is Aggressiveviking & Suometar. Feel free to play into or out of the rp in any way you like, all interactions are welcome 💕💕

[1d1195]

Traditional IV

Nothing like being quarantined in June of 2023 to get a little timely writing done. I hope you enjoy this part, I feel like it's moving a little too slowly but I promise I have some pretty good plans and I hope you'll find it's worth the wait.

Accidentally a little close to 6K words, whoops. Read the rest here: Traditional

She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

She took a deep breath as the driver stopped in front of Harry’s home. It was her first time here and while she thought Harry had been nothing but a gentleman over the last month, she also knew this was his home and that meant it was his rules. Added to the fact that Niall touched her (albeit in a friendly way), she thought she might not make it out of here.

She opened the car door and started up the pathway to the front door. The only time Harry ever let her open her own door was when he wasn’t around. For the evening she decided on her favorite pair of black jeans. They were stretchy and comfy despite being jeans. They went with everything too. And instead of a zipper there were just three buttons. Per her personality, she didn’t think she looked good in much, but these were all but magic jeans that (objectively) made her butt look good. She paired the good jeans with a plain bright blue T-shirt. Nothing special. Harry said dress comfortably.

She knocked twice on the door swallowing a lump in her throat.

It was as if Harry was waiting by the door because her hand hadn’t even made its way back to her side. She released a breath she was holding as Harry smirked at her. “Hey beautiful,” he hummed sweetly. The idea that a man as gorgeous as Harry Styles looked at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble and still called her beautiful was enough to make her pass out. He didn’t seem the same bit as irritated as he was earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t get an earful after all.

“Hi.”

“Y’nervous?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Y’know you’re supposed t’be nervous because m’your boss’s boss not because of this. This was my choice.”

“Both were your choice.”

“I already told you, love, Niall picked you,” she twitched very slightly at Niall’s name. Harry of course noticed. His smirk deepened.  “C’mon,” he tilted his head toward the inside. Sliding past him, she heard the door click shut behind him.

Harry’s house was pretty big for one person. She liked how open it was: the staircase was right in front of the door. It led to a little area that overlooked the main room. Almost like a loft. The main room flowed into a dining room and the kitchen, side by side. All rooms were still very open. She of course didn’t know which rooms were down the hall, but it was honestly the home she dreamed of. She could see through the slider he had a big back yard and a porch swing looking over the yard.

Whenever this thing with her and Harry ended, she would have to kindly ask for the floorplans. This place was perfect. She was in awe he was willing to slum it in her small (but no less beautiful—he did pick it out after all) apartment for the last month.

“Y’okay, love?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen island while she looked around the rooms. It was sparsely decorated. Anne and Gemma were always on him about that. But he was waiting for someone to decorate it for him...someone like her.

“This house is beautiful.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, kitten.”

“I want the floor plans,” no time like the present to ask.

He wanted to say there was no need for her to have them. He wanted to say the house was all hers. It didn’t even feel like home until she stepped inside. She hadn’t even sat down yet, and Harry could hardly breathe, feeling how whole he felt with just her presence gazing out the window. Harry nearly proposed because the idea of her living in a house without him seemed ridiculous. He grinned. “Will do, love...can I get you something t’drink?”

*

They ended up on the porch swing after dinner. She kicked her shoes and held the glass of wine in her hands. Tomorrow was Saturday so she didn’t seem to mind drinking today. Harry made her Ramen, and they ate it at the table before moving outside. “You’re a very good cook,” she told him to which he smiled so brightly at the compliment she thought she might go blind.

With one foot tucked under her and the other one dangled over the edge, her toe was barely touching the ground. Harry, with the longest legs in the world was flat footed on the ground, gently rocking the pair of them. Harry was so close to her she could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Are y’warm enough, kitten?” He asked. Every time they were together, he worried she would be freezing all so she wouldn’t inconvenience him.

She nodded. “Wine makes me warm,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Good.” They sat silently for a bit. Listening to the sounds of the outdoors. Harry scrolled on his phone for a moment, something he hated to do while he was with her, but he couldn’t help it much when he was constantly getting notifications about his business. “Sorry, love,” he said softly as he checked on one important notification.

“It’s really okay,” she promised sipping her wine. “I feel bad I’m here interrupting your evening to begin with.”

He frowned and put his phone back in his pocket. “Kitten, you’re so confident at work...and y’should be of course...how come you’re so hard on yourself outside of work?”

She shrugged. “I know I’m good at working, I’m not very good at the whole relationship thing...obviously. Even more so the whole companionship thing either.”

His frown deepened and he watched as she sipped from her glass. She cradled it in both hands nervously rubbing her thumbs along the sides. “I don’t know what y’mean by ‘obviously.’”

“Well, I was previously in a relationship for three years but the reason it ended is because I caught him fucking another woman in our bed,” she said bluntly. Harry’s eyebrows perked up. He hadn’t heard her swear once since he’d known her. “I would assume that was because I wasn’t good enough...so now I’m not sure I know how to be a girlfriend...I feel like I certainly don’t know how to be a companion.”

Harry put his hand to his mouth, trying to think of all the words he wanted to say next. “Love, your ex is a proper idiot,” he said. “His...unfaithfulness has nothing t’do with you. He is so wrong for losing you,” Harry let the words sit between them for a few moments. She was quiet. Harry waited for her to say something or to let the emotions filter through her brain. In a matter of a month, she had a boyfriend, didn’t have a boyfriend, started an internship, a companionship, and moved into a new apartment. There couldn’t have been much time for her to process everything.

Harry didn’t care if they sat there the rest of the night. She needed to know that, and she needed to know she was perfect. Her ex was a complete moron for losing her. Harry wasn’t even dating her, and he was ready to kiss the ground she walked on just to exist. Eventually, she bit her lip and quietly whispered to him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t need a thank you. So he continued his assurance that she was all but angelic. “As for this,” he gestured between the two of them. “I know ’ve only known you a month...and I know you’re new at this, but you’re lovely. I really believe that. There aren’t really rights or wrongs when it comes t’this,” he promised.

“I haven’t even slept with you yet...let alone kiss you,” she muttered. “I’m the worst at this.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Have you done this before?”

There was a beat of silence. Harry didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable but he would rather die than lie to her. “A couple times,” he admitted. “Not in a few years.”

She nodded. “How come...you don’t make me sleep with you?”

He snorted at the implication. “Kitten.”

“Well,” she rolled her eyes. “I mean...you could...not pay me. This could be over.”

He could just tell her right now that he was in love with her. More than the first day he met her. Harry didn’t believe in love at first sight. He had dated a good amount before her. No one ever took his breath away like she did, so he was certain it had to be love. Harry never got jealous before today...especially because of his best friend. “Do y’want it t’be over?” He decided to ask instead.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to say this without putting my foot in my mouth so I’m just going to say it and know I’m not trying to offend you,” she paused and looked at him for a moment. He nodded his head. “Despite our arrangement, I’m really glad I met you. I like hanging out with you. And I think you’re right...I wouldn’t have found someone as nice as you if you didn’t come along.”

He smirked. “And outbid them?” He winked.

“That’s not why I picked you,” she rolled her eyes. “I told you what I wanted.” They sat quietly side by side, rocking gently for another moment. In all her efforts to avoid the topic of Niall, she felt she had no choice but to ask herself. “Did you tell Niall about us?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I want to, though.”

She frowned. “Any way I could convince you otherwise?” She asked tentatively. She tapped out a rhythm on her glass with her fingertips.

He chuckled and shook his head. “He’s very discreet. And he already knows you,” Harry reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be nice not t’hide it with someone at work?”

“Isn’t he going to look at me like I’m...”

“He’s not going t’look at y’like anything but you, love.”

She sighed. “It’s your show,” she shrugged.

“I won’t tell him if y’don’t want me to,” he answered with a shrug of his own.

She turned to him, her foot that was previously tucked under her, fell back toward the ground. “You won’t?”

He sipped his own glass of wine. “If s’gonna make you uncomfortable, of course not.”

She sucked her lip into her mouth. “I’ve never met any guy like you before, Harry.”

He smiled. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think it might be my favorite thing.”

The idea that any part of Harry’s personality was her favorite anything had him nearly bubbling with excitement. He wanted to kiss her for the rest of the night and maybe all day tomorrow too. “You can tell Niall...he is your best friend.”

He could feel his face smiling so much he looked at the glass in his hands. He would tell Niall tomorrow when they golfed bright and early. “Do y’like Niall?” He asked quietly.

“I do,” she said and Harry thought he might die. His heart seemed to stop beating all together. “He’s my boss. He’s a great teacher and—”

Harry shook his head and swallowed a bit nervously. He didn’t want her to like him. “No...love...I mean...” he trailed off.

She tilted her head at him in confusion and then at once her eyebrows shifted up in surprise. “Harry,” she said softly.

“Look,” he started. “I...I don’t think you’re like this, but ’ve had girlfriends and companions only like me for m’money and they don’t...” he shook his head. “If y’like Niall I just want t’know.”

She frowned, thought for a moment and then leaned toward Harry and quickly pecked him on the cheek. Like an absolute child he thought about never washing his cheek again. She rested her head against his arm and Harry tried to stay perfectly still so as not to move out of this perfect position. Eventually, she shook her head. “If...if you stopped paying me, I’d still want t’be friends. I don’t like Niall like that, I promise.”

His heart soared. “You would?” He asked.

“Do you have any friends besides Niall? Or are all your friends paid for?” She giggled cutely.

He chuckled at her joke. “I have other friends.”

“I’d...like to meet them sometime, if that’s possible.”

Harry didn’t know how to tell her she would meet them at their wedding, so he just said, “sure thing, kitten.”

*

Harry didn’t really know how to broach the topic to Niall, so he just went for it. Right as he took one of his first swings. “Are you kidding me, Harry!?” He shouted. “You messed up my shot!” Smirking, Harry leaned a bit on his club waiting for Niall to process the words he said. “How much do you pay her?”

“None of your business.”

“I would have been your companion if I knew you’d pay me more.”

“You’re not my type,” he said unaffected by Niall’s quip. “You still make more than her,” he shrugged. Harry knew it wasn’t about that though. “She didn’t even want that much. She just wanted enough t’pay for her apartment.”

“This is proof you don’t pay attention to me when I send the intern information to you,” Niall noted.

“I trust you,” he rolled his eyes lining up his tee to take his shot. “You had no idea?”

Niall shook his head. He waited quietly and patiently for Harry to swing. “I thought you just liked her.”

“Well, I do,” he admitted. “A lot.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to make everything the most complicated thing in the world.”

“We all have our talents, Niall,” he deadpanned. Snorting Niall shook his head putting his club back into the bag and getting into the golf cart. “She’s nervous you’ll treat her different.”

“If I didn’t know for the last month, I would say it doesn’t affect her work ethic or anything. I wouldn’t treat her differently if you told me before.”

Harry nodded. “Good.” They were quiet as they got to their next shots and finished the hole. Gathering their belongings, Harry drove them to the next one. “I really like her,” he told him.

Niall could tell that Harry really liked her. He never got too attached to girls or wispy about them. He certainly didn’t concoct a day of golf for Niall to talk about them. As Harry’s best friend he was very grateful he had found someone he liked so much. Even if it was naturally complicated. Niall smirked. “Good for you,” he said almost if he was congratulating Harry. “You deserve a nice, sweet, girl,” he told him. “I will take full credit at the wedding that you wouldn’t have met her if I didn’t pick her to be my intern.”

Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled at his friend as they got ready for the next hole.

But there was no way Harry could deny how dreamy it felt to think about marrying the pretty girl.

*

During her Starbucks runs she always forwarded the office phone to her cellphone. Carrying the tray containing Niall and Harry’s drinks, she had her shoulder pressed to hold the phone in place next to her ear. Additionally, she picked up a bunch of documents for Niall at the print shop and since then it had been nonstop phone calls. So, her hands were full. She thanked the man on the elevator for pressing the button for her and hurried off to settle the items down.

She turned the corner to her office, and it took her several moments after the fact to realize what happened. She heard someone screaming and it was a full minute before she noticed it was herself that screamed. “Holy shit,” she didn’t know the guy that bumped into her. In a daze she thought that maybe she had never seen him before this very moment. But her skin was burning, the empty coffee cups were on the floor and the documents were everywhere.

All she could manage to think about was how glad she was she wore pants and a chunky sweater today.

She was gasping like the air wasn’t coming fast enough and was still unsure why. “Darling?” Niall was suddenly there shoving him out of the way, he put his hands on her shoulders and tried to gather the attention of her eyes. She had to be in shock. All she knew was that she was in so much pain. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s okay,” he promised calmly. He was assessing the situation, looking her up and down seeing if he could figure out how to help so she didn’t get sent into a full-blown panic. It seemed she already was and of course Niall didn’t blame her. Her skin was probably burning. She was covered in hot liquid. Her clothes soaked and probably burning her skin. It didn’t get her face, just her shirt seemed to take the brunt of it and she was so glad she opted for a thicker sweater this chilly fall morning. It very well could have been the difference between a first and second degree burn that was still stinging her skin. Niall gently tugged her through the puddle of liquid at their feet ruining her cute shoes. Niall didn’t even pay any mind to his polished dress shoes getting splashed with coffee. His only concern seemed to be her. “Come on, let’s get you—”

“What happened?”

She had never heard Harry sound like that before in the two and a half months she was interning. The din of background noise stopped at the sound of his voice. Everyone was silent. Obviously, he never sounded like that outside of work either. She was certain it reset her shocked brain. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the sting of her shirt sticking to her burned skin. Definitely first or second degree. “M’okay,” she managed but she was trying so hard not to cry in pain in front of literally everyone that came out of their offices to hear her scream and then Harry’s angry tone. He shoved Niall roughly out of the way and she swore she saw Niall smirk at his friend. It almost made her smile, but she was in too much pain to focus on it now. She knew that Niall knew, but true to Harry’s words, Niall made no implication that it changed her relationship with him. Niall pretended like he didn’t know. Or if he wanted to mention it, he didn’t seem to care. Harry grabbed her by the wrist after ensuring it was okay to touch her by a quick scan of noting it was probably the only part of her that wasn’t in pain.

Harry wanted to kill himself for ordering a hot beverage.

“I’m so sorry,” the man that bumped into her whispered.

“You can shut up,” Harry snapped. She couldn’t say anything because she was still in pain and still trying to process anything that happened. “You, pack your stuff,” he snarled directly to the man that she still didn’t even know his name. He blanched at the notion. She gaped.

“That’s not—”

“Let’s go,” he snapped not letting her finish. He marched her away from the puddle of hot liquid and down to his office.

Niall followed behind, grabbing her phone off the floor before it was submerged in tea and coffee. “Don’t pack yet,” she heard him mutter to the poor guy.

“Mr. Styles,” she whispered just in case anyone was listening. She didn’t like to call him Harry in front of anyone except Niall. She knew others weren’t given the privilege and she didn’t want to be treated differently. “Please slow down,” she begged. While her upper body definitely was in worse shape than her legs that were mostly protected by her pants, the stinging pain of her burns amplified as her clothing brushed painfully against her skin. “It hurts,” she croaked. Harry’s hand loosened his grip on her wrist and he slowed his pace breathing out in nearly heavy pants. “M’okay,” she promised.

Harry wanted to scoop her in his arms and carry her the rest of the way. The last ten meters seemed endless as he watched her walk carefully to his office. She was trying not to cry, and it made Harry want to set himself on fire just to see her in pain.

Niall followed behind a few moments later just as she got to the door and Harry slammed the door shut to his office. “You can’t fire him, Harry,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Look at her,” he snapped. “What do y’need, angel?” He cooed, he cupped her face and she felt so embarrassed that Niall was right there to see it all. This would surely make him treat her differently. Somehow, despite all the burns, Harry calling her angel and touching her face was enough to turn her cheeks warm against Harry’s cool hands. She wanted him to touch all over her aching skin. The duality of his tone between Niall and her was so shocking she forgot how to speak. “Should I take her to the hospital?” He asked Niall.

She shook her head quickly. “M’fine,” she promised bravely the tears still stinging the back of her eyes as much as her skin.

Niall was looking at his phone. “You’re supposed to rinse in barely warm water, darling. Should be cold, really.”

Harry turned away from her for the first time and hurried to the closet of his office that she never really paid any mind to. But as she watched Harry the closet was actually a bathroom and if she wasn’t in so much pain, she probably would have made a joke about it. He started grabbing a towel and all kinds of spa things. “I don’t have any clothes,” she said softly to Niall. Her cheeks felt like they were reddening by the second. This was so embarrassing. “Can I have my phone?” She sniffled. He held it out to her tentatively, having wiped it off on his leg of any last coffee. She would have to get his clothes dry cleaned. She tapped on Eleanor’s number.

“Hey love, how’s your day?” Louis answered the phone. It wasn’t uncommon. They often had their lunch breaks together since they worked a mere block away from one another.

“Louis, I need Eleanor to bring me some clothes,” she mumbled looking at Harry making sure everything was in place from the open door.

“Ooh, finally let Harry fuck your brains out. How naughty you did it at work.”

She sniffled. “No...” she shook her head hating that she couldn’t laugh at his joke.

“Oh, hey, babe. What happened? Are you alright?” He asked.

Eleanor must have taken the phone from him. “What’s wrong?” She asked.

“S’nothing. I just need you to bring me clothes,” she sniffled, and the tears finally escaped. “Please.”

“Yeah, of course. Of course, love. What do you want?”

She didn’t want to wear anything, but she had to be professional. She wished she was by herself, and Niall and Harry weren’t in earshot. “I...I think I burned my whole body,” she whimpered. “El, it hurts,” she sniffled. “I...loose pants, a loose blouse,” she told her.

“Darling, you can wear something comfortable,” Niall said. “Don’t worry about the outfit,” he promised.

“Oh, love,” she cooed. “I got it, I got it. I’ll be right there, fifteen minutes. Just have someone send me the information I need,” she said.

“We’re on our way, love,” Louis promised taking the phone back for a moment before they hung up. She opened her phone to her message thread with Louis and Eleanor and handed it to Niall. “Can you just tell them how to get up here?” She asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. She told him what her passcode was in case the screen locked on him. Niall took a seat on the couch on the opposite side of Harry’s office.

“C’mere,” Harry said and gestured to the bathroom.

This had to be the most embarrassing day of her life. She slowly made her way toward the bathroom feeling like the stinging was now a permanent fixture on her body and after all the shock was officially out of her body it hurt more than it did five minutes ago. She was dreading the look at her skin. “Harry, you can’t fire him,” she said.

“It’s my company,” she could tell it was taking a lot of restraint from snapping at her.

“Please,” she begged. He didn’t respond but he saw the way his shoulders deflated just a hair.

“Louis and Eleanor are bringing you clothes?” He asked.

She nodded. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.” Harry closed the bathroom door. “Harry...” she said softly, nervously. He turned the water on in the shower and let it run.

“That should run for at least five minutes,” he told her.

Which just meant there would just be five minutes until Eleanor was here to help her. She leaned back against the counter, eyes closed, trying not to think about how much pain she was in. She supposed it was better than when it initially happened, but she kind of wished the shock was still there to keep her from noticing.

“Y’can probably get in now,” he told her.

Her face burned in embarrassment. “Harry,” she tried again.

“I won’t look. M’not leaving this room if you’re by yourself. If y’pass out, m’not letting you lay in the shower. Just until Eleanor gets here,” he promised. He turned around and faced the door. He stood there silently. Her chest ached almost as much as her skin. It drove her nuts that everyone on the entire floor knew she was in here with Harry and Niall. She was sure the rumors would be awful in a matter of moments. Harry still hadn’t seen her naked and she didn’t want at work to be the first place for it to happen.

“Kitten, please try,” he whispered quietly. “M’really upset you’re hurt,” he told her. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and she could hear how upset he sounded. It was like he was in pain from the burn almost as much as she was.

Assuming Harry wasn’t backing down she decided it was now or never. She sniffled and tried to reach for her shoes but immediately regretted it. She inhaled sharply and stood straight up. “Can you help me with my shoes? I can’t bend,” she whispered. He turned around immediately and knelt to the floor. He carefully picked her foot up, almost cradling her ankle. His fingers skimmed along her ankle strap and unbuckled it. She couldn’t believe how intimate it felt just for Harry to be holding her foot. Carefully he pulled her shoe off and then started on the other. Almost losing her balance she grabbed the counter.

Harry was wildly aware of what this looked like.

Which is why when Eleanor pushed the door open, gasped, then pulled it shut almost as quickly, Harry froze with his hand grasping her ankle. “Whoops, sorry,” she muttered outside the door. “Good for him,” she heard Louis say almost proudly.

She put a hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. She honestly thought Niall was probably thinking of ways to fire her solely for her friends being idiots. Harry smirked despite everything, and she was actually grateful for Louis’ joke at her expense because she hated the idea that Harry was upset because of her. “Suppose that’s m’cue,” he murmured.

“Great,” she sighed.

He stood up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “M’glad you’re okay, kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’d be so lucky,” he said causing her skin to warm more than the burn.

*

Eleanor chatted with her throughout the shower and was there to help her with her clothes. She was glad she didn’t have to say it in front of Niall and Harry, but Eleanor knew to bring one of her looser bralettes without an offensive band that could hide under her shirt. She was also grateful that she clearly heard Niall about the comfortable clothing because she wouldn’t be caught dead in this office with a pair of leggings for fear of unprofessionalism. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked at her.

She glanced at the doors hoping no one out there heard Eleanor. She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that at work.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” El shrugged. “He’s really cute.”

“He can hear you,” she shook her head whispering nervously.

“No, Louis texted they both left to give you privacy. It’s just Louis out there.”

“Who are we to judge what kind of physical medicine you need in a time of crisis?” He asked through the closed door.

“Are you alright?” Eleanor asked. She nodded. The shower helped significantly even if it was freezing cold. “I brought some petroleum jelly,” she said. “Do you want help, or do you want me to do it?” She asked.

“I can do it,” she said and glanced in the mirror at her body for the first time.

“I think your sweater saved you,” Eleanor said.

She nodded. “That and my iced coffee,” she remarked. Her skin was red, one or two spots where the initial impact must have hit would blister, right below her bra-line but she was extremely lucky. The burns did extend to her thighs but other than that she was okay. The stinging was now just a dull ache. She slathered the ointment all over her skin. Everywhere it hurt. She nearly sighed with relief.

It took another five minutes for Eleanor to help her with her clothing and make sure she looked okay. She put on more makeup so she could feel whole again. She was already dreading leaving this office with wet hair. Eleanor opened the door to see Louis sitting on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom.

“You alright, babe?” He asked, standing to join the little party. Louis sat on the closed toilet lid.

She nodded. “Much better. Thank you.”

“Harry left this,” he said holding out a first aid kit. Eleanor placed it on the counter to deal with after the makeup.

“You should ask to go home,” Eleanor said as she reapplied her mascara. “We’ll drive you home before we go back to work.”

She shook her head. “I have to do a few more things...I have to replace those files....and I never got my coffee,” she opened the first aid kit to pull out gauze and she slathered it with more petroleum jelly.

Louis chuckled. “You’re definitely okay.”

“Harry was going to fire the guy that bumped into me,” she said. “Can you cover this?” She asked, passing her bandage to Eleanor and lifting her shirt to her chest. Louis looked at his phone while the girls did their thing.

“Well, he is quite taken with you. I’m surprised he didn’t strangle him on the spot,” Eleanor smirked as she bandaged the most sensitive burns carefully. It was cold in the office, and she was irritated because she couldn’t cover her arms or body with any extra layers. “You’re lucky it missed your hands,” Eleanor said.

She nodded as Eleanor soothingly wiped more jelly along the inside of her forearms where the hot liquid did get her. “What do you mean quite taken?” She asked.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Even I noticed.”

“He’s smitten, love,” Eleanor giggled. “He can’t take his eyes off you, ever. The whole time we built the furniture when I came in the bathroom to help.”

“He was practically staring at the door like a puppy while you were in here,” Louis explained.

She felt the ever-present warmth in her cheeks whenever Harry’s affection toward her came up. She simply didn’t believe that Harry liked her like that. There was no way. He simply paid her to be around, and he worried about her the way someone worries about their car...or their expensive electronics. “No way.”

There was a knock on his office door, and she felt awkward that someone was probably coming in looking for Harry and they were about to find a circus in the bathroom.

“Come in!” Louis shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” she grumbled. Eleanor laughed as she finished the final coat of jelly and rinsed her hands off in the sink.

Fortunately, it was just Harry. Harry, knocking on his own office door. She was going to lose her mind from how ridiculous this all was. “Er...hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“You feel a little better?”

“I think so,” she nodded.

Niall came in behind holding an iced coffee in his hands. “Louis said y’might still want one,” he smirked.

She turned to glare at Louis who smiled excitedly. Like this was the most exciting game he had ever played. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Niall, Harry,” Eleanor began. Oh no. “Would you mind if we drove her home? She wants to stay to replace the files or something, but I think—”

“Absolutely not, please take her,” Niall said quickly shaking his head. He didn’t even need to hear the end of it.

Harry frowned. “Y’didn’t seriously think we were going t’make y’stay love, did you?” He wondered.

“Well, it’s not that bad now...I could—”

“Oh my God,” Louis rolled his eyes. “You’ll see them both Monday and your work will still be here. You can spare the ninety quid you’d make.”

“You’re only paying her eighteen an hour?” Harry asked, looking at Niall suddenly very aware of how little he was paying her.

“You’re the one that sets the pay, Harold,” Niall shook his head.

“I changed my mind,” she said to Eleanor. “Get me out of here,” she begged.

“Er...” Harry started appearing a bit flustered. She doesn’t know why. Everyone in this room knew he was paying her outside these walls to be in his life. “Do y’think you can drop her off at m’place? I want t’make sure she’s okay...and...I don’t want her t’cook dinner herself or anything.”

If Eleanor and Louis hadn’t said Harry was so taken with her just a few moments ago, she wouldn’t have thought anything of his question. She wouldn’t have looked at him when he asked. Again, it was merely the idea of someone taking care of a house pet. Or a boat. He wanted to look after what he paid for.

If they hadn't said anything, she wouldn’t have seen the way his cheeks turned the slightest bit pink when he asked if they could drive her to his place.

“Harry, we’d love to,” Louis responded with a full-blown, impish smile.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter

sorry if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged. Just lmk!

[modelbus]

This might be more on the angst side… oops? Also, this is like 3k words… There are POV switches!! And this was inspired by an ao3 story with a similar premise but that was with Kaz and Wylan so there’s that.

There is alcohol and suggestiveness in this! Be warned, it’s a bit different than my usual!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

Flufftober 4 - It’s All An Act (Spies)

"Sorry, what?" You stare at Kaz, and he stares back evenly.

"It's a simple mission. You don't have to do anything."

"Then why do you need me?"

He sighs, gloved hand tightening and loosening on his crow cane. Without a doubt, he was upset at you for not getting it, but forgive you for being a little startled when he asks you to pretend to date him!

"It'll be too suspicious if I show up alone. All I need you for is pretending to date me. But carry some weapons in case things go... awry."

"You want me to go with you to a party, pretend to date you, and... that's it?"

"That's it."

You stare at him for a few more moments, trying to figure out if he had any other angle. Most times, Kaz Brekker kept his crows in the loop. But there were times when he didn't, and you knew him too well to not try and figure out if it was or wasn't.

Although you were the second newest crow (thanks to Wylan for taking the newest title) you and Kaz actually somewhat got along. You’re certain it's because he values you ability to kill without hesitation. That's what you are to him: his assassin. Your role, your one job, was to kill and to kill efficiently. 

He didn't question why you were able to kill so easy, and you didn't question his aversion to touch and water. You got along, and things were fine.

Or, they were, until you had to go and start noticing stupid things about him. Like the way he looked mid-fight, slamming his cane into someone. Or the way his lips would barely twitch when one of them said something particularly funny. It took you a bit to realize, but when you did you knew you were royally fucked.

Because, of course, you started to develop feelings for Kaz Brekker. Feelings that, as long as you were sane, would stay quite hidden. Which only made this whole job harder.

He wanted you to pretend to date him. It might just be the hardest thing he's asked of you yet, and he doesn't even know it.

"Take the job. Wish I could go to a party." Jesper grumbles, and you glance at the sharp shooter sitting next to you.

"Unfortunately, no one in their sound mind would believe we were dating." Kaz says cooly. "That, and everyone knows your face around here."

You grimace. Your own insurance, coming to bite you in the ass. Most people only saw you face before you killed them. It was easier to sneak around in plain sight that way. Obviously the crows were the exceptions, and maybe a few others out there.

"You're sure nobody else wants to do this?" You try.

"Wylan and Jesper are far too in love for me to take Wylan, Inej is out hunting slavers, and Nina..." He shakes his head. 

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do the stupid job."

You sigh, knowing this job very well might be the death of you. Emotional death, that is. But then again, it was Kaz. Surely he wasn't the type to be a touchy fake date, not with his touch aversion.

"Good. Meet me down here at nine sharp tomorrow night. Dress nice, have concealed weapons."

Kaz walks off, not waiting for you to confirm you understood his directions. You scowl at his back before sighing. 

"This will be a disaster."

"I'm sure it'll be fun!" Jesper exclaims. "It's a party, how bad can it be?"

"I have to fake date Kaz Brekker." You deadpan.

"Yeah, but he wants you for arm candy. To draw the attention away from him. That's the closest to a compliment you'll ever get out of him."

You can't help but sigh again. "We take what we can get with him, don't we?"

-

Kaz is waiting for you outside the Crow Club when you arrive. He isn't dressed any different from his normal, except a pocket watch with a fancier chain than you’re used to. His gaze is level as he gazes at you as you walk towards him.

And you knows you looks good, but that isn't why he's looking at you. You’re in a nice outfit for once, flowing sleeves down to your wrists, and black gloves up to your elbows nearly. The gloves and long sleeves were carefully planned, knowing exactly what role you’d be playing tonight.

"How many knives do you have?" Kaz asks, looking behind you, almost like he's checking to see if you were followed by anyone. 

"Seven." You grin. You may be a pretty distraction tonight, but you’re just as dangerous as you are pretty.

"Good." He nods. Not approval, but close enough. "Let's go."

You walk next to him as they go through the streets of Ketterdam, slowly heading to the more expensive places. The streets widen, becoming more and more lit as they go, and you realize that maybe you should've asked whose party this was.

"So, Brekker. Lovely night, isn't it?" You ask conversationally. From the very start You’ve always used his last name, and haven’t even thought of changing that despite how he always ground his teeth at it.

"What do you want?" He snaps.

"Come on, be nicer to your date." You can't help yourself. Kaz might not react much, but it's funny when he does react.

"This was a bad idea."

"But we're too far into it now."

Kaz's jaw clenches, and you can't help but laugh quietly. "So, the plan?"

He sighs, and you wait a moment. Although he's sometimes an asshole, and mostly keeps things to himself, he's always told you everything you needed to know in a plan.

"Just look pretty and act stupid. Do what I tell you, for once." He finally says.

"Oh, yikes, that'll be really hard. I mean, listening to you?" You joke.

Kaz pulls up short, slamming his cane out in front of you. "I mean it, assassin." 

And just as you called him Brekker, he called you by your job. Assassin. 

"You can't call me that tonight." You respond calmly. "It'll give us away."

"Say it." 

You groan. "Fine. I'll listen to you."

He nods sharply, continuing on. "Good."

"You're a little paranoid, don't you think?"

Kaz doesn't even justify you with an answer at that one, leaving you to walk alongside him quietly. 

"This is it." He announces suddenly, and draws up short.

You let your eyes flicker over the building—tons of windows—then return to him. "...are you sure?"

"Yes. Inside. Now."

The second you take a step in, you shrink yourself. Shoulders curling in, angling yourself towards Kaz. You can feel his eyes on you as you do so, raking over you.

"Loosen up." He instructs you in a low voice.

"Easy for you to say." You murmur back. "You're not the one pretending to be the crow's whore."

"Someone's said that to you before."

It's not a question. Of course it isn't. Kaz's eyes sharpen, hardening into something mean in front of you.

"Not now." You say dismissively.

He glares at you but gives you a curt nod, and together you walk into the party. You, just for tonight, let yourself revel in the eyes being drawn to you. You give a taunting grin to someone they walk by, playing up your role a little.

Look pretty? Yeah, you can do that.

"Mr. Brekker." A merchant says, his eyes sliding from Kaz to you. "And..."

"Alex." you purr, tilting your head.

Like hell you’re giving your real name out to anyone here. Instead, Alex, a random name, will have to do.

"My date." Kaz cuts in smoothly. "Don't mind them."

"Pretty." The merchant says appraisingly. You should be flattered, but you’re more disgusted.

Kaz tilts his head, studying you. "Yes." He agrees coldly. "Get a drink, we're going to talk business. Loosen up."

You pause, but this certainly isn't the time to mention that youve never drank before. Instead you give him a graceful nod, floating off through the crowds. 

The bar is an open bar, you can tell that from the lazy way the bartender is flashing his watch. Nobody here is expected to get drunk, or to steal it. Unfortunately for them, you and Kaz are here, so no watch is safe.

"I'll have a drink." You say lightly, leaning on the counter.

"Of?" The bartender asks, snorting.

Shit.

"Make me what you're best at." You answer, looking at him through your eyelashes. It should be a safe answer.

By the way the bartender smiles and starts to make something, it is. A second later a glass of something is slid your way. Here's to hoping this won't fuck with you too much.

-

Kaz Brekker

He's starting to get a little worried. Not too much, he knows you can handle yourself perfectly fine, but it has been a while since he sent you off. You weren’t at the bar: he's been checking it every few moments.

It's starting to piss him off. One job, one easy job, and you can't even follow that. There was no point in bringing you if you was just going to vanish. 

"Come on, Assassin." He murmurs, still scanning the crowd.

Truthfully, he shouldn't be calling you that here. Alex was the name you gave the merchant earlier, and Alex was the name he should be calling you by. He isn't sure where Alex came from, actually.

It doesn't matter. What does matter is what he came here for, and finding you. 

Of course, right as he's about to turn back to the real reason he's here, there's a clatter of decidedly sour guitar strings. Most don't turn towards the noise, but Kaz does. And when he sees, his entire body freezes.

Because where else would you be except talking to the guitar player. And, from the looks of it, flirting with him.

"There you are." Kaz says, striding to you, feeling like yelling. "I've been looking for you."

"Sorry." You chirp, grinning brightly at him.

At that, he falters. When was the last time he saw a smile that bright, that genuine? Actually, scratch that, when had you ever apologized to him?

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, words coming out more as a snarl than anything else. "What are you doing, Assassin?"

"Me?" You ask, looking genuinely surprised. "I'm talking to the guitar player! I used to play guitar, you know, before my father broke it."

He flicks his eyes over you. Not once have you ever divulged information about your personal life, and not once did Kaz ever ask.

"You're drunk?" He asks, incredulously.

"Me? Drunk?" You gasp, stumbling.

With a lurch, he grabs your arms to stop you from hitting the floor. Even through his gloves, it sends a jolt up his spine.

"Three layers." You slur, and he realizes you’re comforting him while drunk. "Don't panic."

"How much did you drink?" He demands lowly, dragging you to a darker corner.

"Three. Maybe four."

"Three what?"

Only three drinks shouldn't have messed you up this much, not unless they were straight vodka or something ridiculous.

"I don't know." 

He stares at you. It isn't like you to be so... careless.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He snaps.

"I've never drank before." Kaz's jaw goes slack. You’ve never drank before? This is your first time drinking? Ever? "Hey, anyone ever tell you your eyes are nice?"

"Shut up, I need to think." Kaz growls, drawing a hand down his face.

His eyes dart around, landing on a nearby door. Without a second thought, he shoves you in, closing the door behind you and locking it. It's a bathroom, and for that he's incredibly thankful.

"Splash yourself with water." Kaz orders, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Why?"

"To sober you up."

"Will it really?"

Kaz is starting to like you a lot more when she's sober.

-

You

An explosion rockets through the building, shaking the walls a little. "Woah." You laugh. It’s funny for some reason. "One of ours? Wylan's?"

"Yes." Kaz says, eyes flicking between you and the door. "Water, now."

"Why are we bombing the party?"

"Near the party." He corrects you impatiently.

There's a sudden pounding on the door, and Kaz swears under his breath violently.

"Anyone in there?! Open up!" 

You lift yourself onto the bathroom counter, sitting next to the sink. You watch Kaz, his scheming face on.

"What are you doing?" He asks, still glaring at you.

"Get over here."

"What are you doing?"

"Kaz." You raise your eyebrows. "Get caught or get over here."

Kaz clenches his jaw, striding up to you. "Now what? You're drunk, we're in a bathroom."

You run your hands through your hair, messing it up. You move back further to lean against the mirror, spreading your legs.

"Hands on either side of my head."

Immediately, Kaz stiffens. "Pardon?"

"We either make it look like you're about to fuck me or we get caught." 

His eyes go cold, but he leans in, placing a hand to right of your head. His left hand, though, goes to your waist.

"Three layers." He murmurs, almost to himself. "You're drunk, which means I'm yelling at you later for this."

"Please don't-" You cut yourself off with a gasp when the door slams open. You’re close. Not enough to touch Kaz, your mind isn't that foggy, but enough to certainly imply some things.

"Oh." A strange voice says. "Oh. My- my apologies, I didn't-"

"Get out." Kaz growls, turning his head away from you to glare at whoever is at the door.

The door shuts quickly with a loud "thud" noise. Both Kaz and you stay there for a moment, waiting to see if the intruder was actually gone.

"Wasn't that fun?" You say weakly.

"No." Kaz snaps, turning his head back to glare at you.

"Don't be pissed at me. I just saved our asses." You complain, meeting his eyes.

"Who said I'm pissed at you? Frustrated, certainly. I can't fault you too much for being drunk when I asked you to get a drink." 

"You have a nice voice." You say honestly.

"Close your mouth before you say something you'll regret."

you stare at him for a moment, mind swirling with thoughts you can't truly sort out.

You’re suspended for another second, neither of you having moved from the quite intimate position. You wasn't a short person, but you were smaller than Kaz, meaning he's practically covering your body with his right now.

"Could you get off me?" You say quietly.

"You're the one who put us in this position." He responds, raising his eyebrows. "If you were uncomfortable with it, you shouldn't have done it."

Either way, he removes his hands, but doesn't step back. Your head swims, having entirely forgotten his hand was on your waist in the first place.

"No, it's because I liked it too much." 

Kaz closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with gloved hands. "This is why I don't deal with drunk people."

"What, drunk people are too honest or something?"

"No. Secrets get spilled that nobody wants to hear."

"You don't want to hear my secrets?" You pout, a little upset. You must truly be nothing to him if he didn't even want your secrets to use against you.

"Why are you sad at that?" Kaz asks, and if you didn't know better you’d think he sounds incredulous.

"Because that means I mean nothing to you, which is depressing."

"Where did you get that idea?" His eyebrows furrow.

"You want everyone's secrets." You point out, still leaning against the mirror while sat on the counter. "Why not mine?"

"Trust me, I want them. I just want them out of your own free will."

Hell if you know what that means, but... "Nobody is holding a gun to my head."

"You're drunk. You have no filter."

"Correct. And? When did you care about morals?"

"I don't." He levels his cool gaze at you. "But when it comes to you... I know I wouldn't want my secrets getting out because I'm drunk." 

"When it comes to me?" You echo, jumping on the lose thread in his words.

"Get off the counter."

"Explain."

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, what happens? A collision so grand, so huge, that everything else pales in comparison.

But they aren't unstoppable or unmovable. You are drunk, Kaz has his own problems.

So he steps back, and you slide off the counter, fixing your clothes.

"Let's go." Kaz says gruffly.

But even now, even in the dim lighting of a bathroom, even with a foggy mind that is slowly clearing, you know. Hell, you both know.

Something has changed.

[mehriigss]

Rottmnt weird drabble/one shot because I have anxiety so Leo has anxiety too.

Based on a headcanon you can find here.

Leo was at the verge of a panic attack. No, he was going into a full anxiety spiral. The best part? He was currently having a family dinner.

Everyone was having fun. Raph was stuffing his face with Mikey's meatballs, April was trying to prevent him from choking, his twin was recording everything with his phone, his father was scolding him for using his phone during a family event, Mikey was still cooking in April's kitchen and Draxum and himself were having a smooth conversation about biology. About literal photosynthesis to be precise. He might hate him but he has to admit Draxum really knew how to get him to talk.

There were oh so many details in every single thing his family was doing right now, but he's brain chose to focus on himself. How selfish.

Draxum was rambling about his favourite photosystem when it hit him. The increased heart rate, the tunnel vision, the distorted hearing, the nausea, the damn choking sensation and that fucking piercing pain in his chest that just won't go away for the rest of the week.

Why did his anxiety have to be such an opportunistis?

He stared at Draxum like he was trying to read his soul out loud. Leo could hear him but he wasn't listening. No words seem to get into his brain but the usual 'you're nothing but your brothers', 'too little too late for redemption', 'you'll never change', 'under that mask is a scared little boy'.

Did Draxum just make him a question? He could tell by Draxum's body language.

"So?" Said Draxum to the turtle that barely registrated anything but the strong static in his ears.

Masking this kind of things was easy for him. He just had to ignore and endure it in equal proportions and play face man. He could do it, he was the face man! The actor! The lier among them! Misleading was his specialty.

He would just put on another layer of paint to his mask and flee forward.

"I'm not sure." Leo said a bit too low but steadily nonetheless.

"Well, if you are not sure, I could suggest a few scientific articles". Draxum replayed, apparently content enough with the poor answer.

Draxum was suddenly silent, already used to Leon's seemingly infinite energy for conversation, waiting for him to say something.

So he said the first thing he could muster, the quickest he could: "I-I'd love to read t-them".

That was clearly not a good plan.

It had begun. The stuttering, because his poor mouth couldn't keep up with his anxious brain. He hated that. He's good hiding his panic in plain sight but his stupid stuttering is something he can't control or cover! He could only go mute and hope he's not asked many questions because of it.

But going mute would be extremely suspicious when he's literally in the middle of a conversation!

"Ok...?"

Ok, Draxum was a bit confused, he could work with that. That is fixable. As long as he can keep a low profile he's good.

But his breathing was getting more and more erratic and being and acuatic turtle didn't actually help keep the need to just breath at bay.

Could he fix this?

'Of course not, you're useless!'

'You're eyes are watering, you big crybaby!'

'Just flee. They're not gonna miss you anyway '

'They're better off without you'

He took a big, deep, audible, shaky breath and surrendered.

"Are you ok, bro?" Mikey, bless his soul, had just entered to room and immediately noticed his struggle, taking over the conversation. "Barry, mind if I steal my brother from you for a sec?"

Mikey did not wait for an official answer, he grabbed Leo by the wrist and forced him out of the room. That, in all honesty, scared the holy shit out of Leonardo. And everybody else.

He felt a little naked now that he wasn't around his whole family, but at least the living room smelled like April. It was a nice smell to focus his mind on.

"Leo... It might not be anything serious- and I hope it isn't! -but..."

"I-I'm hav-ing a p-panic a-attack".

Another shaky breath was all it took for Leo to become a hyperventilating and sobbing mess.

That image just fits too well 😙

[annwayne]

TBB Walks in on You

How would the Bad Batch react if they walked in on you masturbating? Perhaps, even, right at your climax? I had some thots the other night when I couldn't sleep, and well. They produced this.

18+ spice incoming, established relationships, kind of a domestic vibe, but still in universe, pre-order 66, gender neutral reader but mentions of a vibrator, one mention of loss.

As usual, if you enjoy please let me know! Reblogs, likes, and replies are welcome!

Wrecker

I'll admit, Wrecker isn't my typical type. He's got his charm and I understand why someone would like him the most, he just doesn't always come to mind when I'm thinking of smutty ideas.

But this is an exception to that norm. This time, Wrecker was the first batcher I imagined because of a very specific image.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a size difference, so Wrecker holding you in his lap- ooh we'll get there.

He may be a bit of a goof at times, but he's clearly attentive.

So as he approaches the door I think he'll notice something is different.

He'll step in quietly and wait by the door, wait for you to finish.

Wrecker wouldn't want to interrupt your fun, after all.

So once you've come down from your high, he'll make himself known as he slides into the bed with you.

He'll wrap his arms around you, pull you up into his lap, and with a grin ask you if you had a good time.

He'll check if you need anything, water, a snack... Him?

Of course, the little bit he saw he enjoyed, and while sitting on his lap you can feel his still-hard boner, rubbing against your ass as he's holding your thighs, running a hand up your waist, feeling your warmer than usual body.

I think he’d be very happy to help you if you wanna go another round.

But he also won’t push.

Sometimes the sexy beast that is you needs a good romp all alone.

Wrecker certified gentleman.

(But he really, really wants to show you just how attractive you are to him.)

Echo

Echo. I know a good bit of fandom sees him as shy.

But honestly, I think a guy like Echo would be very confident. Maybe not a suave kind of confidence, but well, blunt.

Unlike the rest of the batch, he's lost a lot of people in his life.

So when it comes to matters involving you, the person he loves, he's direct.

Which means upon finding the rest of the flat/ship/whatever empty, he'll head to the bedroom the two of you share, only to notice there's no light coming out from under the door.

In an attempt to not wake you, he'll creep into the room, only to notice you're not napping.

No, the sounds you're making and the way you're wiggling under the covers, that's not napping.

He's instantly enticed, instantly happy to see you like this.

With a bit of a mischievous grin, he sneaks into the room.

Listening to you, watching you, until he's at your bedside.

And then he'll announce his presence by making a dumb joke about vibrators and his scomp- you know the idea's come to mind at least once.

Of course, he's standing at your bedside, so once you open your eyes, you get a good view of the tent at his crotch that you caused.

Hunter

Hunter is a dumbass.

And because he’s a dumbass, he’s a blushing mess the minute he steps into your flat.

He can smell and hear your restrained little grunts and the buzzing of a toy. (Or slick, if you’re using a non-electric kind of toy)

It's a bit overwhelming, one might say.

So I think, Hunter's the kind of guy to wait outside the room till you come out, all come haze and the smell lingering on you.

At first you think he didn't notice.

But no, of course he'd notice. You're well aware of his advanced senses.

So maybe he's just... not going to say anything?

He won't, at least, not right away.

See, by the time you come out he’s lost his blush and has calmed down. So he’ll wait.

Until you’re having dinner or watching some vids, doing something so plain and normal.

When you've forgotten about the whole thing, and then what he’ll do, he’ll make sure he’s behind you, pull you into him, and whisper in your ear exactly what you were doing.

He’ll guess what you were thinking about or looking at, and all the while talk in an incredibly level, but husky, voice.

Obviously you can feel his boner growing against you.

Tech

Tech. Oh Tech. He’ll walk in, assess the situation, and in his matter of fact voice say, “Oh, you are pleasuring yourself. ..Shall I leave?” (The shall I leave is less matter of a fact 😌)

He knows what he wants. But he’s asking what you want.

Since he kind of interrupted your orgasm, you're left feeling unfinished.

(It is kind of jarring hearing a voice suddenly if you’re not expecting it, especially while so venerable like that)

So maybe you invite him to stay

But no interfering.

It's like a game.

So he'll sit, eyes glued to you, and ask if he can masturbate along with you.

I’m not sure about you, but I just might say no to make him squirm a little. 

But whatever you answer, he’ll follow along with.

I like to think Tech compliments you anytime he thinks of one.

In the moment he’ll tell you how beautiful you look with a post cum shine.

How sexy it is that you keep going, even after coming.

How cute your sounds are. 

Once you’re satisfied and go over to him, he’s got a lustful look in his eyes, a glaze.

He’ll ask how it was, make sure you had fun, and give you praise for taking care of yourself while he’s gone.

Then, later, he'll make sure to make a move in this game of yours, when you least expect it.

Crosshair

Crosshair my beloved, my darling, my snarky sniper.

Oh, he’s a smug ass, seeing you squirm and moan into your pillows just as he steps into the room.

He’s quiet and sneaks up on you.

Only after you open your eyes you notice him, looking down at you with that entertained little smirk and a tent in his blacks.

“Couldn’t wait another hour?” He’ll tease, saying what a needy thing you are.

Cross can be a bit of a bully…

and you just gave him his ammo.

He’ll lean down, hovering just above you, and stroke your hair. Put out of place locks behind your ear, out of the way of your face.

And then, in that rough voice of his, he’ll say “I didn’t know you were into that.”

The fucker saw your tablet screen.

And no way in hell was he going to forget the depravity he saw on it.

Lucky for you, his teasing is just that.

You might deny or go quiet or act proud, however you react, he loves it.

Loves when you’re shy, loves when you’re playing dumb, loves when you give him attitude. So many side of you, and he loves them all.

From there he’ll laugh, slide into bed atop of you and give you light kisses along your neck, saying that now you two had something new to try out in the bedroom.

If you’re interested that is.

[tiddiesoutwhenthetisout]

Do you have a headcanon that you like so much that you practically automatically include it when you think of the character the headcanon is about?

i will try to list a few, as i remember best when i trigger an associated memory (i think-- i'd like to think my memory still works 🤣).

tbh i held off on answering this since i can't think of a good hc from the top of my head hahaha

it's not going to be substantiated by historical texts or information since i have very limited knowledge in those areas. these are silly little hcs i inferenced from the most random places.

Patroclus:

- he has very nice names for his dogs. he thinks of each one very well as he walks back to camp after rescuing the animal from destruction. he constantly thinks about it, and of course they have meanings, but i'm unfortunately not greek so i can't dive deeper into that :') something like "child of vast plains" (one word) as in free. like his wishes for each dog. "never suffering a lack of", such and such. depending on his observations of each dog's personality.

- tired dad but also playful piece of shit uncle vibes.

- i like to think he genuinely enjoys the adrenaline of high stakes (gambling- which totally started as a joke because i saw a post saying he 'killed a boy over dice #gamblingaddiction') but doesn't participate much when the soldiers play because he has his dutiful side lol. when he decides to come out and participate, he keeps winning.

- voice smooth as honey and chocolate but he's a little tone deaf.

※ also, grey eyes patroclus truther over here. and that he probably got his medical talents from his mother, whoever it was.

Achilles:

- stays in his tent most of the time. the longer the war went on, the more he closed himself off, save for a few of his own men and his close friends (patroclus, antilochus, automedon, ajax, teucer...) he does get out for celebrations but he tends to get sick of merrymaking easier than others so he retires early. would complain to patroclus about several things in his day as they tend to their body pains and weapons/armor maintenance. this says a lot about my general impression of his personality. i don't need to spell out that i think he's dramatic lol

- has a green right eye and a deep black left iris (from thetis). i made this on accident with a sketch but i really like the idea of him being *slightly* unsettling when they see him the first time instead of a flawless blonde child. sure he still is, but i'd like in-universe characters to have more of a reason to not approach him. and well... pay thetis a little bit of tribute hahaha. i deleted other appearance hcs for him and patroclus, realizing i can just add those when i post my wip character design sheets. but here's a zoomed shot of his face as a 12 year old:

- likes theater. would have tried for it himself if he didn't have to be a warrior. has made several songs throughout his life especially in childhood but has never documented them. forgets them in the morning.

Odysseus:

- nearsighted. idk if there's anything to prove this otherwise, but i just slapped it on him. he doesn't recognize people super easily by their faces, but he goes by other things instead like height or voice, or their most prominent features. that's also how he hunts or kills. he doesn't really know this ofc, and has just been doing it his whole life. now he doesn't know his son's face very well, so i'd like to add this to the moral dilemma of throwing astyanax off the wall more than it already is.

- short king idk 5'1". 5'2" if he's wearing shoes hehe. has the same height with penelope. telemachus is 5'3" (without shoes). the genes are improving!

Menelaus:

- diomedes and odysseus second father figure. this probably has a lot of contradicting evidence, but let me sit with the funny image that it started as a joke at first then they found menelaus just has very basic dad instincts. has, on many nights, gotten drunk and cried about helen leaving him.

- has to watch his blood pressure (sorry).

Diomedes:

- values the concept of family higher than most. he doesn't spell it out in the open of course, but it's one of the things that sets him apart as well.

※ so i took a break, got curious about diomedes and looked up his future after troy. that hc does not bode well with his wife's status after his return 💀

Pyrrhus:

- has red hair (sometimes a "duh" moment for me considering his name is literally fire-haired/red-haired; I've seen blonde depictions of him).

- 5'6". slightly taller than average, but shorter than his father because his god blood is more diluted than.

- very cold and steadfast when he first showed up. i want to believe that he was not that all throughout. he learned to commune with other soldiers, although awkward and unsure. somehow, he became like another achilles; the youngest of the soldiers, the man who would spearhead the attack by proposing the idea of the trojan horse (i read somewhere it was him, and then some say odysseus, some say both). he would look quizzically at handshakes but would accept. he'd be so confused by whooping and hugging and cheering after battle, but didn't resist the warmth of it. he unfortunately didn't have time to explore that side of life before he died.

i think i'll end it there 🤣 i'm not that well-acquainted with other characters, but you yourself wrote about automedon and balius and xanthus being tamed by patroclus, so i also believe that now actually.

[thestrangesthell]

Afterlife Jobs and Civil Service

Seen a few theories and "plot hole" accusations flying around after Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and thought I'd add my own hypothesis on what the deal is with jobs in the afterlife.

This will contain spoilers for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.

TW: This post will discuss suicide. Please only proceed if you are comfortable.

The short version: I think (for the most part) jobs are a choice and available to those who need to hang around due to unfinished business (even if they themselves don't know what that is). I think those who commit suicide do have to work for some time as it wasn't their time to die yet. They can't just board the soul train and move on to better plains. Instead, (and though rather sour in the mouth), they're met with the shock that it isn't over. This is Beetlejuice, after all. Death and life is hard.

Now, for the long version (and it really is long), read on!

Despite the fact I do personally think it's canon that those who commit suicide end up having to work (at least for a while) in the afterlife, we can't believe that purely because Otho said so. Firstly, the guy is living, pompous and has zero evidence for that statement. Secondly, he's not a credible source. He may have been "one of New York City's leading paranormal researchers until the bottom dropped out in '72," but his interest in anything can be boiled down to obsession with image and aesthetic more than a desire to get into the nitty gritty.

What we as the audience do see is people working in the afterlife that could have died by suicide.

There's the Road Kill man ("Thanks, I've been feeling a little flat!"), Juno (*who I will come back to) and most obviously, Miss Argentina. These people are working and likely (if not outright confirmed) died by suicide.

It's a weird thing to pick up on, but what about the skeleton workers?

Besides being a great visual gag, there's not really a clear indication of death by suicide here. We could, of course, suggest they died this way and have since been "worked to the bone" - as this is the Beetlejuice franchise after all, and lord knows pun-based humour is...well, pun-damental - but no other ghosts seem to have permanent alterations to their state. In the Beetlejuice universe, once you're dead, you're stuck that way. (Unless you get your soul sucked that is).

Well, that clears things up, right?

Maybe not.

For a long time, a lot of us in the fandom accepted the whole "in the afterlife they become civil servants" thing because, well, that was what we were told. But with the recent instalment of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice this is now dubious.

Why?

Betelgeuse himself.

Betelgeuse was largely assumed by many to have died by suicide. Various headcanons over the years include strangulation, hanging, poison, drowning, electrocuting himself - the list truly goes on. part of his charm is the mystery. But with the sequel, it is suggested that he died by poison from another. Delores.

Why is this an issue?

Well, if Betelgeuse didn't commit suicide, why was he Juno's assistant?

I have two theories for that.

Firstly, in line with this entire post - he died after Delores poisoned him and then chose to work up from the bottom to become Juno's assistant. He claims himself that his heart was pretty much blackened before he met Delores, so what's to stop him from wanting to take over in the afterlife after finding himself there ahead of his time? He probably feels robbed of life and hella opportunistic. It would support the theory of unfinished business and explain the random jobs we see him doing in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. From Guide to working Immigration, man's got one hell of a resume.

Then there's my second theory, which muddies the waters quite a bit.

We didn't actually see him die after he was poisoned.

I'll let that fester for a bit...

Ready to move on?

Let's talk about *Juno!

Juno, my beloved.

Despite recent questions surrounding her cause of death, I do personally feel the cut on Juno's throat was self-imposed. The issue fans have with how deep the cut is can be answered fairly reasonable. This is more practical rather than an effort for believability. Beetlejuice is high camp and smoke pouring from the throat of a ghost only adds to its ridiculousness. Plus, it helps back up my theory that those who commit suicide are required to do some type of work in the afterlife to make up for their shortened time on earth.

The reason I believe this is that Juno seems to really hate her job - or at least hate the crap that comes with it. If she had chosen to be a caseworker, (or been given a job similar to what she did when living), we'd perhaps see her be a little more understanding to everything that was going on. Instead, she's burdened by her paperwork, sick of having to deal with issues from baby ghosts and their "routine hauntings," and the poor woman is constantly haunted by the knowledge that Betelgeuse is out there.

(While we don't know their history, we do know that Betelgeuse ended up with a bit of a liking for Bio-exorcisms. I don't think she believes him evil any more than she considers him a nuisance, so we can only assume he got caught up in trouble that threatened Juno's line of work, leading to him getting fired.)

The real reason I can suggest that jobs are largely a choice are the recent additions to the Beetlejuice universe. I'm talking about Richard, Wolf Jackson, the Shrinkers, the Janitor and all of Wolf Jackson's squad, (plus a handful of others). They all have jobs, with some having more legitimate jobs than others.

This is where my theory really comes into play.

I think all of the above characters (possible with the exception of the Shrinkers) chose their jobs. Why? They have unfinished business - just as Barbara and Adam had unfinished business in Beetlejuice.

(Of course "they found a loophole and moved on" but this is more-so to explain their necessary absence in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. From a lore perspective, they could very well still be haunting the house for another 89 years. I (like many others now) believe the loophole was unfinished business. They had the family (Lydia) that they wanted all along and when she moved on with her life, they felt complete. Next stop: The Soul Train and The Great Beyond.)

When looking at these new characters, here's what I theorise for each of them:

Richard - Unfinished business: a family reunion. Richard died in the Amazon, away from Astrid and likely didn't get a proper goodbye. After saving her, thus seeing her once more, he could move on. It's possible too that he's not going to move on after Beetlejuice Beetlejuice due to waiting on more family to see again. But we don't know that, so I'll keep it short.

Wolf Jackson - Unfinished business: "keeping it real." Wolf Jackson seems slightly in denial about his situation. Janet has to continuously remind him that he in an actor because he gets too into the bit he's currently doing. I think the man gets completely convinced he is a spy/detective/investigator/whatever it is he is hyper-fixated on becoming. He's method, dedicated to his craft and won't move on until he feels he has fulfilled every cast-type possible for his range. He's gunning for a Gross-cer.

Wolf Jackson's squad (including Janet) - Unfinished business: supporting cast. Judging by how useless they all are, I'd hedge bets that they are actors too, waiting for their "big break" or recognition to feel satisfied with life (or death). In the Toonverse, celebrities are canon. If these universes are more aligned than previously thought, this could be a possibility.

The Shrinkers - Unfinished business: think big. These poor sods got on the wrong side of a witch doctor (although I really do think a certain B-man is to blame for this). We saw what happened when the portal to the living world opened. Those suckers saw a bid for freedom and went for it. I'd wager that they're somewhat forced to work for Betelgeuse. Maybe he's promised them 'head' (not that kind) if they do his dirty work. After all, he got his head back to normal size. Who's to say he hasn't promised them the same if they work for him? (Let's hope they read the fine print in that contract).

The Janitor - Unfinished business: a taste for revenge. To be honest, I think this guy either died by suicide or totally on accident. Either way, it was from ingesting something toxic. He's got a hankering for bleach and chemicals, who's to say this was just in death? I think he was content working in the afterlife, consuming these deadly toxins with zero repercussions.

Much of the same can be said for the Dry Cleaner. People need their clothes cleaned, he was good at it in life. Why not carry on if you're not ready to go?

Speaking of ready to go...

All aboard The Soul Train!

Another key point in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that (aside from Astrid, who was semi-forced to board), The Soul Train is something you board when you're ready to depart. Maybe some people are forced here and there, as there are guards stationed, but we are also reassured that Hell is an option for those who do truly fucked up shit.

(It's worth noting also that The Soul Train has other stops. The Pearly Gates, Elysium and another stop (my memory fails), all of which were DELAYED. Time works differently in the afterlife; maybe some people get jobs because the wait is truly an eternity.)

WOW, you made far! Congratulations for enduring my ramblings, here's a beetle for your trouble 🪲

After all that, here's what we do know:

If you died within a certain radius of your home, you're left to haunt it for 125 years.

If you died by suicide (and if Otho is correct), you have to work for an unspecified amount of time as a civil servant in the afterlife.

If you died via a horrific accident (Wolf Jackson, Janet and Richard), jobs are there for you and you don't even need the credentials to back up your experience.

You cannot leave the afterlife unless you are confirmed "dead dead", board the soul train, attempt to swap souls with a living person or get sent to Hell.

In summary:

Jobs are available in the afterlife. There's no expectation to "work" but there's not much else to do. If you're not ready to leave the afterlife, (perhaps you're still processing death, waiting for loved ones to meet you on the other side or even enjoying the weird and wonderful atmosphere), why not get a job?

Well...unless you're forced into one by a horny poltergeist. But that's a whole other post.

But hey, what do I know? I'm only living.