#maybe we do that again i do enjoy having the longer nails from time to time

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Legend of Saint Claws

"All right, Agatha," Rio said with a shake of her head, coming to her feet and doing a melodramatic twirl, green silk pajamas shifting into a dramatic red and white getup, it was always strange to see her in a color other than green. Her nails grew long and sharp, scraping through the air. "What do you think of—Saint Claws?"

Agatha and Rio, raising Nicky together in modern times. Just a cute little Christmas fic.

Maybe.

“Do you think Nicky's asleep?” Agatha asked Rio, toying with a cup of spiked eggnog, feet in her wife’s lap.

“No, I think he’s sitting in the dark, listening for the arrival of the flying reindeer on the roof,” Rio said. “You should probably tell him that none of that stuff is real. He’s old enough now.”

Agatha gave the other woman one of her characteristic twisted smiles. “Oh, let him keep his illusions for a little longer. Everyone deserves a few.” She sat up, swallowed the rest of her drink and put the cup aside, pointedly ignoring the way it disappeared as soon as she stopped touching it. “Besides, you know I love this part.”

Rio looked at her with comfortable, familiar affection, tucked up on their couch. “And I do love watching you enjoy yourself, beloved. Though I’m not sure why I have to be the one doing all the acting.”

“Because I’m doing the spell casting,” Agatha pointed out. “And I’m comfortable and uninterested in moving.” She did move enough to close the gap between them, though, enough to kiss the woman she loved, slow and sweet, savoring the contact the way she did every time.

When she pulled back, Rio's hand caught her wrist for a moment. "One more Christmas," she said. "Then we give this up, okay?"

"I don't see why you care so much," Agatha said, ignoring how tight Rio was holding on, the pressure on her wrist almost bruising. "We can talk about it next year."

Rio pulled her close and kissed her again with sudden, breathtaking force, the kind of kiss that ate away at the edges of the world. She pulled back too fast, gasping. "Later," she said, lips still tingling from the contact. "Save it for the bedroom, hmm? You have a job to do."

"All right, Agatha," Rio said with a shake of her head, coming to her feet and doing a melodramatic twirl, green silk pajamas shifting into a dramatic red and white getup, it was always strange to see her in a color other than green. Her nails grew long and sharp, scraping through the air. "What do you think of—Saint Claws?"

Agatha applauded, laughing. "Excellent, very scary," she said. "I wouldn't want to see that bringing me a sack of presents."

It had started out as a silly game, telling the boy that 'Saint Claws' would bring his presents on Christmas, but he'd best not look or else he might be torn to shreds. It was Agatha, of course, who'd escalated, started mixing in magic and costumes to make the whole thing seem real, until suddenly trying to catch a glimpse of Saint Claws without being caught was as much a part of Christmas as receiving the actual presents.

"All right, let's see if I can give you some really dramatic reindeer to herald your arrival," Agatha said, fishing around for the components for her spell, then glanced up to find Rio staring at her.

"You're so beautiful," the other woman murmured, which only made Agatha nod absent agreement, going back to setting up for the spell.

"Come on, up on the roof with you," she told Rio. "Oh, if you see Vision flying around up there, tell him hi for me."

"I thought you hated him?" Rio asked.

"Of course I do, I hate all of our neighbors, but I don't want them to know that, we still have to live here," Agatha said. "Well, I suppose I don't hate Wanda. But I don't see why she married that tinbucket calling itself a man."

"Ags, Wanda…" Rio started, then stopped. Instead, she turned to pull the bag of presents over her shoulder, careful not to rip them with her unnecessarily long claws.

When had that gotten there, Agatha thought. Surely they hadn't left it out in the living room, that was careless, Nicky would have seen it. She supposed she must have taken it out after he'd gone to bed.

She thought about asking Rio, but it wasn't important. Instead she lit the incense in front of her, and began the chant to summon her herd of illusory flying reindeer, listening as their hooves clattered loudly across the roof. She heard the sound of feet thudding above her as Nicky bolted out of bed, no doubt trying to get a glimpse of them landing on the roof. From across the street, she heard the sounds of a shrill voices yelling. At some point, Billy and Tommy had both gotten in on the 'Spot Saint Claws' game, much to the bemusement of their parents.

"Be careful out there," she told Rio. "And try not to gore any children. Especially not ours."

"Only if their eyes linger too long on—Saint Claws!" Rio said, with a terrible, shrieking laugh that made Agatha burst into much more human giggles.

"Oh, you are so sexy right now," she purred, blowing Rio a kiss.

"I'll remember you said that," her wife said, before teleporting away with her full sack of presents, landing on the roof with a heavy thunk. The yelling from outside intensified, alongside something that sounded like roaring, Rio really overdoing it on the sound effects.

"I see him, he's on the roof!" One of the twins said. "Look out, Nicky, he's coming down the right side, get back to bed before he sees you—aaaah! He's looking at me! Mom!!!"

She couldn't hear Nicky's voice, it occurred to her. He should be yelling back or shrieking in terror. Maybe she should go up and check on him, make sure that he wasn't too scared. They'd overdone it when he was four, she'd had to go up and hold him and promise him that she would never, ever let Saint Claws hurt him before he'd calmed down. But he was six now and he'd been so excited to try and spot Saint Claws, it was all he'd talked about when she'd put him to bed.

Still, she should go check.

It took her a minute to get off the couch, and far less time to get up the stairs. "Nicky?" she called as she stood outside his door, and got no answer. In fact, all the sounds outside had faded, none of Rio's ridiculous roaring or the boys yelling. It made her skin crawl and suddenly she was desperate to see Nicky. She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, pushed it open—

She realized the problem, the fundamental flaw, as the door swung open. She could recreate the whole world, but she couldn't remember what her son looked like.

On the ground of Westview, Agatha Harkness sagged and howled, her hands curled into fists that beat themselves into the ground. Next to her, inches away, lay the desiccated corpse of the Scarlet Witch.

"Tell me how it works!" Agatha screamed at Wanda's body. "I've got your power, I should be able to bring him back to me! Why can't I do it?!" A hand touched her shoulder and she jerked, turned to stare up at Rio, Death, her continual stalker. "How did you find me??"

"You summoned me into all of that, Ags," the woman she'd once loved said, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. "He's dead, beloved. You can't fix that with magic."

"I know," Agatha snarled. "Do you think I don't know that, you think I haven't tried? But hey," her lips quirked into a twisted, terrible smile. "I can pretend, can't I?" She motioned to Wanda. "It worked for her."

"I don't think you should," Rio said, voice soft, crouching down next to her. "I don't think that will make you happy."

"She seemed pretty happy, in her little twisted make-believe world," Agatha sneered.

Rio glanced at Wanda's corpse. "…She was. But she was better at lying to herself, I think."

"Do you know, I can't remember," Agatha whispered, the terrible truth slipping out. "I think that's why it doesn't work for me. I can't remember what he looked like. I can't remember the sound of his voice."

Rio opened her mouth, closed it, then wrapped her arms around Agatha without saying a word.

Maybe it was the familiarity or the recent pretense of marriage or maybe it was simply that she was suddenly so tired, every year of her long life hitting her at once, but she collapsed into Rio's arms, let the woman she'd once loved hold her, stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings in dead languages to her.

Then she had an idea.

"Rio," she said, her voice coming out rusty and raw from the screaming. "You remember."

Death stared down at her, her eyes widening as Agatha's meaning sunk in. "...Beloved, you don't want this. Not really."

Agatha cupped the other woman's cheek, staring into those endless eyes, currently reflecting her back to herself, which wasn't anything she wanted to see. "Why not? It won't make me happy? I don't remember being happy. And it will get what you want, won't it? Come on, Rio." Her lips twisted, curled into a smile brimming with madness. "Marry me. Live happily after ever." She raised a hand, crackling with red and purple power.

Rio shuddered against her, stared at that hand for a moment, then twined her fingers through Agatha's, green and black power wrapping around their combined hands, then spinning itself into a circle, a ring, which slid neatly over Agatha's finger.

"I do," Death said.

Agatha opened the door and Nicky flew into her arms, his face bright with excitement. "Mom!" he said. "Listen, can you hear? Saint Claws is outside!"

"So he is," Agatha said, listening to the melodramatic roaring with a shake of her head, a shake that cleared some of the last of the cobwebs, pushed away any thoughts that might have otherwise intruded. She toyed absently with her wedding ring as she said, "Go ahead and take a look. I'll make sure you're safe."

[ourceliumnetwork]

painted my nails for the first time in a while last night - i'll probably add a second coat tonight - may try and use it as a base for a fancy one that doesn't have a load of pigment on a couple nails just to be, well, fancy lol. don't know if the paint's gonna stick around long after the holidays. i keep forgetting i don't work in food service so i'm allowed to have bracelets and hair ties on my wrists and paint on my nails again, and also i'm not entirely sure whether i even actually like having them be visible lol.

[luveline]

hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask. 

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.” 

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.  

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.” 

“Really?” 

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops. 

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.” 

“Can I speak to her?” 

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Lay back,” he says. 

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?” 

You laugh. He peeks up at you. 

“Sorry, it’s just funny.” 

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.” 

“I won’t laugh again, promise.” 

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.” 

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again. 

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says. 

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?” 

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to your sister.” 

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?” 

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?” 

“Can I?” 

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.” 

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle. 

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump. 

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.” 

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.” 

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks. 

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.” 

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?” 

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says. 

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side. 

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says. 

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?” 

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh. 

[gyuwoncheol]

Sir, Please.

Pair: Wonwoo x f.reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut. 18+ only (MDNI).

Summary: Wonwoo doesn’t mind keeping you at the edge if it means watching you fall apart.

Warnings: Dom!Wonwoo, Sir! kink, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex (stay safe, children), squirting, clitoral stimulation, lots of making out, creampie, pussy slapping (like once), overstimulation, dacryphilia, breast play, wrist pinning, dirty talk, use of pet names (Sir, good girl, darling, love, baby, sweetie), glorious aftercare (Wonu is the best), fluff. Please let me know if i missed something. Not proofread, might come back to fix up errors.

WC: 3k

Author’s note: First smut piece for Wonwoo my love. This was only supposed to be post-sex cuddles fluff but thought it was the right time to finally write smut for my favorite boy. As is the plot of this piece, good things come to those who wait 😏 Enjoy!

Tagging fellow Wonu lovers @multi-kpop-fanfics @playmetheclassics for the chaos.

“What’re you doing?” Your boyfriend quizzed, your bare body still on top of his, a cheek resting against his bare chest.

“Doodling,” you mumbled casually as your finger continued to draw lazy patterns on his side.

“Darling, it tickles.”

“I don’t see you flinching.”

“You’re on top of me. If I flinch, you might fall.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You craned your neck to look up at him, flashing a wide grin momentarily, “then suffer.”

You shook along with Wonwoo as he laughed at your reply, a strong arm secured tightly around your torso, while his free hand cradled the back of your head.

A large smile was permanently etched on Wonwoo’s face as you both laid in comfortable silence. When he had collapsed onto you just minutes ago after reaching his climax, he had asked so nicely if he could stay inside a little longer and who were you to complain? You’ve craved for this kind of intimacy with him for awhile now after being both so busy with work.

“You’re lucky i love you,” Wonwoo declared as he kissed the top of your head.

You hummed in response, trailing your fingers again on his side, nails lightly scratching on his skin, “did you just write ‘i love you too’ on my ribs?” He laughs, and you nod an affirmative.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and snuggling more into your boyfriend’s chest. Now would be a good time for time to stand still. The setting sun casted warm hues of light inside your bedroom and while the airconditioning was cold, Wonwoo was radiating just the right amount of heat to keep you from shivering.

“I’ve missed you,” you blurted out.

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed this,” another kiss was placed on top of your head, “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy.”

“I’m sorry too,” you sighed, resting your chin on his pecs to face him. “I wish i had more time to visit you in practice, or even just see you for lunch.”

“That’s okay, darling. We’re both just in our busy season. It will be over soon, yeah?” This time, Wonwoo’s palm was rubbing circular motions on the small of your back. “I was thinking we should go on a vacation when this all boils over.”

Your eyes grew wide, excited at your boyfriend’s suggestion, “really?”

“Yeah, maybe the countryside? Or out of the country? Where do you want?”

A blush crept up your cheeks at Wonwoo’s gesture of letting you choose, but honestly, you could’ve just stayed at your home and it would be okay. The last time you had a vacation, he made you choose the place too but this time, you didn’t really have a shortlist of destinations. You craned your neck to kiss his lips shortly, “surprise me?” You smiled shyly, “maybe somewhere peaceful and with fresh air? Anywhere as long as it’s with you is all I want, darling.”

“Okay, i’ll plan it out.” He confirmed before rolling you both over so his body hovered above yours

“Where are you going?” You pouted when he made a move to slip out of you.

“I need to clean you up, sweetie.”

You hooked a leg around his waist in retaliation, not at all ready to feel empty just yet. You attempted the most doe eyes you could muster, looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes and clenching your pussy as you did so, “Don’t you wanna fuck me one more time?”

Wonwoo scoffed at your question, the corner of his lips pulling into a devious smile at your sweet tone, “can’t get enough, darling?” His voice was lower by a few octaves, enough to send a shiver through your spine and a gush of wetness in your cunt.

“N-no, sir.”

Wonwoo smirked at the nickname before doing an experimental thrust. When your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he simply chuckled before dragging his cock out slowly and then swiftly burying himself to the hilt, rendering you even more speechless than you were. He could feel the rhythmic spasming of your walls, causing him to grow harder and harder.

You cupped his face to bring it closer to yours, kissing him and sucking at his lower lip. Wonwoo smiles in the kiss, amused at your neediness especially when he feels you lift your hips and roll them on his.

“Eager are we?”

“Wonuuu,” you whined pathetically, clawing at his back.

“Wonu?” he questioned with a glare, pinning you to the mattress agressively, “that’s not what you called me minutes ago, darlin’”

“Well, I don’t know where he went. Maybe if you give me what I want then I’ll start calling you it again,” you smirked, dragging your nails a little more harshly on his skin making him hiss.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, only to dive into your right breast and suck harshly at the bud, eliciting a loud moan from you. He snakes his hand in between you both, thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, immediately feeling you clench around his dick again.He mutters something about you being responsive but it flies over your head as he picks up his pace. The slide is much easier given your mixed cum and your new arousal so it takes him record time to hit your sweet spot. Every ridge and vein on his cock drags against your walls in a way that’s more delicious than awhile ago.

“S-sir, pl-pleaasee,” you shake, the pit of your stomach tightening as you arch your back.

“Does my darling want to cum?” The nickname sounds sickly sweet as it rolls off his tongue and it only helps you get closer to the edge.

You nod your head repetitively, chants of ‘yes’s’ and ‘oh’s’ spilling from your lips, but then Wonwoo withdraws his hand from your sensitive bud and stills inside of you, a vice grip around your body as he licks the shell of your ear, “you don’t get to cum until I say so.” The words were loud, clear and firm, in a tone you knew all too well.

“But Won—“ you cry out loud, tears forming in your eyes as you feel your climax painfully float away.

“Nuh uh,” two harsh thrusts are delivered straight to your gspot as your boyfriend hooks one of your legs on his shoulder, “Call me wrong again and I will not let you cum at all.”

“Fuuuuck,” you mewl from the way his cock rams into you with the new angle, following it up with whines at the thought of getting no release, “S-sorry, sir! ‘M sorry!”

“There it is. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo mocks, “now be my good girl and hold it out for me, yeah?”

You’re a incoherent mess as you try to obey him, but it isn’t so easy when his large cock is abusing your sore, sloppy cunt. Words of filth pair each one of his powerful thrusts.

“My dirty little whore”

“So fuckin’ needy for my cock.”

“Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

“Your pussy is mine.”

“All made for me.”

You were letting out moans of pleasure as Wonwoo pounded into you mercilessly, the knot in your stomach making itself felt again.

“Fu– ah! Fuck, s-sir! Please!” You asked, but it only fell on deaf ears. Both your wrists were tightly pinned with just one of your boyfriend’s large hand above your head and his blown out pupils were looking right at you.

“Make me cum, make me cum, make me cum, please!!!” you begged shamelessly, voice shaking and legs closing in as you teetered on the edge of your orgasm.

“Not. Yet.” Wonwoo withdrew fully from your hole and you shrieked at the loss, your hips lifting to chase after his dick only to have it slammed down by his free hand.

“Sir!!!” You scowled, eyebrows scrunching and eyes wide, anger and pain washing away yet another failed orgasm.

A proud, lopsided smirk appeared on your boyfriend’s face. He licked his bottom lip, enjoying the torture he beset on you despite his painfully hard cock.

“What?”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking, you knew that much.

“Nothing,” you cowered and blinked back your tears, erasing the anger in your face much to your dismay.

“Good girl.”

You swallowed thickly, squirming once more when Wonwoo tapped his heavy length on your pussy, coating himself with your slippery wetness— not that he needed any more of it— before purposely slapping your swollen clit with his angry red tip. The stimulation from that alone already had your toes curling and it took every fibre of your being to not just unravel right there.

You should’ve known calling him ‘sir’ would lead to this, but behind the tearful denials, you knew immense pleasure awaits.

“Siirrr, p-please! I n-need it.”

“Shhh. Patience, darling. We’ve got lots of time.” The demonic chuckle Wonwoo let out had you whimpering pitifully, your hands fighting to break free from his hold.

It seemed your boyfriend was hell bent on prolonging your agony when he simply continues to endlessly tap his shaft on your clit as he pumps himself.

Wonwoo was not usually loud in bed, save for his occasional grunts and broken groans when he falls into bliss. However, he’s decided now would be the perfect time to make matters all the more worse for you. He was being loud about it all, no holds barred. The squelching noises of his dick against your wet lips is now easily drowned out by the guttural moans Wonwoo has let slip past his mouth. You thought his dirty talk is music? Well, this was a symphony.

You had thought you wouldn’t get close this time around since he wasn’t inside you but the relentless knocks on your clit and the obnoxiously loud moans of your boyfriend have proved you wrong. Your hands balled into fists and you squeezed your eyes shut, mentally fighting off the ball of pleasure in your lower abdomen.

“Look at you, fighting so hard,” Wonwoo snickers, pressing down the tip of his cock to your clit in slow circular motions, “show me how good you are yeah?”

“Yes yes yes! ‘M good! Your good girl, promise!” You were so far gone, pliant to each one of your boyfriend’s requests.

“So wet, you’re soiling the bed,” he points out the obvious, “what a fuckin’ mess.” Wonwoo saw another shiver run through you, indicating you were seconds away from release. So for the third time that day, he denies you of the very thing you crave for, letting go of your wrists and then landing a sharp smack to your pussy before completely backing away to watch you spasm and curl up into a ball of needy tears and pathetic whines.

Your head was spinning and your senses were more than heightened. The slippery feeling of your arousal between your thighs were making it harder for you to squeeze them shut and stay still. Wonwoo simply loomed over you, giving you enough time to stabilize your breathing and let your failed orgasm ebb away. He knew that if he’d put so much just as one finger on your skin, you’d cum right away. Contrary to his actions, he wanted you to cum, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you cry for it first.

“S-sirr,” you sobbed.

A gentle touch carefully landed on your calf and when you didn’t flinch away, Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” your voice barely above a whisper, “n-need you…”

Whatever other words you had planned were swallowed by Wonwoo in a searing kiss. It was sloppy and messy, his skillful tongue darting to yours, teeth biting at your lips. You both moaned in unison when he impaled you on his cock once more.

“So big,” you groaned, initially amused at the delicious stretch until you realised, he’s had to hold off his own orgasm too.

Wonwoo gives it his all, jackhammering into you like it would be the last time. The sound of moans and skin slapping skin reverberate around the room. And then, there it is again, a coil so tight on your stomach, you fear you’re going delirious to the point of no return.

“Wo— Sir!” You quickly correct yourself, losing the least bit of dignity you had, tears drenching your cheeks, “i’m b-begging, p-please…”

The gentle kiss on your nose set a stark contrast from how his cock abused your sopping cunt, but relief finally took over you at the words whispered in your ear, “so good for me. Let go, baby. I got you.”

A strangled cry ripped out of your throat, your orgasm gloriously hitting you like a tidal wave. Wonwoo continued to talk you through it while holding down your convulsing body and slamming his hips into you, the sight of your pussy creaming his cock eventually producing broken moans from him.

“B-babe, too– ah! Too m-much!” More tears fell on your face as Wonwoo did deep snaps, his pelvic bone grinding on your clit.

“C’mon baby, m’ close. S-so close!”

Incomprehensible noises tumbled out of you when your boyfriend buried himself deep, pushing onto your sweetest spot and stilling there. Between his guttural groans, the perfect ‘O’ shape of his mouth and the thick loads of hot white cum that flooded your velvety walls, another coil snapped within you, a new round of arousal seeping out of your spent hole, except this time, much wetter and hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuuuck, darling,” Wonwoo trembled as the last of his nectar oozed out, “did I just make you squirt?”

“Fuck off,” you scowled, wishing you had more energy to wipe the smug look plastered on your boyfriend’s face.

“So I did?” Wonwoo pursed his lips and scrunched his nose, a look you very much love but absolutely hate right now.

You let your bottom lip jut out in a pout, your brows drawing to the center of your face, “how could I not when you edged me like that!”

“You’re cute,” was his only response, very slowly slipping his softening cock out of you. Your sweet boyfriend peppered kisses all over your face, replacing your frown with a smile. “Did I make you feel good, darling?” He asked genuinely, not wanting to ever subject you to something which you didn’t enjoy doing.

You gave him a shy nod, pulling him closer by his neck to close the gap between your mouths and share a loving kiss, much like how it was way earlier. It didn’t take long for you to part, your lungs still recharging to full capacity after having all the air knocked out of you.

Wonwoo gave you more time to recover, resting his head on the crook of your neck to leave soft kisses on your skin, especially on the blooming bruises he left in his wake.

“Darling, you can’t sleep yet,” he shook you gently when he noticed your prolonged stillness.

A small whine escaped your lips, “but Woo… i’m tired.”

“I know, i know,” he hushed softly, “but we need to get you cleaned up and also, change the sheets. I’ll make it quick.”

You had no time nor energy to protest. You were simply being carried bridal style into the bathroom, your boyfriend making sure you peed before he went on to wash up yours and his sweaty body with warm water. He was so so tender with his touch, especially in all parts between your legs. He’d keep an observant eye to every reaction your face made, careful not to cause any pain.

“Can… can you be mine?” you squeaked, and Wonwoo giggled at the drunken look of love on your face. Every time you think nothing can top sex with your boyfriend in your own little list of World’s Most Wonderful Things, you’re reminded that aftercare by him exists.

“Darling, i’m already yours,” Wonwoo chuckles.

You noded with a grin, brain really starting to drift off into slumber, “I like that.”

He fixes his glasses by the bridge of his nose after giving you a once-over, now dressed in cotton panties and one of his large navy blue shirts which hung mid-thigh on you.

Wonwoo lifts you up to sit on the bathroom counter before cupping your cheeks to meet your eyes, “baby, can you sit here and wait for me for about 10 to 15 minutes, please? I need to change our sheets.”

He had expected you to whine and retaliate, knowing you were always extra clingy after sex, but you simply nodded and smiled. You think you felt his lips on your forehead but you aren’t too sure.

The moment Wonwoo slips out of the bathroom, you’re fighting not to fall asleep, but 15 minutes is long, and maybe you can just lean your head a bit on the cold marble tile—

“Let’s get you to bed, love,” the tall man chuckles as he lifts you in his arms. You swore it hadn’t been fifteen minutes, not even ten! But then he walks past your bed and out of your shared bedroom. The light of the hallway enough to stir your brain awake.

“Where are we going?” You ask, nuzzling your face on the crook of his neck as he cradles you into another room.

Wonwoo laughs at your question, “We have to take the guest bedroom for the night, darling. You’ve soaked through our mattress.”

[fernandopiastri28]

Hello! I loved your last oscar fic so maybe you could do one when oscar repays her and is focused only on her pleasure?

hands in your hair ~ oscar piastri

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite.

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?”

wc: 2,437 || warnings: pure smut- oral (f), mentions of sex, hair kink??

(self indulgent- just me being obsessed with oscar's longer hair)

Her finger’s card through the soft locks of his brunette hair, relishing in just how long his hair’s gotten. It looks better than it has throughout their whole relationship, and she’s seen her fair share of his interesting haircuts. For a moment, her hands pull away and her touches stop. He wiggles around, his head lolling around in her lap. “Why’d you stop?” His voice comes out as a grumble, a slight pout to his lips.

“Sorry, Oz,” Y/N giggles, her thumbs moving to brush over his cheeks before moving back into his hair. His eyes are shut, trying to get in a last little bit of sleep before he has to get in the car for free practice 3. Oscar Piastri napping minutes before he has to be driving around a track he’s never driven before in his career- fork found in kitchen. He would sleep forever if he could, and likely would if it weren’t for Y/N, Andrea, and Lando all having to try to wake him up.

A knock sounds on the door a few minutes later, proving her point further. “Osc?” Lando’s voice travels underneath the door of Oscar’s room in the motorhome. When he doesn’t get a response, he calls out again. “Y/N, stop sucking his cock, we need to get in the cars soon” She cringes out, turning dark red that that’s what’s presumed they do whenever they’re alone.

It kinda is, but not always. “He’s sleeping, not getting head,” She retorts, enjoying her last few minutes before he gets whisked away.

“Sleeping, sex, quickies- who cares, please just wake him up,” Lando keeps knocking on the door and she frowns slightly, sad that her time with her boyfriend has to be cut short for him to race.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” She weasels her way out from under him, slipping down enough for her feet to hit the floor. “Oscar, time to wake up,” She brushes her hair off his forehead, kissing at the revealed skin. “Cmon, neither of us want you to get in trouble with Zak because you’ve just decided you don’t want to race today,” 

He groans, rolling himself over to bury his face into a cushion. “Fine,” His arms click as he pushes himself up, his fireproof top having hitched itself up to show off the majority of his toned abdomen. “Only because I don’t want to end up in a Danny Ric situation,” She sucks in a deep breath at that, her mouth moving into a grimace. “Sorry, too soon,” 

Oscar needs to remember that even though she’s his girlfriend, she’s a Ricciardo fan firstly, a true aussie supporting her country. “Good luck, loverboy” She pulls him in for a final kiss just as he’s working on getting his race suit zipped up, forgetting he only has one of his arms in a sleeve.

His hand squeezes at her waist, pushing it slightly into the edge of the bench they were previously perched upon, “Back here at the end of practice?” His adorable bunny teeth scrape along her bottom lip, his lips clasping around it.

“You’ve got it,” She sends him off with a swift smack to the butt, getting a howl out of him and a permanently red face of embarrassment when he sees that Lando saw the whole thing. 

He’s never going to hear the end of it.

~~~

Oscar goes crazy on the radio as free practice 3 ends, securing him a first place ‘position’ after getting second in the prior session. For a track that had been cancelled last year, causing him to miss out on racing it before today, he’s doing exceptional. He hurries back to his driver room, excited to get back to spending time with Y/N before qualifying. 

“Oz!” She’s already back on the bench, having made her way out of the paddock once the session had ended to avoid crowds of interviewers. “You were so good, baby!” She reaches her arms out, wrapping her legs around his waist once he’s fully in the hug.

His head buries into the crook of her neck, his hair tickling at her nose, “Did it for you,” He murmurs, his lips aimlessly moving against the collar of her shirt, unintentionally wetting it. “Can we cuddle like before? Your hands in my hair?” The question is slightly muffled by the angle he’s at, but she gets it enough. He’s not really one to go all out with celebrating, and FP3 isn’t something huge to party about anyways. 

She leans back, her head hitting against the wall and lets her legs dangle over the edge so her thighs squish up, just like how Oscar likes. He palms at them, before just dropping his head down onto them, using them as cushions. His cheeks get all smushed up, just like they do under his helmet. Without much time after that, her hands move to his hair, tugging on it ever so slightly, the floppy strands long enough to nearly cover her fingers completely as they disappear under all the brown hair there. He turns over slightly, enough to be looking up at her and have his head up closer to her face. 

After eye fucking eachother for what seems like a decade, his lips press into hers. The kiss is agonisingly slow, strings of spit connecting them and teeth tugging on each other's lips. Their faces seem to merge into one the longer it lasts, each breath being inhaled in tandem. The nose of smacking lips and wet suckling fills the small room, hands going on hips and waists as desperate attempts to hold back whatever incoming lustre they’re both heading towards until they get home tonight. 

They just have to wait til after quali, get back to the hotel, then they can fuck it out. 

Y/N’s the one who ends up pulling away, knowing she’s not strong enough to hold back if they’re gonna continue making out. Oscar’s an exceptional kisser, and sometimes, just that is enough for her to get off on. So they go back to Oscar’s head in her lap, sitting in silence as she strokes his head.

It’s only a few minutes of this before Oscar begins to get increasingly more irritated. A string of whines and groans leave his mouth as her nails scratch at his scalp and his hips shift against the cushioning under him, desperate for friction and pressure. “Y/N,” He mumbles into the flesh of her thighs, “I’m horny,”

Shocker. “Same,” She cranes her neck and hunching her back awkwardly so she can kiss the back of his head. His hair smells vaguely of sweat and some expensive aftershave, hints of hotel shampoo underneath. It’s distinctively Oscar, her favourite. 

His fingers drive into her thighs, leaving white splodges in their wake. “Can I go down on you?” That’s just about the last thing she was expecting to come out of his mouth. It’s not completely out of character for him, he’s actually pretty insistent on spending evenings after races in between her legs, whether his result was good or not. He could spend eternity there, his mind all foggy and dreamlike- like he’ll stay there forever. “I won’t make a mess- I promise, we can be quick. I just wanna make you feel good,”

It’s her favourite request, and her dress is hitched up before he can ask again. Towards the beginning of last season, she’d worn a wide variety of jeans and other long pants, until she realised just how many they found themselves desperate for a quickie before or in between races, and she’d permanently switched to flowy dresses and skirts ever since. 

He arranges himself onto his front, up on his knees and hands while he keeps his chest the lowest angled part of his body. She’s laying in the same direction as him, her knees towards the ceiling and her back flush to the bench, her fingers occupied by playing with the hem of her dress so as to not cum the second she sees his desperate face in between her parted legs. 

It feels like her heart is stopping as his breath gets heavier and hotter on her clothed heat, the fabric basically ruined from how wet she’s gotten. A digit glides across the soaked material, taunting her as he pushes against it. “Fuck, Oscar,” She hits her head down against the pillow under her head, not even realising when she’d gotten this needy.

“You’re dripping,” He notes, his eyes huge and glossy, all mesmerised by the sight. A finger hooks into her waistband, pulling them down tantalisingly slowly. She forces her head up, just enough to study his expression from just above her cunt. He licks his lips, his pupils somehow growing bigger. “Holy shit,” He doesn’t waste a second, his face plunging forward so get his mouth all over her.

Oscar’s talented in many things. Driving, writing hit tweets, taking digs at DRS, being mature in all circumstances, making people laugh with his dry and sarcastic humour, but above all- he’s got a talented mouth. His teeth scrape along her clit, sending shocks of pleasure through her bundle of nerves. Y/N could cum just from that, it feels like floating on cloud nine. She doesn’t even understand how it could possibly get any better until his nose begins nudging her clit, his tongue pushing inside her hole. 

His cock was leaky in his tight boxers, his rock hard bulge still concealed by his fireproofs handing awkwardly off his hips. As she stared down at him, she somehow got even wetter each time he paused momentarily to stare at her wrecked cunt then dove back in like a starved creature. Unclips nails dig further into her thighs, pushing them further apart so his face is fully coated in her wetness. “Oh my god Oscar,” Her voice comes out so depraved and debauched.

Only his eyes are visible as he keeps his steel hard gaze on her. A pair of usually big, puppy brown eyes, the type that ooze innocence and angelic beauty are hardened and dark with lust. Her hands slip into his hair, needing something to ground her as he takes her apart from the inside out. She genuinely can’t get over his hair. How silky it is, how good it feels to yank on, how hot he looks.

His fingers move from her thighs up to under her shirt, practised fingers trailing under the wire of her bra. He pulls the tight fabric far enough from her skin that it leaves a pale mark when it snaps back after release. It’s hell being tortured like this, but it also feels so good. His indexes and thumbs on both hands work the clasp of the bra, undoing it with not much work. It’s an improvement from a few months prior when she’d settled for doing each time as he was so clueless on how to do it smoothly. 

The crazed look in his eyes speaks a million words. She might be the only one getting a proper physical sexual gratification out of this, but he’s clearly getting off on her being in near excruciating pleasure. It feels better than anything they’ve done in a while. She bites her lip, watching as a lock of hair falls onto his forehead, a perfect little curl above his furrowed eyebrows. It’s cute, it’s hot, it’s everything- all at once. 

Now Y/N feels like she could cum just because of his hair, and that’s definitely a new thought.  

He moans, watching his eyes soften at the noise, “That’s so good- you’re fucking amazing at this,” He’s relentless- his tongue, noise, lips, and teeth all committed to making her reach her peak. “Look at you,”

“Look at me? Look at you,” God, he’s so whipped. His index finger glides along her open hole, slipping it inside her and curling it instantaneously. A pain bubbles in her stomach- she’s going to cum. “Fuck, look at that, so perfect around my fingers, just as perfect in my mouth.” She’s leaking around his fingers, her body reacting to his ministrations and praises. 

He can read her like a book, he knows that her twisted up expression can only mean one thing. “You don’t need to ask me, baby, you can come when you need to,” A sharp breath leaves her lungs and her head falls backwards, her orgasm crashing into her like a freight train. 

He kisses up from her aching cunt to her the lower part of her stomach, then her abdomen. He takes his time on her exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around her nipples, before marking her with a love bite in between them. “Looks good on you,“ He looks down at her from where he kneels between her legs, basically drooling at how wrecked she looks post orgasm underneath him. 

Y/N struggles to prop herself up on her elbows, her core aching as she tries to sit up. She angles for a kiss, luckily met halfway by Oscar. “Your turn.. I wanna suck you off,” She pants, her hand moving to push down his race suit. He swats her hand away, laughing at her eagerness. 

“Nah, that was plenty for me to get you off,” He declines, slowly getting off of her so he can clean up the mess he did make in the end, despite his promise. She opens her mouth to argue with him but she’s swiftly shut up with his mouth back on hers. “Plus, I have qualifying in… fuck, like 10 minutes,” He frowns, helping to redress her. 

“Oscar?” Lando’s voice joins the conversation, once again right outside their door. “Now are you getting your dick sucked?” He taunts, like it’s a joke this time around. “Or can we head for quali together?”

He’s wrong, it was the other way around. “Nah, I’ll be out in a moment. Thanks for waiting for me,” He zips his suit up, giving Y/N a final grin.

“Oscar,” She groans. She hates leaving him hard, it feels unfair that she’s just had the best orgasm of her life and he has to go get in a car and drive around at crazy stupid speeds with an aching mass between his legs. 

“Y/N,” He mocks teasingly, peppering her face in chaste kisses, “I’m okay, If I have a killer qualifying session tonight, we’ll continue this later. She gives a final comb through his hair with her fingers, enjoying every bit of it just incase he decides to cut it.

P2 sure is killer, and the sex after it is amazing. Even better when he finds out about the penalty, because angry Oscar is so hot. Her hands stay planted in his hair the whole time, and by the end of it, in their post coital comfort, he promises he won't cut it for as long as she wants.

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you become friends with Skye Riley and watch her grow into the pop star she is, that unfortunately means you get a front row seat into her demise.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, injury and death.

author's note: okay so this took forever and i’m very sorry for the wait! i started writing it but it just kept getting longer so now it's 3 parts 😂

a few things to note - the smile demon thing doesn't exist, it's just a story about her bc why not. Also her friend Gemma (?) also doesn't exist bc i couldn't think of a way to include her in the story lol

okay that's it, enjoy!!

The thing with Skye Riley was she was always so full of hope and passion and optimism for her craft. From the very first day we met, I knew she would become something special to so many people out there. I just never intended for her to become something special to me.

She was just starting out, some rising star doing a performance for a local TV station in the city. I didn't even know who she was, never having heard of nor seen her before. The reason I was at the station was because it was another one of my odd behind-the-scenes photography jobs I'd landed, fresh out of university at twenty-two years old.

I was messing with my camera near the snacks table when I felt a presence and looked up to see her grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl. She didn't notice me at first, but I definitely did a double take, not knowing she was the talent at first, but thinking how pretty this girl was. She must have felt my gaze as she looked up and flashed me a picture-perfect smile, almost making me melt there and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

I blinked before smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She chuckled before nodding to my camera. "You work here?"

I glanced down at my camera. "Yeah. Well, kind of. It's only temporary. I'm doing some stills for their website. You?"

She hummed, intrigued. "Nice. I'm performing, so it might be me you're shooting. Do get my good side, please."

It was then that I realised she was Skye Riley, the talent booked for the day. "Shit, you're the guest."

She began to laugh, in a sweet, reserved kind of way. "I am, yeah. I'm Skye."

"My apologies, Skye," I said sheepishly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," she repeated, before smiling softly. "It's all good." She picked at another grape before continuing, "Between you and me, this is my first ever TV appearance and I'm scared shitless."

I realised she wasn't kidding when she didn't smile. Clearing my throat, I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be great. Clearly you're here for a reason. Just... try not to overthink it. Be yourself."

She glanced out at the stage. "I suppose you're right." Her gaze returned to mine with a half smile. "Thanks."

"At least if the interview goes south, you know you'll get some good photos from it," I joked, lifting my camera in the air playfully.

She laughed wholeheartedly, thankfully not offended. "Gee, thanks. Can't wait to see 'em."

I couldn't help but smile as I said, "I'm kidding. I'm sure you'll be great, Skye."

Before she could respond, someone called her name and she looked out to them before giving me a nervous smile. "I guess that's me. Was nice meeting you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You too," I responded. "And yeah, maybe. Break a leg out there."

She gave me a final smile before leaving to join her manager – who I eventually discovered was her mum – by the stage. I wasn't expecting to see her again, though I was definitely blown away by her talent when she performed that night. And as far as TV appearances went, she nailed it.

I suppose that being the same age in a world of adults and both starting out in our careers at the same time made it easy to talk to her. Especially when I was covering another last-minute paying photography gig at some flashy charity event that she just happened to be at.

It was her who spotted me this time, as I got some shots of the guests dancing around on the dance floor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and straightened up, wondering who it could be.

"Y/N?" her voice called as I turned around, certainly surprised to see her. When she saw me, her smile widened. "Yes, I knew I recognised you. It's me, Skye! Not sure if you remember me from the TV thing last month."

I was surprised to see her, but equally thrilled, returning her smile. "Skye, yes, of course I remember you. I didn't expect to see you again if I'm being honest, let alone so soon."

She chuckled. "At least you're honest. I'm glad though. I really enjoyed our chat last time." Her eyes looked me up and down. "You look good."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing she didn't mean it like that but still unable to accept compliments from pretty girls. "Thanks, so do you."

And I wasn't lying. She looked amazing in her glitzy purple dress, long, curled dark hair and smokey eye makeup. In just the month since we'd last seen each other, her music was already blowing up more and more, and she was really starting to come into herself as a star.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, are you working this event too? That's so cool for you!"

"Yeah, it's definitely a great opportunity," I replied, glancing around. "Just trying to get the best gigs I can, y'know? Get my name out there."

"Well, I personally loved the stills you took of me," she complimented sincerely, dark eyes glittering under the lights. "I think you're really talented."

"I think you might be biased," I said, unable to take the compliment, "but thank you."

She rolled her eyes playfully before nodding behind her. "Do you wanna get a drink and chat or are you not allowed? You're actually the only person I know here."

I was surprised she wanted to talk more, but also felt the same way. "Erm...," I paused, checking my watch and glancing around. "I should really work or I might get told off. But I finish in an hour, before the event ends. I don't know if you're still around then?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she said with a bright smile. "I'll be hanging around if you wanna find me? I'd love to know more about these photography gigs of yours."

I exhaled softly, nodding. "Sounds good. Only fair you tell me all about this becoming-a-celebrity gig of yours then." She laughed at this and it brought a smile to my lips. "I'll catch you later, Skye."

She nodded, satisfied. "See you in a bit."

And from there, it was safe to say we became friends. After getting to know each other better and exchanging numbers, it was easy enough to make a friend in the same boat as me, even if her boat was slightly different to mine. Of course, it was my mistake to be even mildly attracted to my new friend because that was not a good starting point for our friendship.

Because of how close we got, close enough for us to consider each other a best friend, she invited me to join her on tour as a documentary-style photographer. I was still building my experience and portfolio whilst she claimed she just really didn't want to be alone on her first ever international tour, so it was a win-win.

It was during the tour that I realised how much I actually liked her, in a dangerously non-platonic kind of way. And any little thing she did that was slightly touchy had me stumbling over my words – which was almost all the time because she was the touchiest friend I'd ever had.

It could be something as simple as braiding my hair for me and I'd forget how to breathe, or one time I was sat in her dressing room, listening to her mum talk about the show when she decided she wanted sit on my lap. Such casual friend things and yet I was malfunctioning every time.

Naturally, I forced myself to get over it.

—

Spending our 20s together meant I got a front row seat to her eventual decline into substance abuse. She was already an anxious person, though did well to disguise it, but her quick rise to fame and the constant pressures of her team did her no favours.

The first time I truly witnessed just how much she dealt with was about a year later, when she lost her voice in the midst of preparing for another tour. I was hanging around the side of the stage as they did a rehearsal a few nights prior to her first show, simply showing my support, when everybody noticed the croak in her throat as she attempted to sing a verse. After realising she couldn't, she was taken to a doctor.

"She's been under too much stress and her vocal cords are worn," the doctor explained to her mum in her dressing room, Skye sat opposite her. "She needs vocal rest."

Her mum seemed uncertain. "How long will that take?"

The doctor began to pack her things away as she spoke, "I'd advise a minimum of a few days, but she probably needs a week."

"She doesn't have a week," her mum snapped. "Her first show is in a couple of days. Thousands of fans are expecting to hear her sing."

I glanced at Skye, noticing the guilty expression she wore as she looked down to her hands. Her mum was always putting pressure on her like this and it was never nice to see her. I settled for resting my hand on hers, earning her attention, and squeezing it gently to let her know I was there for her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley, but your daughter is in a lot of pain and if she keeps going like this, she won't even have a tour," the doctor said impatiently. "Give her the rest she needs and she'll be okay."

Her mum sighed. "Fine. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded before giving Skye a reassuring smile and leaving the four of us alone – including Skye's mum's assistant.

"Sorry, mum," Skye muttered, and I nudged her gently in warning.

"You just heard the doctor," I reminded her. "No talking."

Her mum merely massaged the bridge of her nose with frustration, as if working out what to do next. It was harsh, insensitive even, but it wasn't my place to intervene.

"Okay, it's okay," she decided, before looking to her daughter. "You can still rehearse everything else. No vocals until the first show."

Skye nodded, standing up, but I quirked a brow as I looked to her mum.

"Shouldn't she rest?" I said, holding back my critique as much as I could. "If anything, it'll help her recover quicker. The doctor said she's already under stress."

"Dancing won't kill her," her mum said dismissively, before nodding to Skye. "I'll see you back out there, okay?"

Skye nodded as I raised my brows with disbelief, watching her mum and mum's assistant leave. Only when they were gone did I scoff and look to Skye.

"Are you serious? You need to rest, Skye," I told her. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."

Skye closed her eyes, frowning as she shook her head. I then realised my complaining wasn't helping and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But it's not right. And if you were hurting, you should've said."

She swallowed thickly before opening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach them.

"Skye...," I started, but didn't want to upset her anymore than she clearly already was. Instead, I gave her a hug, hoping it would mean something.

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't let go, not until I did, and I only did because we were hugging way too long and I didn't want to piss her mum off even more.

"Take it easy," I said to her when we pulled apart, searching her gaze. "Stop if it's too much, alright?"

She nodded, squeezing my hands gently, but I knew deep down that she was only saying what I wanted to hear, or rather doing what I wanted to see. She was too obedient to her mum and didn't want to let everyone down, even if it meant working herself to death.

It was all of these little things adding up that inevitably pushed her to seek out an escape where I just couldn't help her anymore.

The first time I realised it might be an issue was that same tour, about halfway through, when I was photographing some of the crew the day before a concert to eventually use in the tour documentary they were making of Skye. It was a fun day for me since I loved hanging out with the people who made the magic happen, and I was excited to show my photos to Skye back at the hotel like I always did. Only, this time, when she let me into her room, I realised she was drunk.

If it wasn't the acrid scent of alcohol that clung to her clothes that gave it away, or her giddy nature as she flopped on her bed, it was the countless mini bar bottles and cocktail glasses littered around her room.

"Did you... have a party with yourself or something?" I asked with confusion, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughed like I'd said the funniest thing ever smacking my hand gently as she stared at the ceiling. "Something like that."

I watched her, mildly concerned. "Are you gonna be okay for sound check tomorrow? Your mum might actually kill you if you show up with a hangover."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's a one-off, honest. I just wanted some fun."

Stupidly, I believed her. "Okay, well... maybe we should attempt to sober you up. C'mon."

She groaned, rolling over to stick her head under her pillow. "Later."

"Skye, please," I tried to reason. "Have you eaten anything?"

She ignored me and I took that as a no.

"I'll order some room service, yeah? Get some food in you," I said, talking to air as she continued to ignore me.

I had it easy enough that evening, looking after her. And even though she did wake up with a hangover the next morning, she promised she'd never act so irresponsibly again. I didn't care, I just didn't want her to struggle.

Of course, that was only the start. Whereas we'd usually hang out together after her shows, she began to leave to hang out with some of the crew and their friends. I wouldn't have minded since she was her own person, but it meant she'd come back absolutely hammered and it only worried me. It kept happening, to the point that it was a regular thing. Even after the tour ended, it was almost impossible to see her without a drink in her hand.

We fought about it at first, but I didn't want to push her away even more, especially into the arms of her shitty Hollywood friends. She was once open but now she'd hide things from me, making it difficult to know exactly what she was up to. I couldn't control her and I didn't want to, but she didn't seem to understand the severity of her actions.

It kept getting worse as the years went on, especially when she got a new boyfriend. They were awful for one another, terrible influences. Skye became more irritable to everyone around her, including me. It was like being friends with a completely new girl. Between the drinking and the partying and the drugs, I couldn't keep up. And as much as I cared about her, I wasn't important enough in her life for her to even consider listening to.

The final straw was when the paparazzi released some photos of her having a breakdown, screaming at some poor makeup artist for no reason at all. A joint was in her hand, she looked a mess, and it was enough to send her mum in a livid spiral. I wanted to stay out of it, but when her mum practically forced me to go to her and try to knock some sense into her, I had no choice.

When I knocked on the door of Skye's apartment, she saw it was me and rolled her eyes but let me in.

"She send you to fix me, did she?" she asked, walking to the kitchen.

I tried not to get offended as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. "It's bad, Skye. You look insane."

She faked a laugh. "Wow, way to fuckin' sugarcoat it."

I sighed, leaning on her kitchen island and looking over at her. "Are you gonna act childish with me right now or are we gonna have an actual conversation?"

She raised her brows, surprised and irritated. "Seriously?"

Maybe it was the years of putting up with her on-again off-again mood swings, or maybe it was just her complete disregard to listen to anyone who cared about her, but I'd had enough in that moment.

"Skye, you're embarrassing yourself," I said sternly, meeting her red-rimmed gaze. Of course she was high. "It's concerning and these pictures should be a wake up call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Good job I didn't ask your opinion."

I rubbed my face, fed up of her anger. "Skye, I'm not trying to argue."

"Then stay out of my fucking business, Y/N! You're always on my back about this shit and it's getting old."

Ignoring her tantrum, I said, "I'm worried about you."

Suddenly, she began to laugh slowly, quietly, mockingly. "I bet."

Confused, I watched her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She tilted her head as she nodded at me, arms crossed over her chest condescendingly. "It's written all over your face. You're in love with me."

I couldn't really comprehend what she'd said, not at first, but then my face felt hot and I felt like I'd been caught out.

"God, you're so obvious!" she whined loudly, approaching me. "You've been obvious with it. All these fucking years."

How did she know? How could she?

"You- you don't even know what you're saying," I finally spoke, cursing inwardly when I stumbled. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning, you're that fucking high."

"Oh, I'll remember," she assured me with a smile so cruel that it looked nothing like my best friend. "Because it's written all over your face."

She poked me in the cheek and I swatted her finger away instinctively, ashamedly, making her laugh.

"You're terrible at hiding it," she continued, eyes flickering between mine. "It's laughable."

Every part of me was screaming to leave, to run away and never come back. My skin was crawling and I wanted the earth to swallow me up, hot with shame. Tears pricked my eyes, embarrassed and hurt by how cruel she was being, how careless she was with my feelings.

"Did you think there was a shot?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you stuck around all this time?"

I frowned, attempting to glare at her, but it was a foolish one. "I stuck around because I care. Because you're my friend."

"You're lying." She laughed again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Forget it."

"It's forgotten."

I couldn't even look at her, turning around to leave. Never had she been so hurtful with her words.

"Oh, fine, fuck off like you want!" she shouted as I opened the front door.

I clenched my jaw as I glanced back at her. "You've become such a bitch."

She glared at me. "Better a bitch than a shitty admirer."

My heart crumbled, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

And with that, I slammed the door and left. Though, not without breaking down on the lift down to the lobby.

—

She never called to apologise. She never texted to check in. And I wasn't going to crawl back to her, not out of worry or friendship or anything. She'd made a fool of me, hurt me so much that I felt like an idiot. Because I was. I was the idiot who had my love for her practically tattooed all over my face. How could I have been so foolish?

An almost ten-year friendship gone, just like that.

Months passed and it was admittedly strange not to have her in my life. Even though our relationship had drastically changed for the worst, she'd been a consistent part of my life. And now she was just... gone.

The anger and embarrassment easily turned into hurt, which turned into sadness, and I found myself missing her greatly. But she made no effort to get in touch, so I knew I needed to move on.

It was those few months later when her car accident was all over the news. That was how I'd found out. She'd been on a drive with her boyfriend who unfortunately died, and she was in hospital. Or, at least, that was all the press knew.

As frustrated as I was with her, none of it mattered when I found out what had happened. Every part of me was concerned, wanting to know if she was okay. I was so close to calling her mum and asking to visit Skye in hospital, but I was too cowardly to do it. I'd convinced myself that she wouldn't want me there. Still, I missed her greatly.

A year passed soon enough and the only connection that I had with Skye Riley was the same as all of her fans – through a TV screen. Her story was in the headlines for ages – her public breakdown, her accident, her rise back to stardom. Interviews, the announcement of her new album, her new tour... I avoided it where I could, but she was a superstar and it wasn't always easy.

I'd gotten over her. I had. I never expected to hear from her again and that was okay.

Until I got a call out of the blue and it just so happened to be her.

"Hello?" I answered the unknown number with confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you might still...," the girl on the other side mumbled, before clearing her throat. "It's Skye. Erm, Skye Riley."

I stopped what I was doing, surprised to hear her voice. "Oh."

"Sorry, I know this is really random," she said quickly, nervous, "but, erm, I... I wanted to– I'd like to see you." She paused, then added, "If that's possible."

My brain was still playing catch up from the fact that she'd even called, let alone that she wanted to see me. I didn't know what to think.

"Why?" I finally asked, not trying to be hostile, but genuinely surprised.

She paused, and then spoke, "I miss you. A lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down. "Skye, it's been a year."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I've been in rehab for half of it..." When I didn't laugh, she continued, "Sorry. I just– I want to apologise. To explain. Ideally in person."

It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Please," she said quietly, noticing my silence.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As easy (and satisfying) as it would've been to tell her no and hang up, a part of me still cared. And annoyingly enough, I'd never gotten closure which had haunted me for a while. Maybe this could be it.

"Okay," I breathed out.

"Really?" She was as surprised as I sounded when I'd answered.

"Yeah," I said before I could change my mind. "Maybe this–?"

"Tomorrow?" she cut me off without meaning to.

"Oh," I started, but she spoke again.

"Sorry, never mind," she said nervously. "When did you want to meet?"

"No, tomorrow should be fine," I agreed.

I heard her exhale with relief. "Great. Good. Is around three okay? Maybe we can get a coffee or something."

"Sure."

"Great, thanks," she said quietly. "I'll text you."

"I'll save your number," I said without thinking.

She laughed awkwardly, making me cringe at my own discomfort. "Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

After saying my goodbyes and ending on an awkward note, I took a moment to acknowledge what just happened. Getting a call from her was genuinely the last thing I'd expected, but I was willing to hear her out. If not for her sake, then for my own.

—

I couldn't stop spinning the ring on my finger, a nervous habit of mine, as I walked into the bistro downstairs to Skye's dance studio. We'd agreed to meet there after her rehearsals since it was usually only staff that frequented it so it wouldn't draw attention from her fans.

When I walked in, I glanced around, seeing it was empty for the most part, save for one or two patrons. And then I finally spotted her sat at a booth on the side, looking a lot different to how I'd last seen her, though still very similar to the girl I once knew.

When she saw me, she perked up, looking as nervous as I felt, and I had no choice but to walk over to her. She stood up, blinking, unsure whether to speak first.

"Hi," I said, when she didn't, meeting her flittering eyes.

"Hi," she responded, before swallowing thickly and glancing at the table and then me again. "Erm..." She leaned in to give me a hug, which I had no choice but to return, but it was awkward on both sides. When we pulled apart, she smiled uncomfortably. "I– sorry, I–"

"It's fine," I said quickly, before nodding awkwardly.

She slid into her side of the booth so I did the same, hoping she couldn't hear my irregular heartbeat. I looked over at her, noticing her new look. She'd cut off the long, dark hair she'd had as long as I knew her, donning a pixie cut that was now dyed blonde. I'd seen it in the press, but it still took some getting used to. Suited her though. Annoyingly, she was still as beautiful as she was the day I'd met her.

"The new look is nice," I spoke, breaking the silence and nodding to her.

A nervous smile crept on her lips. "Thanks." A pause and then: "You look good, Y/N."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling just as nervously.

She pushed an iced coffee towards me, saying, "I ordered for you, but I'm now realising your favourite order could've changed since we last... yeah. I can get you something different if you want."

I looked at the drink, reading the label, surprised she'd even remembered. "No, no, this is still my favourite. Thanks, Skye. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do," she replied with a shrug, playing with the lid of her own coffee. "I... thanks for meeting with me."

I glanced up at her. "I thought I'd never hear from you again to be honest."

She frowned, looking down. "I know. I debated calling sooner. I... I owe you a huge apology." Her eyes met mine with the utmost sincerity. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For the way I took advantage of your kindness, your friendship. The way I ignored your warnings and support. And–"

She stopped, eyes flickering to her drink guiltily, and she didn't even need to say it for me to know what she was remembering next. Everything she'd said to me before I left for good. How horrible it was, how embarrassing it was. Even now, I couldn't look at her, my face growing warm. After all this time, it was still so humiliating.

"It was awful, I know," she said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say other than, "It was."

At this, she sighed. "I know it's unforgivable and that this isn't an excuse, but I wasn't in the right head space then. I just– I miss you. After the accident..."

When she was quiet for a second longer than usual, I looked up at her, seeing a faraway look in her expression.

"Skye?" I prompted, a hint of concern in my voice.

She shook her head, glancing at the table before meeting my gaze. "Sorry. I just– I miss you and I wanted to see you."

"You keep saying that you miss me, but you had a phone," I pointed out gently, not trying to argue but unsure how to believe her. "You could've called. Especially after the accident."

I wanted you to call, I so badly wanted to add, but it was embarrassing to admit.

"I tried to," she said with a frown. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again after what I said."

I searched her gaze, saddened to hear that. "You thought I wouldn't have wanted to make sure you were okay? Just because of one argument? That I wouldn't have put all of that bullshit aside to make sure you were actually alive?"

She didn't meet my eyes, but she shook her head weakly, and I realised I was a being a little unfair despite it all.

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, drawing shapes in the condensation of my cup mindlessly. "It's not fair of me to say you should've called. It was a lot, I can imagine. And I had a phone too, I know. I just... I didn't think you cared  anymore. After everything, I thought the last person you'd want to see in hospital was me."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," she muttered, picking at her coffee cup lid again. "It's far from the truth though."

A quiet fell between us as neither of knew what to say nor where to go. It was a lot to digest, knowing she regretted how things had ended up. Selfishly, it was all I'd wanted all this time – an apology and some closure.

"I want to make things right," she said, eyes flickering up to mine.

I met her halfway, exhaling gently. "I forgive you, Skye. I appreciate your apology."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, as did her expression, and she nodded slightly. "I'd like to try again. If you would."

"I figured that's where this was going," I admitted, before nodding slowly. "I'd like that too."

She breathed out with relief, containing it behind a simple nod, and it meant a lot to me that this meant a lot to her, more than I thought it would.

"I really missed you," I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Her eyes were glassy as she gave me a small smile. "I really missed you too, Y/N."

I stood up, as did she, and hugged her properly. It was unlike the previous one and she returned it with just as much relief, the two of us clinging tightly to one another like it was the last.

It was still a mystery to me as to whether rebuilding a friendship with Skye would be for the better, but my heart was saying to do it and I couldn't help myself. She was so easy to give into, so easy to fall back into place with.

[gyllenhaalstories]

FETISH — RUSTY SABICH

summary: something something you needed a job and raymond offered you to work at the office. something something there is a misunderstanding and you pique rusty's curiosity.

warnings: this story happens before the events of presumed innocent so rusty is still a prosecutor, includes tommy molto (with mentions of barbara, carolyn, nico & raymond), sexual harassment, cheating, smut (masturbation, underwear smelling). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3360

gif credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: raymond is the star of this fic and so is @sizzlingcloudmentality's idea that saved this story 📂 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

You were thankful for Raymond Horgan. He considered you as his niece, he had helped you more times than you could remember. He bought you the biggest dollhouse you could dream of when you were a child, he set an absurd amount of money aside for your education and now he had offered you a job most law students of Chicago could never even dream of. Most of the time, you were thankful for Raymond.

"So, let met get this right... You found the file in a recycling bin?" Tommy's voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard. The twisted grin glued to his face sent a shiver down your spine.

You were not thankful for Raymond at this precise moment. He left you all alone to answer his phone calls while everyone in the office had left to enjoy their weekend. You assumed that no one would care to call the district attorneys on a Friday afternoon. No. Evening. The sun had started setting, you did not even see the day go by. You assumed that no one would bother, but Raymond had never been more popular. "For the third time, yes, I found the documents in the bin and I thought it was important material so I grabbed it before the janitors did. If I had known, I would not have touched it. I can assure you of that, Tommy."

"Mister Molto," he rectified, he pursed his lips. "It's Mister Molto for you."

"Since when are you so passionate about recycling, Mister Molto?" You spat out his name with disgust. There was just something about Tommy. Everyone in the office had been pleasant, you had no trouble believing that Raymond knocked on each door and instructed them to treat you with the upmost respect. Everyone listened, except Tommy.

Tommy's gaze fell on your hand, he watched you tap your fountain pen on the notepad nervously. You were always so nervous in his presence, surely this must mean you liked him. You liked him but you were too shy to admit it. "What did you do with the documents?"

You grabbed your notepad, imitating your every action. Maybe, you thought, the man would understand better if you gave him the visuals. You explained how you pulled the file out of the bin and set it down exactly where Tommy had found it: on Nico Della Guardia's desk. You assumed he would know better than you what to do with it, but Tommy had the reflexes of a cat and snitched the papers before anyone else could see them. "Is it more clear now? Do you want me to tell you the whole story again for the fourth time?"

You were making an excuse to talk to him longer. He found it endearing. His thin lips curled into a smile, he shook his head. He looked down at the file he gripped on tightly, so tightly that the sweat of his palm began to warp the material. "In this office, we value being thorough..." The phone rang, cutting his lecture off. Tommy looked down again. He recognized the code written on the file, he even recognized the handwriting. It was from a case Carolyn Polhemus had worked on with Rusty Sabich.

You exhaled dramatically and let the phone ring three times before picking it up. You repeated your greeting like a robot, expecting the caller to insist you made Raymond magically appear so they could talk to him.

"It's you." A familiar voice resonated through the phone. Rusty was calling. "Hi." You could practically hear him smile. "I was just wondering if you saw my stapler anywhere. Ray always steals it, and..."

"We also value respect around here." Tommy pulled your attention back to you, annoyed that you picked up the phone without excusing yourself. "Anyway." Another grin, another wave of shivers. He rambled about how you should stick to your tasks, how you would be a better secretary if you did not go snooping around people's trash. Apparently, he could not even begin to comprehend the concept of a simple mistake.

You narrowed your eyes while he continued his monologue. You could not believe what your left ear heard, as your right ear burned against the phone while it perceived words about Raymond's kleptomaniac's tendencies regarding office supplies. You tried to breathe through your nose to calm down. Overwhelmed. Overstimulated. You wanted this day to be over.

"Am I disturbing something? I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother..." Rusty frowned, trying to recognize the other voice he heard. He could not see the scene, but he started to imagine the agitation. "Who's with you?"

Tommy's expression faded into a dark one. Annoyance, perhaps. You could not read him well and you certainly did not want to. He gave you... Ick. There was something else, a spark in his eyes that made you swallow a knot of nerves stuck in your throat. "Evidence from a trial is not to be messed with. I hope you learned your lesson. Or maybe... You wanted to see me. So we could have a little talk just the two of us. And the problem is that you can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

You scoffed. "That's inappropriate." Tommy was not annoyed. He was aroused. There was a double meaning to his words that made you sick to your stomach. He lost no time defending himself, hiding behind his inflated ego to justify how his comment was perfectly normal.

Rusty had trouble discerning a single thing from the word vomit that fell out of his colleague's mouth. He tried to inquire about what was happening in vain. He had to pull the handset away from his ear, Tommy and you argued in full volume. However, Rusty heard one thing before you violently hung up the phone, forcing it back into the receptacle. He remained unsure of who you directed your rage-filled words to.

"Go fuck yourself!"

*~*~*

"Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself!"

The sound of your voice echoed in Rusty's mind. It had been all he could think about. He was fixated. Obsessed.

He replayed the scene over and over again. By now, he understood you spat these words out at Tommy.

Rusty spat on his hand, squeezing it around his cock that he pumped to full hardness.

You sounded like a broken record in his head. By now, he still did not understand why these words had such an effect on him.

His left hand dived into the teal laundry basket, feeling around. He pulled out the towel he used after his session on the treadmill earlier. He also pulled out a bunched up piece of black fabric. The plastic basket was roughly pushed to the side before Rusty flattened the towel on the counter. His right hand moved up and down on his cock, he was desperate for some relief.

You spent so much time with Tommy. Too much time. Why? Why did you spend time with Tommy? All the small talk by the coffee machine or the elevator. Why was Tommy going down in the elevator with you? Why was it always him?

Rusty pulled his hand away from his cock that twitched. He looked down at the counter, grabbing a clothespin to fidget with. He was thankful there was a window before him and not a mirror.

A pathetic sight.

He pulled his sweatpants down below his ass, a drop of precum even left a wet stain on the front. His cock throbbed with the desire to be touched again. His thoughts fought an unfair race.

He wanted to think of you.

But he was thinking of Tommy. Of his jealousy towards Tommy. He could not see straight. Rusty was too blinded by his insatiable lust to remember all of the times he caught you grimacing after Tommy walked away, flinching when Tommy initiated physical contact with a squeeze of your shoulder or a pat on your lower back. You hated Tommy. Rusty hated Tommy.

"Go fuck yourself!"

You resisted Tommy. Why were you not resisting him? Why were you always so pleasant and nice with him? Rusty remained charming and resourceful. When it came to working his way through a case or helping you with a task Raymond gave you that seemed way above your skill set, he was the smartest guy in the room.

Rusty was stupid for wanting to think of you.

He dropped the wooden clothespin on the counter and proceeded to continue. His dominant hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his long fingers grazed over his balls. His left hand brushed over the bunched up fabric. Clumsily, he unfolded it and it revealed to be a pair of panties.

He should think of Barbara.

He brought the panties up to his nose. He brought his hand up to his tip. That would work. That usually worked. It had not worked for a long time, but... But it had to work right now.

He inhaled her scent and he moaned. "Good. Keep going." He traced his fingertip over his slit, smearing the precum over it while he relaxed. He closed his eyes, images of Barbara flashed. His face buried in the crook of her neck, his eyes blinded by the black curls of her hair, his hands squeezing on the soft flesh of her ass. He kept going. He kept thinking of Barbara.

Barbara's features started to morph with yours. He imagined your smile. He imagined your curves. He imagined the sound of your voice moaning his name.

"Fuck!" Rusty shouted. His thin upper lip curled in frustration. His face twisted with anger towards himself while his mind became a mosaic crafted with the memories he had of you.

He barely had anything. It was all office related. It was all Raymond related. It was all Tommy related. He barely had any memory alone with you. You should tell him to go fuck himself. You should push him away. You should resist him. Resist. Resist. Resist.

He needed to resist you.

He wrapped Barbara's panties around his cock and he used them to jerk off. His shoulders loosened up. The fabric dragged over his cock, a familiar sensation that used to make him climax effortlessly. Just the thought of it would make him hard.

Like a fetish. His wife's panties used to work like magic. It could work again. He needed it to work again.

He threw his head back, his eyes fluttered close. "That's it, that's it. Feels so fucking good..." He mumbled. His hand and the panties blurred together while he stroked himself hard and fast. He fought the frustration with pathetic desperation. You appeared in his mind again.

Like a fetish. He could not get rid of his thoughts of you. A fixation. An obsession.

Rusty tightened the grip on his cock. The panties got bunched up at the base, caressing his sack deliciously while he focused on his leaking tip. His breath came in short gasps. He felt so close.

His balls tightened, his orgasm imminent. He propped himself up a bit on the tip of his toes. Just high enough. Quick strokes. Tight quick strokes.

Would you jerk him off this way if he begged you to? Did you even think about jerking him off? Or would you tell him to go fuck himself?

He groaned, he fought the urge to close his eyes so he could aim at the towel.

Did you ever think about the two of you fucking? On his desk. Against the wall. On the floor. He did. He thought about it many times. A fixation. An obsession.

"Fuck yes!" He cried out when he spilled all over the towel. His entire body tensed up. Ropes of white cum painted the navy blue towel. It felt so good to cum for you. It would feel even better to cum inside of you.

He slowed the movements of his hand and squeezed the remaining of his release on the cumrag. He set his feet flat again, his chest heaved while he panted.

For a moment, a moment that did not last long enough, his mind seemed blank. No imagery, no thought. A void. It was peaceful, but volatile.

He opened the door of the washing machine and threw in his cumrag and Barbara's underwear after he wiped his cock clean with them. He added the rest of the dirty laundry and poured a generous amount of detergent with the hope it would wash away what happened.

Rusty noticed a spurt of his cum squirted on the counter top. He grabbed the small tissue box and wiped it clean. He shook his head, unsatisfied. He rummaged through the cabinet and found cleaning wipes. He dragged the wipe over the counter with force until it started to tear up.

He looked out at the window. Rained poured outside, the clouds looked menacing. A bad omen.

Later, he would tell himself this was inoffensive. He could be very convincing, very persuasive. He would make himself believe this was not harmful. He used Barbara's panties. He finished on a cumrag. How could it be harmful if he did not even touch you?

He never touched you. He needed to touch you.

He would fixate on you. He would obsess over you until you granted him the privilege to touch you.

*~*~*

Exactly a week after the incident, you returned to the office with Raymond. He handed you a box, the type of boxes they used to store files. He had already found you another place to work in a less anxiety inducing setting. He reassured you that your departure would not inconvenient you in the future. He also mumbled something about how he would like to have a word with Fuck-Thing One and Fuck-Thing Two. You figured who carried these endearing pet names.

Rusty came into work every morning this week with the hope of bumping into you. Nobody had warned him about how you had been strongly advised to quit. He could tell Raymond was grumpy and Tommy was annoyed. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You leaned the box on your hip and put in the few belongings you had brought to Raymond's office. A set of highlighters with two missing colours, a box of cookies that only had a sleeve left in it, a pad of sticky notes with a smiley face scribbled on it. It felt as though you had never even walked up those infamous stairs in front of the building. You assumed everyone would forget about your short employment, like you had never worked here at all. You gave the stuffy room one last look before you closed the door behind you.

There was nothing out of the ordinary except for the knock on his door during lunch break despite it being wide open. "Come in." He invited you after you waited patiently outside. A patience he could not reciprocate. Not around you.

"Hi, Sir." You took a couple of steps in his office while the man leaned back on his chair, spinning slowly from left to right.

"Screw that." He brushed the formalities away with his hand. "No Sir or Mister with me. Didn't I tell you this on your first day?"

And on your last day too.

His eyes glanced from your beautiful face to what you carried in your arms. "Box full of stuff. That's bad news." Rusty's enthusiastic smile faded. He had waited so long to see you and now you were going away. Bad news indeed.

"Bad? Depends for who." You chuckled dryly. "I'm happy to get away from him."

Rusty nodded, acknowledging what you referred to. "Office gossip. It goes around." You arched a curious brow. "Rumour has it he's not happy."

You laughed, this time more genuinely. You looked at the content of the box, remembering what you came here for. You set the box down on a chair across Rusty's desk and you pulled out the stapler he asked for the other day. "Better late than never."

He stretched an arm across his desk to grab it, his fingers brushed against yours. He wondered if you felt the shock that went through his hand when your skin touched his. Sparks? Probably just static electricity. Rusty tilted his head back to look at you.

"I didn't come here for the stapler... Ray definitely stole it. He always steals things. He says it's endearing, it means he loves you. In my opinion, he probably thinks everything is free real estate." You reacted to your own amusing comment.

Oh how Rusty loved the sound of your laughter. Tommy would be jealous of him if he knew how many times he heard it, how many times he made you laugh.

"You've been working with Ray for how long?" Rusty opened his mouth to tell you the number of years, but you cut him off. "A hundred years or something? And you didn't know that! Wow." You clicked your tongue, mocking him like you truly disapproved of his ignorance.

His smirk turned into a frown of confusion when you quickly switched the topic.

"I came here to apologize for lashing out at you the other day. I was yelling at Tommy, not you. But yeah, I just wanted to say sorry. And goodbye."

"Don't even worry about it." He held his hands on his thighs. "I figured you weren't talk to me. One way or another... You would have ended up telling me to fuck off anyway."

You reacted to his words, squinting your eyes while trying to figure out what he meant. While Tommy had been nothing but a pain in the ass, Rusty revealed himself as one of the nicest people you met in the office. He brought you a cup of coffee, remembered how you preferred it. He paid for yours and Raymond's lunches so he could tag along. You smiled to yourself, remembering your stressful first day and the way it took the two of you to fix the printer by getting a scrunched sheet of paper unstuck.

Rusty caught that small smile of yours and he mirrored your expression. Silence lingered in the office one moment too long. His gaze lingered on you one moment too long as well. He swallowed thickly and fixed his tie back in his vest.

"Well..." You put the lid on the almost empty box and picked it up. You turned on your heels and headed in direction of the glass door.

Rusty was not ready to watch you leave just yet. "Got anything lined up? I can write you good references if you need. Whatever you need." His voice dropped to a whisper with the last three words.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine, but I appreciate the offer." You explained what Raymond did, The old man called up a few connections, offering a round of beers at the bar as a thank you for the special treatment. "Although I'll have to work on my language, or so I've been told." You rolled your eyes playfully.

Rusty did not understand why it had been such an issue. He would have lost his job a long time ago on the basis of telling people to fuck off one too many times.

"Whatever that new place is, I'm just happy that it's Tommy Molto-free."

"I'll... We. I mean we'll miss having you around!" Rusty slipped up, his nostrils flaring while he inhaled deeply to try and dissipate the potential awkwardness.

You answered that you had a good time, that you appreciated his help. It felt so good to hear these words of praise from you.

"You know, after a while... I'm sure you'll end up missing Tommy too."

You basically cackled at his words, now stepping out of the glass door. "Oh, fuck you, Rusty."

"Fuck me?" He raised his voice so you could hear him loud and clear.

You remained immobile to let him finish.

"Is that a threat?" He pulled his glasses off in one swift motion and let them fall on his desk covered in scattered papers. "Or a promise?"

[aritsukemo]

Heyyy! I hope the requests are open and im not putting too much work on your shoulders...

Anyways, this is my first ever time requesting... ANYTHING at all so i hope this is a not-so-hard or something that i shouldn't request (if not or you just don't feel like doing this request do NOT respond/do this request. I don't want to cause you burnouts or anything...)

Okay.. so...

May i request OMORI main gang x reader (all separate ofc) how long did it take for them to get comfortable around their s/o fully and how do they act in the developed relationship?

Thank you for your time! ^^

How long would it take the Omori Gang to become comfortable with their s/o? Well..

( @weed-stoner )

Warnings: Spoilers ahead! ( Implied in others and blatantly stated in Aubrey's part )

A/N: I AM SOOOOO INCREDIBLY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! I started this shortly after you requested it but then things happened and I had a little dry spout with Omori and forgot about it completely. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this! ( And again, I am SOOO sorry, love! 😅)

I'd say, based on their level of openness, the ranking of how quickly they'd become comfortable with their significant other would look something like this..

Kel

Mari

Hero

Aubrey

Sunny

Basil

And here's why..

Kel is the type of person who can vibe with anyone as long as they aren't a horrible person. ( Or act like Mikhael. Even then there's a chance. )

I'd say give it maybe a couple weeks? He's never been in any kind of relationship like this one so he may act a little different than usual for a while. Once that's over though, he's pretty much the same eager ball of sunshine! He'll always want to nag them to come out and enjoy the world with him and will do everything in his power to be around them! After all, it's way more fun hanging with them than being at home..

Now this can be up for debate, but I think Mari wouldn't take long at all to grow comfortable with her significant other. In her opinion, communication and trust are key parts to any lasting relationship so she doesn't mind coming to you when she's a little bothered by things. ( Which happens more times than one may think )

I see her taking maybe around a few months ( like three to four ) before completely letting the person in. It's nothing personal, she just wants to gauge their personality and see whether or not this relationship will be able to last.

Now, Mari doesn't act much different when she's comfortable with people. Subtle things do change though. For example, her smile seems more relaxed and she gets less upset when making mistakes around that person. Their presence soothes her and as a result, she's less uptight around them.

For Hero, it really depends on when he got into the relationship. If it was before his relationship with Mari, which is not likely, he's not that much different to Kel. He'll spend a lot time with the person and pretty much tell them anything and everything. If it's after his relationship with Mari, which is more likely, it'll be much different.

You see, Hero has experienced heartbreak in one of the worst possible ways and it'll take time for him to heal. That being said, I really don't see him dating anyone until that happens, but let's say that he does. Realistically, it take quite some time which can vary from a few months to a year to way longer than that.

Now, Hero is still Hero so he'll treat whoever he dates with the kindness and respect that they deserve and will do everything he can to make sure they're happy and healthy, ( both physically and mentally ) however when it comes to verbalizing his own emotions, that's where we hit a nail. Whoever he dates would have to be very patient with him otherwise it may cause him to put even more walls up.

When he's finally comfortable around them, it'll show. He'll start telling them things he wouldn't before and'll even rant to them about his problems occasionally. He'll be way more open with his partner and'll be just a tad bit ( a lot ) more clingy than he used to.

Aubrey is a rather tough cookie. Ever since Mari died and everyone distanced themselves, forcing her to cope with everything alone, she has never truly let her walls down in front of others. And, if someone attempted to break down those walls, she'll grow defensive and even violent towards that person.

How long it would take Aubrey to even be comfortable enough to date someone really depends on the personality. Like, I see her letting her guard down quicker if the person is more kind and patient with her like Mari rather than someone's who's short-tempered or rough around the edges like her.

When Aubrey is comfortable around her significant other, she'll be less afraid to tell them how she feels. She'll vent to them, but because of that, she'll be more shy towards them. Aubrey'll also hold that person in higher regard than others and'll hold them close to her heart. When they scold her, she actually listens and tries to do better. If they're upset, she'll be the first to notice and'll be there to listen to them rant/help them out in any possible way. And, she'll always try to make sure that her little fights and other violent affairs never mesh and disturb the person's daily life. In a way, she sees this relationship as a way to pay them back for putting up with her for so long so she'd pretty much do anything for that person.

Sunny's next and oh boy..

I honestly don't see him indulging in any kind of romance with anyone unless him and that person were like childhood friends—I'm talkin' never leaving each other's side, seen everywhere together type of close childhood friend with someone—and even then, it's hard to imagine post-traumatized him feeling comfortable around anyone besides his former friends, let alone a relationship. But for the sake of this, let's say he does..

I can't put a time limit on how long it'll take him simply because I see it depending on which ending we're talking about. Obviously if we're talking about any of the bad endings, he's pretty much a lost dead cause. He's not going to make any attempt to open up to them and no matter how much they may try, there will always be distance between them. Now, if we're talking about good ending Sunny, the person actually has a chance.

There will be a lot of trial and error simply because Sunny's used to keeping things bottled up. He's not used to being upfront and truthful and he's only used to running away and not facing his problems. That being said, I see the process quickening a bit if the person he's dating is super gentle and patient with him. If they just gave him time, and a tiny push here and there, he'll come around. And when he does, he'd be stuck to them like glue.

I feel like he'd make it known with his body when he's truly comfortable around his partner. Whether his shoulders noticeably slump in their presence or maybe he lets his guard down enough to hold you or lean on you. Just something that'll let the person know that he feels truly safe around them! I see him being sorta touch-hungry and expressing it once he's comfortable with that person by giving them a bunch of hugs and cuddles and such.

And hey, maybe he'll even talk! ( Nah I'm playing BAHAHA- )

Finally, we have our sweet boy Basil. The gardening genius that carries a ginormous bouquet of trauma wherever he goes..

It's easy to say that whether the person was his friend prior to the incident or not, it'll take forever for Basil to truly feel comfortable around them.

If they were his friend prior to the incident, well, it all really depends. Was he close ( closer than he was with the others ) with them before the incident occurred? Did they distance themself from the group like everyone else? Did they stick to him and never let him go? Depending on what the person does all depends on how long it'll take. To me, I definitely feel like Basil would spill everything eventually if the person decided to stick with him when everyone grew apart and, as a result, would become sort of this unhealthy lifeline to Basil. Since they'd be the one he confides in about everything, it would grow to the point that they'd be the one thing keeping him together. He'd be at their mercy, and in a way, they'd be at his and nothing would really change until probably after the truth comes out ( if it were to come out ) and Basil got the proper help he needs.

If they weren't his friend before the incident, good luck. They'd be lucky enough to even get a full conversation from him, much less get him to be their friend and harbor any kind of romantic feelings for them. But let's say that is the case. Let's say that through some stroke of luck they managed to befriend Basil and eventually end up in a relationship with him. The person is going to have to put up with a lot. Basil is a very sensitive person and all it takes is one bad interaction for him to completely shut them out. They'd have to tread very lightly ( but not too lightly; if they don't try enough, the relationship's not getting anywhere ) or else they'll end up back at square one. I see this taking years ( specifically four or more ) and really, I only see him completely growing comfortable with the person after some extensive therapy.

When he's finally, fully comfortable with them, he'll be way more verbal and open. The fear of being rejected/judged would've been less apparent and slowly pushed to the back of his mind. Being with them for so long, ( and having gotten at least some bit of therapy since I literally don't see this happening otherwise ) he's grown to trust them to some extent. He's also grown to love rambling to them about whatever's on his mind. Whether that be about flowers or things much darker. I see him craving their touch and he wouldn't mind asking. ( But not too many times, he's still Basil after all ) I see those two spending so much time together that Polly would see them as an extension of the household. ( She'd fix them dinner every evening and would grow concerned if they didn't show up to get it and say hey to Basil. That's how much they'd be together. )

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[theemporium]

Can I please request a 🐈‍⬛ blurb? Maybe something where (literally any f1 boyfriend(s)) and you do something like go to a haunted house or watch a scary movie or something and he tries to be super chill about it but ends up terrified, hiding behind you while you’re just teasing him laughing about it

If not that’s totally okay, thank you for all of the blurbs anyways, they’re so cute! 💞

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do when he suggested a horror movie night. 

He had been so nonchalant and casual with the suggestion when he proposed it to you over dinner. On the weeks Charles wasn’t travelling around the world, he liked to spend time with you. And in a lifestyle that was so fast-paced and chaotic, a lot of the dates the two of you shared were mundane and simple and bordering so far into normal, it probably seemed boring to people looking in from the outside.

A common occurrence was movie date nights. You loved them. Charles loved them. You would switch between who would choose the movies and it led to some of the most wholesome, sweetest date nights shared between you. 

But if there was one genre Charles always avoided, it was horror. There hadn’t been many occasions of either of you jumping to choose a thriller or scary movie, but Charles always picked a comedy or an action movie. It was a fact you could always rely on. 

Until tonight.

“Really?” You asked, your brows furrowing together. “You want to watch a scary movie?”

Charles smiled. “Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” You questioned.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, cherie,” he mused, shaking his head as he reached over to take your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Because in Charles’ head, he knew exactly how this night would play out. You two would sit on the couch, sharing a blanket when the movie would start. It would start to get scary and you would gravitate towards his side. And as the scenes continued, you’d be nestled into his lap where you would probably spend the rest of the night clinging onto him. 

What Charles failed to take into consideration was the fact the movie would actually be scary.

“You good over there?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve been really quiet.”

“Just enjoying the movie, mon amour.” 

You let out a snort, trying to cover your mouth to muffle the noise but it was hard to do. The boy was as stiff as a board, practically digging his nails into the couch as he fought to keep his eyes on the screen. You could have sworn you could hear his heart beating in his chest from across the couch. But as much as you wanted to help him, the sight of him trying to play everything off was far more entertaining than any movie ever could be.

Charles lasted another ten minutes before a particularly bad jump scare had him scrambling across the couch, your body pulled onto his lap and his face pressed against your back as he tried to ignore the fact his whole body was shaking.

You couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh, your hands holding onto his arms as his grip on you tightened. 

“Charles!”

“Turn it off! Turn the stupid thing off!” 

“It’s not finished—”

“Please, mon amour.”

You listened as you reached for the tv remote, switching the movie off. Though, it didn’t stop the giggles you were no longer bothering to hide or the massive grin on your face as you twisted around on his lap so you could see him.

“Shut up,” Charles grumbled, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he tried to hide his face in your neck but you didn’t let him.

“Aww, it’s cute,” you assured him, biting back your grin as you pecked his lips. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll protect you.” 

“You’re evil.”

“And you’re a scaredy-cat.” 

“We are never watching a horror movie again.”

.

[kedreeva]

This might be an odd thing to ask but my friend just had to do their first cull (quail) and is feeling a little freaked out by it still. Do you maybe have any advice for like, coping with that?

I'll put this under a cut, since it involves animal death

I guess it depends on what they are freaking out about, the physical sensation of any part of it (for instance, if they did a butcher job to use the meat, instead of a euthanasia job for burial or something) or the empathy part of it (taking a life personally).

If it's the former, rub your (general you) hands on some kind of rough surface (like a bristle brush/dish scrub brush), trim your nails short, and take a long, hot shower, and light a smelly candle. It won't particularly stop you from thinking about it, but it will make sure that the actual physical stimuli that remind you (ghost sensations on nerves, any remaining scent of blood or offal or dander, sound) get pushed back in memory behind the new sensations and/or removed.

The empathy part is harder, and there's just not a lot you (again, general you) can do about it, and I think that's okay, actually. It SHOULD freak you out the first time you take a life, and it should freak you out a little every time after that, because it gives weight to this action that this action wholly deserves. You are ending a life that you were responsible for starting, and that's heavy and deserves respect. This is the reality of breeding and raising animals for use, and at the end of the day, your friend will have to sit with that, and decide if they're okay with it if they want to keep doing it. There's no shortcut in this matter.

Some of the things I do made it easier to come to terms with for me. The first is to do my best to produce animals that WILL have a use (as opposed to producing just to produce and not having a plan for what to do with them), and the second is to use as much of what you produce as possible. For me, this means either selling the birds to others for use, or using the meat/bones myself and giving the rest back to nature (usually my crows come and eat offal the same day I do butchering). I find it easier to handle if I set the expectation from the start that a bird will be a use animal not a pet animal (ie, food or eggs or whatever that I intend to invest time and care into, compared to a companion I would emotionally invest in as well)- being able to compartmentalize this distinction is essential, and there are also going to be times when you have to make the sucky decision to end an animal you got emotionally invested in anyway (illness, injury, old age, behavioral changes, etc) because you're human and that's what we often do. I'm also more comfortable culling if I know the animal will have/has had a quality life (both because the meat will be better and because they deserve it). Lastly, it helps to remind myself that I produce some animals for a purpose and when I cull they are either fulfilling that purpose (used by me/others) or they are incapable of fulfilling that purpose (free to go to others/rest). Keeping them longer than that is, imo, a disservice to them.

I'm sorry there's not an easy fix-it. I hope that your friend is able to recover and keep raising quail, if they enjoy the rest of it.

[abiiors]

silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader

a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe. i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/ cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour wc: 2.2k

american fans are loud. 

well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world. 

girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent. 

all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much. 

still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest. 

today, however, you skew more towards annoyance. 

he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get. 

but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth. 

ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white. 

it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you. 

“what’s up with you?”

you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”

“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.

you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it. 

“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”

“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries. 

“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips. 

ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”

and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.

ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective. 

he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another. 

his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing. 

you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look. 

look what you to do me. 

he sends one back. 

busy. not now.

so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony. 

“come share a fag with me.”

you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again. 

“well?”

“sure.”

it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween. 

the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory. 

“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind. 

ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow. 

“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”

“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“is that so?” 

he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”

“no.”

“no?”

you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.

“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”

“what silent treatment?”

“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”

every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him. 

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”

“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass. 

you yelp when he pinches the skin. 

“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”

and now you finally have him where you want. 

“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress. 

this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs. 

“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”

you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare. 

his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black. 

“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you. 

“please what?”

“please make me cum.”

your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him. 

the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch. 

“no silent treatment anymore?”

“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”

“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”

“w-what?”

“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”

“no. no!”

“then be quiet for me.”

easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping. 

“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”

the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.

“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt. 

“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”

“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”

the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.

“please!”

“no.”

and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong. 

“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”

“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”

“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”

“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin. 

your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once. 

“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”

all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright. 

you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you. 

minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick. 

“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms. 

“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”

“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds. 

“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.” 

and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

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[mjlovescm]

Illicit affairs, Spencer Reid

Very old Spencer oneshot inspired by "Illicit affairs" by Taylor Swift.

“Meet me outside in seven minutes. We need to end this now.”

As you read the text, you could feel your stomach turning. 

“We need to end this now.”

We, huh? He ended it months ago, so what could he possibly need to talk about. You walk to the gift table and drop your present off. Perfume and cologne. The same ones they wore the first day they met each other. No name signed on that part would hurt too much. 

You asked Spencer so you could be exact about what you planned to buy. It's a simple gift, really, but it's the thought that counts. It's sweet with sentimental value. The perfect gift for the perfect couple. The perfect girlfriend and boyfriend, soon to be the perfect husband and wife. 

With the gift gone, you walked towards the exit before being stopped by a worried Penelope. 

“Y/n have you seen Spencer ?” Your heart drops. “We want to start soon, and the guests are getting anxious.”

You panicked not knowing what to say so you shake your head instead. You were flustered, your face warm in anticipation.

Of course, everyone is anxious. No one wants the groom to be missing on the wedding day. Everyone's looking for him, and he's waiting for you outside. You felt disgusted with yourself. Guilt was written all over your face. And soon tears would be too. 

Scanning the parking lot, the only person you could see was a tall man in a large dark coat. You almost didn't want it to be him. 

It had been ages since you and Spencer spoke one on one, and you knew this would be just like the last time. He'll tell you it's over, the best thing to do now is to move on. But maybe this time would be different, maybe this time you would say what needed to be said. Maybe this time you'll be the one he wants…

The man turns around, revealing himself, his face covered by the hood on the coat. You smiled seeing him again, all dressed up with his long brown hair gelled back and the bowline glasses that fit his face perfectly. You opened your arms for a hug, any sort of embrace from him. Instead of doing the same, Spencer roughly grabbed you by your arm, pushing you against a car behind him. Making sure no one could see you. 

This isn't the time or place to make a scene. 

“Why are you here?” He barked.

“What no hi, hello you good y/n.” you attempted to lighten the situation. 

Clearly you failed. 

“Answer the question,” he demanded. 

From this angle you could see his face fully, it was lit up by the moon. Being pressed against the car brought back memories. Memories of him and you, but his face lit by candles, and you were pressed against his bed. Naked. 

“Are you gonna answer or not?”

“Surprisingly, I was invited by the bride, Ms. Jennifer Jareau. Well, soon to be Jennifer Reid, but I highly doubt she'll take your last name.” 

The tension and anger is visible not just on his face, but also in the way he was holding you. His nails digging into your skin, you still pressed to the car. The only time he was as you was when you threatened to tell her about your relationship. If you could really ever call it that. 

“Fine. Then why did you show up.” he hissed.

He lets go of you, he knows remaining calm was the best thing to do. He wouldn't ever hurt you, at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. 

“Why wouldn't I show up? My friends are getting married.” 

You state the obvious.

“You know why you shouldn't show you. We've been over this y/n, it was a lap in my judgment, JJ and I were having issues, and you comforted me when things escalated.”

“A lapse in judgment for almost half a year.” you yelled, pain cracking your voice.

His hands flew over your mouth and Spencer silenced you. 

“Y/n, JJ is my best friend, okay she means the world to me. I'm sorry I no longer think about us the same way you do, but the fact is… I am marrying the love of my life today.” He speaks slow and careful, praying you understand. “You telling her we slept together for a few months would break her trust in me, in our relationship, in your friendship with her, but most importantly, it would break her.”

It would. It would absolutely shatter her, you couldn't care less what happens to Spencer in the end. But JJ, she deserves to be happy. She deserves the truth, right?

Spencer calms himself and takes a step away from you as you think. 

“Fine, I wasn't planning on telling her anything anyway. But I have to stay for the wedding.” you attempted to stand your ground. 

“No.” He demanded. “No, you have to leave. Coming here was one thing, but staying is something else.” 

You stood still, frozen in disbelief. He didn't trust you enough to stay.

How did everything crumple so fast ? How did he go from crying in my arms about how much he missed her to coldly forcing me away again ? You could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes. It soon became hard to breathe, but you hold yourself together. Crying in front of Spencer wasn't something you could do, not again. Not now.

“Promise me you won't have any more laps in your judgment, JJ doesn't deserve that, no one does.” 

As you began to walk away, you felt Spencer pull you back. His cold hands cup your face. He kisses you, forcing your face into his. His hands shake from the moment, from the cold, from you. Spencer pulled away from you with tears forming in his eyes. 

“I love you, y/n.” He whispers it, like the secret it is. “Thank you sincerely.”

He ran back towards the building at the speed of light. Leaving you in shock as you stood alone in the large, dark parking lot. That was the first time he'd said those words. 

You walked to your car freezing, your jacket left in the coat check. Silent, you sat in the car for a moment before releasing a large sad sigh. It felt like the first time you'd breathed in months. For too long, you were caught in Spencer's awful chokehold. Without your notice, tears streamed down your face as you looked at the building in your rearview mirror. 

You could stay sure, but what would be the point? 

This night was painful enough, JJ doesn't need that kind of hurt.

“She deserves happiness and he deserves her. No one else needs to get hurt tonight.” you repeat to yourself as you drive away.

Masterlist - mjlovescm "Flashing Lights" Spencer Reid x black fem stripper reader fic

[beesxrated]

A Day In

Another Halsin fic.🪻

Masterlist

Light pours through the trees waking you up. You groan and turn in the large arms around you, burring your face in his bare chest. He pulls you closer kissing the top of your head before he rolls and faces you as well. Halsin's lips meet yours in a long sleepy kiss before they continue to your cheek and your neck. His hands trace and caress every inch of your body as his lips and tongue caress the rest.

"We just woke up, Halsin." You mumble as his lips meet your stomach just above your waist.

You feel him chuckle against your skin, "You can tell me to stop if you want, love."

But you don't, you enjoy his touch and lips against your body as he slowly moves downward. His hands push you down onto your back and his mouth having almost reached what you desire most. Instead he raises himself up and kisses you again on the lips before pulling away and sitting up on the edge of the bed. You lay there frustrated.

"I have some things to get done, but after those I am all yours." He leans back and kisses you hard.

You sigh, voicing your frustrations, "How long will you be?"

"I do not know. I would say maybe an hour or two."

"I don't know if I can wait that long, Hals."

He smiles at you, "I will make it as fast as I can."

He gets up, dresses himself and leaves your space. You lay there in your frustration thinking of all of the ways to get him back for this. Playfully, you think of doing the same to him, but know you don't have the willpower to pull away from him like that. You doze off thinking about Halsin.

You awaken this time to shadow, eyes still closed you begin to wonder if you may have slept through the entire day. That fear is quickly squashed as lips meet yours, softly. You open your eyes and find Halsin starting to travel down your body again.

You surprise Halsin as you push him down onto his back, taking your time in kissing his body as he has done to you many times. He seems to enjoy it just as much as you do. His hands slide into your hair tugging as you nip at his hips. You look up for just a moment to see his eyes closed and seemingly enjoying every touch. You tease him, kissing and touching all around the throbbing bit of his pleasure.

He groans as you finally take it into your mouth. His hands grip the roots of your hair pushing further into you. His body starts to shake as you work on him. You notice how much he is enjoying this and regret not doing it sooner. He's always been a giver and never complained, and now you also like being a giver.

Haslin tries to get out your name, but shudders every time you change up what your doing even a small amount. Noticing this you release him and he immediately flips you around on him. His mouth on your pleasure and yours on his. You start to lose focus as he grips your hips keeping you in place, refusing to let you move as he finishes you off.

Once he's finished with you he pushes you back into the bed on your back. His hands massage you as he continues with his mouth for a minute longer before he shifts himself up onto his elbows. Halsin almost growls, something you'd never heard him do before, as he pushes himself into you. You realize you have become louder now than you ever had before, your throat starts to feel scratchy as you groan his name.

You have lost all sense of yourself as he forgets his previously soft and slow motions you were used to. He thrusts harder than you'd ever thought he could before. He seems almost feral as his teeth find your neck and he growls again. Your nails scrape up his back and into his hair gaining a deep, heavy moan from him. Halsin brings his head next to yours as he reaches ecstasy, letting out a low grumble. His trusts become slow and shallow as you feel him finish. As he pulls himself from you he lets out a huff, and falls next to you.

Your body shakes as it tries to regulate the emotion and pleasure coursing through your body. Halsin lays his head on your chest, breathing heavily. His hands trace shapes or words on your stomach as you brush fingers through his hair.

"What are you tracing?" You ask when your throat stops stinging.

Halsin hums a bit, "Nothing, just letters."

"Does it say anything?" You ask trying to focus on the letters he could possibly be writing on your body.

"I love you." He says, "And promises in a language forgotten."

"What are you promising?"

"You will learn in time. For now, I want to lay with you."

[thefallennightmare]

Mercy-Four

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Fallen Angel!OC

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, smut, mythological talk, violence.

Summary: "Blinded by a fear of feeling, these are the kings we chose. Lost and looking for the meaning, I've been searching high and low" It came crashing down on him. This is the story of the highest banished angel from where she came only to find home in the arms of a mortal man. This mortal realizing he'd face Lucifer himself to keep her.

Lethia: Archangelus Oneironaut also known as Archangel of Dream Walking. Across worlds and dimensions, she walks within. Uncovering dangerous secrets, leaving her cast out, isolated- that is until she begins to learn what it means to feel.

Authors Notes: So I pulled a lot of ideas from my favorite fallen angel romance series, Hush Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick! I hope you all enjoy!

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @cookiesupplier @lyschko666 @shilohrosechicken @thebadchic @iknownothingpeople @sammyjoeee @malice-ov-mercy @collapsedglasshouses @klutzy-kay24 @iamamatus @lma1986 @bngurngheart @happi-goth

LETHIA

I sat in the middle of Noah’s bed with my knees pulled to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. My mind continued to replay the conversation with Maraxa and her parting words had been etched deep within my soul. I feared that maybe I brought darkness and death to not only Noah but all of his friends' lives. They were innocent bystanders in the battle for my alliance. Stay on this Earth with mortals or fall into the depths of Hell with the light bringer. 

Lucifer. He wanted me alongside him to lead his army of darkness. Against what? I wasn’t sure. But the love we shared wasn’t what it used to be and my heart didn't covet for him any longer. Not when there was someone else who seemed to have filtered into this newfound life without warning. 

Those almond eyes captivated me from the moment I had Noah pinned against the door. His scent was different from most mortals and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why. The way we always seemed to run into each other or that anytime I dream walked, it was his dream.  

Why was it Noah’s face I saw moments before my fall? 

Why did we have the same tattoo? His on his neck, mine on my ribs? 

None of this made any sense and it only angered me more as to why I was stuck here. 

As I was staring at the length of my black nails, there was a gentle knock on the door of the bedroom; me humming in response to it. When it opened slightly, Noah poked his head in, the long strands of his hair falling into his face. 

“Hey,” his voice was gentle. “I’m just checking to see if you’re settling in fine.” 

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m sorry for having Maraxa show up here. I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

You don’t know that. 

Noah leaned against the wall next to the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s alright. Is she an old friend?” 

I scoffed while laying my legs straight on the bed to lean my back against the wall. 

“She is far from a friend. More like an acquaintance that always wanted my position.” 

If he could hear the venom in my voice, Noah said nothing and simply nodded. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked instead. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” I ran a hand over the black comforter. “I must say, I do feel terrible making you sleep on the couch when your bed is quite comfortable.” 

“Seriously?” Noah chuckled while walking farther into the room to sit on the bed next to me. “I’ve had this mattress for years and it's anything but comfortable.” 

An eerie silence fell between us, something that made me shift in my spot next to him when the warmth from him radiated around me in flames. I could feel his essence all over my skin while not feeling his actual touch. Bumps rose at the back of my neck when I felt his gaze linger there, lighting me a blaze. 

My eyes caught sight of something hanging from above his window so I pointed to it. 

“Are you religious? The rosary?”

Noah peered up at the wooden necklace hanging from his curtain rod. “Oh, that. It’s kind of a long story.” 

Crossing my legs, I rested my elbow on my thigh to rest my chin in my hand. “And I have time. I’d love to know your view on it.” 

With a tender laugh, he nodded before turning toward me so we sat facing each other. “Well, I was raised in a very Christian Baptist household with my grandparents; when I wasn’t staying with my mom. That's another story but it’s not important.” 

Immediately I picked up on the way his eyes cast down at his hands at the mention of his mother but made no effort to acknowledge it. Instead, I urged him to continue with a nod. 

“I’d go to service with my grandparents and help out in the church any way I could. Painting, setting up for service, things like that. I was exposed to a lot of religion growing even though when I was younger I didn’t buy into it as much. Despite having a lot of questions and doubts about it now, I still think there’s a lot to learn about it through religion, spirituality, and faith. Which is why I write about it metaphorically.” 

He ran a hand over his chin for a moment. “I never try to push my own beliefs or agendas on people. I want people to think and believe in things on their own, without having my choice influence them in any way.” 

“I think that’s marvelous,” I hummed. 

Noah smiled. “The whole lore and stories in religion really interest me. I’m currently reading a book about The Fall.”

My mouth ran dry when my body went rigid. “Th-the Fall?” 

“Yeah, fallen angels. It’s actually quite interesting.” 

I ran my hands over my thigh and cleared my throat. “Do you believe in them?” 

“Angels?” Noah asked with furrowed brows. 

All I could do was nod, afraid that my voice would give way to how nervous I was for his answer. 

He ran a hand over his mouth, almost deep in thought. “It’s hard to give a definitive answer because I haven’t seen proof of angels. I thought that angels didn’t exist at first but something changed my view on it. My grandma told me a story about fallen angels when I was younger. What about you? Do you believe it?” 

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen,” the tone of my voice dropped drastically as my fingers brushed along the softness of the comforter beneath me. 

Flash images of what I’d done under the King’s command plagued me. Death by my sword was ordered to anyone who disobeyed him. Which rarely happened but when it did, I was the one that dealt with the end of the traitor's life. The familiar feeling of ripping out their wings weighed heavy on my hands as I stared down at them with sheer disgust. 

How could the creator who was supposed to love all of us equally order me to do such vile, horrendous, things to his creations? 

“Lethia,” the softness of his large hands rested on my shoulder, fresh off a kill. “You’ve done well my child. Your allegiance is greatly thought of.”  

My jaw clenched at how foolish I’d been. Following a King who cared so little for us in the end. The amount of wings I ripped out was too much to count. The amount of angels I dragged my blade into cut deep into my gut, causing me to revolt in disgust. 

At myself. 

Since I fell weeks ago, I questioned so deeply why my appearance changed and I always thought it was because of my love for Lucifer. But it could be to pay for all of my heinous crimes up in the Kingdom. Crimes ordered by Him. 

“Hey,” Noah’s tattooed knuckle lifted my chin. “Are you alright?” 

I nearly sobbed when yet again I couldn’t feel his touch; another repercussion. 

“No,” I choked out. “I did horrible things back home and how could I ever be allowed back? Why would he want me back?” 

The screams of my victims were loud in my mind, their bloody wings lying at my feet, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the vision. 

“You don’t have to go back there. You can stay here with me. Whatever you did can’t be that terrible,” his voice cooed in the silence of his bedroom. 

The words died on my tongue, it not being worth it to explain myself to him because Noah wouldn’t understand. 

My heart's racing faltered for the briefest of moments, only for it to double in pace when Noah’s eyes studied me, assessing every inch of my face. I tracked every movement of his tongue when it darted out to wet his pink lips. 

“Lethia.” 

My name was all but a hushed whisper that hung on his bottom lip and when our eyes met, some kind of light danced behind his. I raised my fingers to his mouth to drag the nail of my pointer finger along that bottom lip. Noah’s breath hitched in his throat but remained still as I glanced up at him, dying to know what it would feel like. Facial hair peppered his chin and above his mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked. 

There was no way he wasn't like me. Noah was too eternal, the aura that radiated around him shone bright and pulled me in every time he was around. 

The long locks of his hair fell into his face when he tilted his head towards me, closing the distance slightly. The divine scent of him filled my senses and I let my eyes flutter shut to pick apart each of the different smells. Noah smelled woodsy with a hint of Bergamot and Nutmeg. It smelled like his bedroom. It smelled like him. 

“Noah,” I breathed, now dragging my nails over the tattoo on his neck. 

I couldn't feel his touch but I did notice my hair being brushed away from my face. 

“I can’t explain it,” Noah swallowed. “But I feel this strong connection to you.” 

All of my actions were unknown to me, along with this feeling in my chest that burned with such a good ache. Noah silenced all of the voices in my mind, easing away the guilt and hurt that weighed heavily on my heart for my actions in the Kingdom. I was resistant at first with him but I think it was only because this feeling deep inside of me scared me to the ends of the earth. 

“Me as well,” I admitted quietly. 

My hands rested in my lap now, shaking with nerves, wondering what Noah was going to do. We were so close now, with almost no space between our lips, and before my brain could catch up on what was happening a sudden surge of warmth exploded inside of me before seeping into my veins. My skin pricked with electricity when Noah’s hand glided through my hair and it was then that I noticed his eyes were closed but his lips were on mine. 

He was kissing me? 

Fuck. 

I nearly cried and cursed the King for bestowing me with this curse of not being able to feel human touch. All I wanted was to feel Noah’s lips on mine, taste him, devour him. Although I couldn’t feel him, the feeling that was coming alive inside of me was almost too much to handle and I let a quiet moan be swallowed by Noah, who hummed in delight. 

It felt like fireworks being shot off inside of me. It felt like that first flight I took when I realized my wings kept me upright. It felt like the wind blew through my hair and the softness of the clouds encased me just as Noah’s arm did. 

Something spread my lips apart and now all I could feel was the sudden wetness in my mouth and between my legs. I clenched them together while grasping at Noah’s shirt, trying to feel anything. 

He pulled away to glance down at me, briefly searching my eyes for any emotion I couldn’t give off in the kiss we just shared. 

“I mean this with genuine curiosity but have you never been kissed before?” Noah wondered while his hand cupped my cheek. 

I shifted on his bed and kept my gaze cast down on my lap. While I lay with other angels up in the Kingdom, we’d never kissed; Noah was my first kiss, ever. 

“Lethia?” 

“I-,” my shoulders slumped. “No. Was I that bad?” 

Now while I couldn’t feel his touch, that didn’t stop me from meeting his kiss with the same amount of gentle caress that he led with. 

A low noise rumbled in Noah’s chest. “Not at all. I’d actually like to kiss you again if that’s alright?” 

Unbridled heat expanded deep within me as I nodded quickly and then his lips were on mine again. I let the passion in my heart guide my lips, doing my best to mimic Noah’s actions, and he let out a moan when I climbed into his lap to run my hands through the waves of his tawny hair. Even if I couldn’t feel any part of this physically, I could feel it in my heart, and to me, that’s all that mattered. 

“Lethia,” Noah groaned when I pressed my hips into his. 

Something in my heart told me that he was brushing his tongue along the side of my neck before his teeth grazed over in its path. That same feeling told me that Noah’s hands were sprawled over my lower back before slipping underneath my shirt to claw at my skin, digging his nails in. 

My spine tingled with fire, starting from the base and shooting straight up into my neck before spreading through my entire angel essence. My head fell back as my jaw went slack when the familiar feeling of ecstasy crept its way into me.

Only this wasn’t the kind of ecstasy brought on by a man's kiss or touch.

No. 

The skin on my shoulder blades began to peel away an opening for my wings to protrude from and with a gasp of fear, I scrambled away from Noah and nearly stumbled over my feet as I stood in front of him. He lay back on his elbows, hair a mess from my fingers running through it, and lips were swollen from our kiss. The rise and fall of his chest was uneven as he tried to catch his breath. I dared a glance lower and sucked in a breath when I noticed how hard his cock was in his gray sweats. 

“Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?” Noah asked while rising to his feet and taking a step towards me. 

I took a step back. “No, you didn’t do anything. I-I can’t explain it but-.” 

How could I explain it? 

Oh hey, Noah. I was getting so turned on by our kiss that my wings almost came out.

Yeah right. 

I dragged my hands through my hair and let out an aggravated groan to which Noah gently grasped my wrists and held them against his chest. My gaze bounced back and forth between his eyes, my erratic heartbeat calming. 

“If I went too far, I apologize,” he said. 

“No,” I hastily shook my head. “You didn’t do anything. I just needed a moment to clear my head, that's all.”  

He hummed. “I know the perfect thing to help with that.” 

Before dropping my hands, he left a gentle kiss on them, and I couldn’t stop the smile that spread to my lips as I watched him gather the extra clothes on his desk and towels.

“A shower always helps me clear my head,” Noah said while leading me out of his bedroom. 

“A shower?” I asked, slowly treading behind him. 

“Yeah,” he nodded as we stepped inside the bathroom. “Hot Water. Soap. Shampoo.”

“Naked. I know the drill,” I crossed my arms over my chest with a raised brow. “Are you trying to get me naked, Noah?” 

Nervously he rubbed the back of his neck and a red tint painted over his cheeks. “N-no. I just want to help you.” 

I took the things in his hands with a nod of thanks. “You’ve already done enough for me. Giving me a place to stay.” 

The space between us was small in his bathroom due to his tall stature and he gazed down at me with a slight up curl of his lips as he stuffed his hands in his pocket. 

“I help the people I care about.” 

I cocked my head at him. “You care about me?” 

This word, care, was foreign to me; unheard of in the Kingdom. So to hear Noah utter it made a weird feeling stir inside of me. 

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t,” Noah’s voice was low as he took a small step towards me. 

However, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I nearly dropped the clothes and towels. I always tried to avoid looking at myself because of how evil I looked. My red eyes matched the red lights from under Noah’s bed and my short onyx hair barely reached my shoulders. Thankfully my jacket and jeans covered the tattoos that were drawn on my skin; etched in deep with my transgressions. 

I despised how I looked now. Revolted in the darkness that I become. 

“I never used to look like this,” I admitted with a long sigh, letting the things in my hands fall to the bathroom counter. 

Noah stepped behind me to stare at my reflection in the mirror. “Really?” 

“This look?” I pointed to my reflection. “It’s a telling of everything wrong I’ve done. I can’t even look at myself without disgust.” 

His face fell at my words and he rested his hands on my shoulders. “Lethia, that’s the farthest thing from the truth. You look beautiful.” 

That was another word I hadn’t heard before. 

“Beautiful?” I raised a brow, staring at his reflection still. 

Noah rested his chin on top of my head and I couldn’t help but giggle at the size difference between us. I wasn’t exactly short but with Noah’s length, he easily towered over me so to rest his chin on my head he had to bend down a bit, encasing his arms on either side of me to grip the bathroom counter. 

My eyes raked over the tattoos that covered the entirety of his arms, various designs and colors. 

“Well for starters, the length of your hair suits your face structure and the color compliments your olive skin tone,” he left a kiss on the side of my head. 

“I used to have long, almost white hair,” I said. 

“Oh,” his face scrunched up. 

“You don’t like it?” I teased with a chuckle. 

Noah shrugged. “You look beautiful either way but like I said this look suits you better.” 

His hands grabbed the collar of my jacket to slowly pull it down my arms, letting it fall to the floor at our feet. I now stood in front of him in my jeans and white shirt, arms exposed to show the darkness of the tattoos that covered them. 

“Your tattoos are made for you,” he breathed in my ear, fingers trailing up the skin of my arms. 

Our eyes locked in the mirror, the deep crimson of mine paled in contrast to his bright almond ones; however this time when I looked into them, they weren’t cold and vacant. Not like I’d see in my dreams. 

“Your eyes,” Noah breathed. “I think your eyes are one of my favorite things about you.” 

He brushed away the hair from my neck so he could press kisses along the skin there. I watched in the mirror as his teeth grazed over the shell of my ear before sinking deep into the crook of my neck. Straight heat shot through me again and I let myself fall into his embrace with a sigh that sounded more like a moan. 

“I’m afraid,” my bottom lip trembled as I cast my eyes down from his. 

Noah turned me in his arms so I had no choice but to look up at him. His eyes were filled with worry as they searched every inch of my face. I grasped at the front of his shirt, fingers trying desperately to feel the material. 

“Afraid of what? This?” He pointed between us. 

“No,” I shook my head and then let out a shaky breath. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.” 

Noah’s hands were on both sides of my face because he held me firm. Then when the light sparked inside of me, I knew that he crashed his lips on mine, tongue slipping inside of my mouth. Although I couldn’t feel his touch, the feeling I had deep inside of me was telling me everything he was doing. 

One hand cupped my cheek while the other slipped inside my shirt, grasping at the skin of my lower back. His lips and tongue explored every inch of my mouth, dragging his teeth along my jawline and neck as he went back to leaving small marks along my collarbone. 

His name came out just below a whisper when he lifted me onto the bathroom counter, digging his nails into the thick material of my jeans to spread my legs open for him. Noah stepped between them as I brought our lips together again in another fiery kiss, needing to bring Noah even closer to me by any means. 

“Lethia,” he murmured against my mouth. “I need-.” 

Just as the skin on my shoulders began peeling away, someone walked into the bathroom, causing Noah to jump away from me slightly. Glancing at the now open door, I noticed his roommate Jesse’s eyes bouncing between Noah and me. 

“Shit, I should have knocked,” he muttered while rubbing his face. “I just saw the door was cracked open and didn’t think.” 

I wiped away the saliva from my lips and turned my head away from the two men, feeling this unusual burn on my cheeks. 

“It’s alright,” Noah ran a hand through his hair, still keeping a wide distance between us. “I was just letting Lethia take a shower.” 

Jesse nodded. “Yeah sure, no problem. I’ll just use the bathroom downstairs.” 

When it was just Noah and me yet again, I peered over to him who was leaning against the wall with a wicked smirk. 

“What?” I asked with a slight up curl on my lips. 

He said nothing, only adjusting himself. I dared a glance downward and sucked in a breath when I noticed his cock pressing hard against the front of his sweats. All the warmth in my body shot down to my core and I squeezed my thighs together, hoping it would curb the itch.

How did this mortal seem to set all of my senses ablaze like this? 

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Noah motioned to the shower. 

As he began walking out of the bathroom, I dared a glance at the shower but tilted my head in confusion. 

“Wait,” I spoke while reaching for his wrist, my black nails grazing his skin. 

Both of us reacted with such a shock, nearly making me rear back in surprise. Noah’s eyes bounced from my hold on him to my face; a spark of something behind them. 

“How do I turn it on?” 

“The shower?” His brows creased. 

All I did was nod, some things on this planet still confused me but I didn’t want to tell him that. 

With a chuckle, Noah walked over to the shower, sliding the door open then turned the dial left. 

“Left is hot. The right is cold. Adjust how you need to. There’s already some shampoo and body wash in there for you,” he said when he stepped in front of me. 

Steam began to fill the bathroom, dancing above our heads like the clouds in the Kingdom. Reaching up on the tips of my toes, I laid a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“Thank you, Noah.” 

NOAH

I stifled a yawn behind my hand as I poured myself yet another cup of coffee, stirring the dark liquid as I leaned against the kitchen island. Craning my neck far to the left, I groaned when it popped in a few different places. Sleeping on the couch did a number on my back and neck but I didn’t want to verbalize my discomfort knowing that Lethia was comfortable upstairs in bed. 

Possibly naked, lying in my sheets. 

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I took a large gulp of my coffee, it slightly burning on the way down, when Jesse walked into the kitchen. His eyes raked over my disheveled hair and skewed clothes with a smirk. 

“Rough night?” 

I grumbled in response. 

“I’m sorry about interrupting you and Lethia last night,” Jesse apologized while reaching for a cup in the far right cupboard. 

“It’s alright,” I set my cup on the counter next to me. 

It seemed as if there was something on the tip of his tongue so I urged him to ask his question with a nod. 

“Are you sure you aren’t moving fast with her?” Jesse was hesitant to ask. “You don’t know a lot about Lethia?” 

Even though I was growing tired of the same conversation with my friends, I took a deep breath to ease away the annoyance. I knew they were only coming from a place of love. 

“It’s hard to explain,” I rubbed a hand up and down my arm. “We feel this strong connection between us and no matter how hard I tried to stay away, it seemed as if something kept pulling us together.” 

Jesse nodded with a faint smile. “She seems like a great girl, Noah. We just don’t want you to fall too deep and end up getting hurt.” 

I reassured him with a pat on his shoulder just as Jolly, Michael, and Orie came bounding into the kitchen, all of them going about to start their typical morning routine. It was a rare Saturday that we all had off so earlier in the week we talked about going for a hike today. 

“Still on for today?” Orie wondered. 

“Yeah,” I answered. 

Jolly took a sip of his coffee. “Did you ask if Lethia wanted to come?” 

My lips parted to speak but there was this tingle at the back of my neck, making the hairs there stand to attention, and when I turned slightly, my heart shuddered in my chest. 

Lethia stood in the middle of the kitchen, rubbing a hand on her elbow. Her hair was a mess from a night of sleep and I could make out the faintest of a few purple marks across her neck. My cock twitched in my sweats when I remembered our kisses from last night. But that’s not what made my heart stop. It was what she was wearing. 

My blue and white star shorts and my Jesus playing basketball with the devil t-shirt. It drowned on her, barely covering the shorts. Not only were her arms covered in tattoos but so were both of her legs, the black designs standing out amongst the sunlight that brushed in through the patio door next to her. Lethia looked absolutely breathtaking. 

Like an angel. 

“Hilarious,” she pulled at the picture of the shirt. 

I smiled. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“You guys were going to ask me something?” 

She averted my question with one of her own and Orie spoke up. 

“We were going for a hike today. Would you like to join?” 

“A hike,” Lethia repeated the words slowly. 

Michael rolled his eyes. “You know, walking up a mountain. Fresh air. Scenery. Exercise.” 

Crimson eyes sliced into him. “I know what a hike is.” 

“Cool, so are you coming with or not?” He crossed his arms. 

“I’m touched you want me to tag along, Michael. I knew you secretly had feelings for me,” Lethia teased with a playful smirk. 

Peering over to Michael, I noticed a red tint covering his cheeks before he hid his face in the fridge, rummaging around for something. 

“So,” I began while closing the distance between Lethia and me. “Do you want to come with us?” 

She peered up at me through dark lashes. “You want to spend time with me?” 

“I think after last night that it’s pretty clear,” I said while taming her sleep-tousled hair. 

Lethia leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering shut with a peaceful sigh. 

“Okay,” she agreed after a beat of silence. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed.” 

“Take all the time you need,” I said, trailing my fingers down the side of her neck. 

Lethia slipped away from me and trotted back upstairs to get ready and when I turned around, I ignored the looks from Michael, Orie, and Jolly. Instead, I walked into the living room while hearing Jesse fill them in on what happened last night. 

“You kissed her?” Michael asked as he followed me into the living room. 

Slipping my black jacket over my hoodie, I shrugged. “It sort of happened. We were in my room talking and I asked if I could.” 

He hesitated and I knew, like Jesse, he had some reservations. 

“Look, I appreciate you guys looking out for me, I do. But if I didn’t trust Lethia, she wouldn’t be here. So can we please make her feel welcome?” 

I directed the question towards Michael, who raised his hands. “I didn’t start it.” 

“I think the reason why you two seem to butt heads is because she doesn't take your shit,” Jolly chuckled while tying up his hair. 

Michael grumbled under his breath as Lethia came bounding down the steps, yet again taking my breath away. She was dressed in biker shorts, showcasing her long and toned legs, and a black fitted crop top. Her white tennis shoes stood out as she came to a stop when all eyes fell on her. 

“Do I have something stuck to me or something?” She asked, doing a full 360 turn, and I briefly saw a tattoo peaking on her shoulder through the straps of her shirt. 

Some kind of bird. A crow?

“No, you look great,” I smiled. “Ready?” 

“Shit, my jacket. Let me-.” 

Before she could run back upstairs, I handed her an extra sweater of mine I grabbed from the front closet. 

“Your leather jacket is looking a bit worn so here, you can have my sweater for the day,” I said. 

She hesitantly took it, fingering the material of my yellow sweater. “Thank you, Noah.” 

The drive to our usual hiking spot seemed to go by faster than normal as we all piled in Orie’s SUV; he and his dog, Harper, up front; something Michael gave him shit for when he tried to call shotgun. 

Jolly and Michael were in the middle. 

Me, Lethia, and Jesse were in the back seat. 

My knees were brushing with hers, heat spreading throughout my nerve endings and I suddenly wanted to feel all of her all over me. Memories of our kiss last night flashed in my mind when I found myself staring at her lips while she talked with Jesse. 

I remembered how they tasted; like every dark thought I’d ever had. There was something about her that kept calling to me, to a side that I forever repressed. I needed to know more about her and to know who she was running from so I could protect her from them. 

Once we all stumbled out of the car, Lethia bent low to Harper so the dog could sniff her fingers. With a faint smile, she scratched Harper being the ears, something the dog appreciated with a wag of her tail. 

“You’re a beautiful creature,” Lethia mused before rising to her feet. 

With Orie taking the lead, we all followed up the usual path, Lethia slowly trailing behind. I let her take her time alone, figured something was bothering her, but when we made it about halfway up the trail, I finally turned to face her. Her hand was moving in an orbit as she studied the long black nails; sharp as a blade. 

“Come on slowpoke!” I called out to her with a smile after pulling my hood up.

Her eyes barely lifted to mine, something still clouding her mind. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, coming to a stop. 

“Hm?” 

When Lethia finally looked up at me, it was a few seconds too late as she crashed into me, not realizing I stopped walking. My arms wrapped around her to keep us upright while her hands sprawled over my chest. I was still so nervous to have her this close to me that I knew she would be able to tell when she’d feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest. 

“What’s going on in here?” I asked again, tapping her forehead. 

She didn’t even flinch. 

“Nothing,” Lethia said. 

I knew she couldn’t see the look I was giving her through my sunglasses so instead, I squeezed her hips; once again not reacting to my touch. 

“I’m fine, Noah,” she reassured me with a gentle caress to my face. “We should move along before the others wonder where we drifted off to.” 

I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that Jolly was at the top of the hill about ten feet ahead of us; stopped and waiting. 

“The first one to Jolly wins,” I said. 

This made her raise a brow. “A race?” 

“Yeah,” I dropped my hands from her waist. “If I win, I get to sleep in my bed with you. The couch isn’t the best place to sleep on my back. If it makes you feel better, we can put a wall of pillows between us.”

“What do I get when I win?” Her hands replaced mine on her hips. 

I snorted. “Someone’s confident.” 

It was her turn to snort. “There’s no way you can beat me. Now, what do I get when I win?” 

“Whatever you want,” I shrugged. 

She tapped a finger to her lip as if she was really thinking about her decision. 

“If I win, I’d like for you to kiss me again.” 

My cock twitched in my joggers while my heart hammered loudly in my ears. 

“Lethia,” my voice dropped. “You don’t have to make a bet for me to kiss you again.” 

Cocking her head to the side, she stood taller to close the distance. I felt the warm breath fan over my bottom lip and I almost captured her tongue with mine when it darted out to wet her lips. 

Suddenly, her laughter erupted through the trees as she took off in a sprint toward Jolly. Chuckling under my breath, I whipped around to begin running after her, amazed at how fast she’d already closed the distance to Jolly. She was less than five feet from him as he watched the two of us with a smile. 

Suddenly, her steps faltered briefly, just enough for me to pass her in such haste that I didn’t see that she stopped running completely. When I reached Jolly, I tapped his shoulder before raising my hands. 

“I win!” 

Lethia slowly caught up to us with a smile painting the features of her face, not even working hard to catch her breath from the race. It was as if she wasn’t even winded. 

“You did, fair and square,” she agreed while tying half of her hair up into a bun. 

Jolly looked from me to Lethia, a knowing look on his face. “Really?” 

My shoulders fell when I saw the look the two of them shared. 

“Wait,” I pointed to her. “Did you let me win?” 

“No,” Lethia dragged out the word and shrugged. “Why would I do that?” 

When she slipped between Jolly and me, she patted my chest and winked. “You better not be a blanket hog, Noah.” 

I watched her walk up to Jesse, the two of them picking up the conversation they had in the car. 

“You know Lethia let you win, right?” 

Jolly’s voice made me snap my gaze over to him. “No, she didn’t.” 

Now it was me that gave that knowing look and I shifted on my feet. 

“Why would she let me win?” I asked. 

“She wanted you to share your bed with her,” Jolly said as if it was obvious. 

I stood there for a long moment after he left to catch up with everyone else, letting his words settle within me. Lethia let me win because she wanted to share my bed. A fire burned in my gut with that knowledge as excitement filled my veins with the thought of going to sleep tonight. 

When I reached the group, they all were standing on a cliff edge staring down at the city of Los Angeles. This was one of my favorite spots because you could see everything up here but hear nothing of the hustle and bustle of the city, only your thoughts. 

I took note of Lethia who was a few feet away from all of us, in her own little bubble, letting the wind blow through her hair and my sweater that was tied around her waist. Her eyes were closed, a look of peaceful bliss on her face almost as if she belonged in the breeze. Her arms were outstretched as she tilted her head back.  “Lethia.” 

One eye cracked open as she looked at me when I snapped a quick picture of her with a smile. 

“I’m glad you invited me with you guys,” she breathed while dropping her arms. 

“Yeah, you’ve been alright company,” Michael admitted with a grumble. 

She came over and ruffled his hair. “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

Hooking an arm around her back, I pulled her into my chest, breathing my question over her lips. “You let me win the race?” 

“Now why would I do that?” Lethia hummed, playing with the strings of my hoodie. 

“That would mean I secretly want to sleep in the same bed with you.” 

Something mischievous sparkled in her crimson eyes as I lowered my head to her, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Her body relaxed in my embrace, lips molding against my own, while my hands roamed up her back. 

Pulling away, Lethia dragged a finger over my bottom lip. 

“Looks like we both won in the end,” she respired. 

“How sweet.” 

Lethia’s body went stiff in my embrace when she peered over my shoulder toward the unfamiliar voice. Following her gaze, my brows creased when I noticed a man standing a few feet away from our group, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his dark Levis. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, showcasing a golden chain. For someone walking outside on a dirt-filled mountain, he looked clean; pristine. Not a single strand of his blonde hair was out of place on top of his head. 

“Uriel,” Lethia forced out through gritted teeth.

“Do you know him?” I asked when I looked back at her.

“Unfortunately,” her jaw ticked, never removing her eyes from the stranger. “He’s an old friend. Give me a few minutes?” 

I swallowed the jealousy burning deep in my gut at the way she said old friend but nodded, letting her slip from my embrace. With the guys flanking in a line a few feet behind her, we watched with careful eyes as she moved out of earshot from us. 

LETHIA  

“How did you find me?” I questioned, the soles of my shoes scraping along the rocks beneath my feet. 

Uriel smiled with his lips but not his eyes. “I must admit, your scent was a bit harder to find now that you mingle among these mortals.” 

“What do you want, Uriel?” My hands shook at my side so I rolled them into fists. 

Bright gold eyes flicked over my shoulder towards the guys before they fell on me. 

“I come with a message from the King.” 

I swallowed thickly, nearly faltering my stone face at the mention of the King, but remained calm. 

“I’m surprised he let you leave his side; you were always the one to be up his ass any chance you could get.” 

Uriel’s eyes sliced into me. “The vulgarity of your speech, Lethia. A few weeks here and you’ve changed; in more ways than one.” 

“What’s this message?” I asked with a sigh, ready to end this surprise meeting. 

“The King is welcoming you back into the Kingdom.” 

My heart stopped in my chest as my jaw dropped. I couldn’t ignore the way relief flooded me for the briefest of moments. 

A way back home? I was allowed to go back home. 

“That seems too good to be true. How can I believe your word?” I asked while crossing my arms over my chest. 

Uriel held out his hands. “I am an archangel, Lethia. We’re known for our word.” 

“When the fuck has your word ever been good enough? I sneered, countless memories of how wrong his word had been in the Kingdom. 

“Do you want to be granted a way back or not?” Uriel clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

“Surely the King has a catch,” I reminded him. “He always did.” 

Uriel pointed to Noah. “Erase that mortal’s memory of you, renounce him and everything you’ve done together. Never look his way again and you have your way back home.” 

My heart fell to the depths of my stomach at this demand. Even though there was a tiny sliver of hope of being granted access back into my home, there was no way I could erase Noah’s memory of me. These feelings we shared were still unknown to me but that didn’t mean I didn’t understand that we were important to each other; the feelings were real. 

“I’m not interested,” I spat while spinning on my heels, ready to walk back over to Noah. 

“He will allow you time to think about it, but not for long,” Uriel spoke. “I suggest you accept because the stench of humans is beginning to rub off on you; especially that mortal.”

Both of us glanced over at Noah who was watching us intently while talking with Jesse. They were still a good distance from us so I knew none of them could hear mine and Uriel's conversation. 

“Hm, he fancies you, Lethia. Tell me, how often do you walk in his dream? Quite often I suppose since he has those vulgar thoughts of you,” Uriel breathed against the back of my neck, fingers grazing over mine. 

My head snapped up to Uriel, creating distance between us by snatching my hand away from him. It was clear that I still was able to feel the touch of fellow angels, just not mortals.  

“You don’t know anything! He’s a good man offering me a place to stay away from Maraxa and Lucifer,” I seethed. 

His eyes darkened, almost as black as my wings. “You must not heed to their demands. If you even think about joining Lucifer's army, any chance of you getting back into the Kingdom will be long forgotten. The King is only allowing you one chance. Erase that mortal mind or stay on this putrid planet and walk among these disgusting creatures.” 

“Trust me, I have zero intention of joining Lucifer. It’s because of him I fell into what I am now. But the thought of joining a Kingdom that banished me also isn’t quite appealing,” I scoffed and walked a few steps away from him when his next words gave me great pause. 

“What if I sweeten the deal?” 

Turning slowly on my feet, I held out a hand. “I doubt it but go ahead.” 

Uriel pursed his lips before running a hand through his already perfect long, golden hair. “It is known that Lucifer is looking to revolt and he’s trying to find other fallen to join his army; for example, you.” 

I shook my head. “I already told you, I have no interest in joining him.” 

“The King can be quite lax with this upcoming war. He thinks he has enough soldiers for it but if I’m being frank, without Oblivion, we have no chance.” 

Every part of my body chilled to the bone as all the breath was snatched from my lungs at hearing that name; I hadn’t heard it in so long. 

“I’m not that person anymore,” I stated. “I haven’t been for a very long time.” 

“If you come back to the Kingdom, you can bring him with you. But still would need to erase his memories of you.” Uriel nodded behind me. 

To Noah. 

“What?” I stood tall. “How would that work? He’s mortal, he wouldn’t survive in the Kingdom. Not to mention, the King would never allow it.” 

That’s when something sparkled in Uriel’s eyes. 

“You two will dethrone the King.” 

I laughed out loud at his words. “Dethrone the King? Show up to the pearly gates so we can spit in his face?” 

“Think about it,” Uriel stepped closer to me, running a hand through my short locks. 

“If you accept to dethrone the King, lead the army in victory against Lucifer, you can bring the mortal with you and rule the Kingdom. However, he would have to be a mere peasant there. He cannot remember who you are. Think of him as a mere pawn for you to play with.” 

I stood frozen under his touch as he twirled a strand of hair around his finger. “I’ll even return you to your old physical state. Which you should be thankful for because this one doesn’t suit you.” 

The promise of not only going back home in my old form but being able to bring Noah with me made something inside of me light with the life I’d been searching for since I fell. But it wouldn’t be easy to bring a mortal into the Kingdom; there was only one way to enter. 

Being an eternal being. 

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered under my breath. 

Uriel smiled as he removed his hand from my hair. “I suggest you do because the longer you try to hide your true form, well I don’t need to remind you of what will happen.” 

No, he didn’t. 

My wings will deteriorate. My powers will weaken. Slowly over time, I will lose myself in my mind. 

With a scowl, I turned my back to him and finally sauntered back over towards Noah, who met me halfway, quick to pull me into his embrace. 

“Everything alright?” He brushed away some stray hairs from my face. 

“I need to get far away from that man,” I begged, parts of me that I didn’t want to remember coming back with force. 

“Did he hurt you?” Noah’s hands were on both sides of my face, almost mute against my skin. “Are you alright?

“Please,” I grasped at his arms, digging into the material of his jacket. “Can we leave? Seeing him brought up far too many memories I’d like to forget”. 

Noah nodded while wrapping an arm around my shoulder to begin leading me back down the hill, Uriel’s voice calling after us. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Lethia!”

JOLLY

“This place is called what?” 

Noah chuckled at Lethia’s upturned head at him with furrowed brows. “In-N-Out. They’ve got great burgers here.” 

“Burgers?” She said slowly. 

I watched as Noah explained the menu to her, what’s good and what to stay away from. Revealing that she wasn’t particular to any kind of food, he took it upon himself to order her a cheeseburger, fries, and a large chocolate milkshake. 

“Oh, that milkshake sounds delicious,” Lethia mused with a bright smile.

There was a faint smile on my face as I continued to watch the two of them, Noah sliding his hand on the lower back of Lethia as they waited for their food. She had slipped on his sweater on the way down from the mountain, the sudden change in the wind causing all of us to feel a frigid chill.

After Lethia spoke to that old friend of hers, something shifted with her. Noah could tell instantly because he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, not wanting to let her more than a few inches out of her sight. 

“Something doesn’t feel right about this guy,” Noah muttered to me as we watched Lethia and her friend converse. 

I held him back with a grip on his elbow when he nearly stomped over there seeing Uriel run his hands through Lethia’s hair. 

“Jolly,” he warned through gritted teeth. 

“Just give her some time alone, like she asked. If she’s uncomfortable, she’ll let you know,” I said. 

I could practically see all the worry leave Lethia’s body when Noah’s arms wrapped around her not even a minute later. 

I couldn’t explain it, and frankly, I don’t think Noah could explain either how Lethia entranced him since he found her in our driveway all those weeks ago. He claimed there was this undeniable pull between them and almost as if it was fate that they kept running into each other.

There’d been this light in Noah’s eyes every time he looked at Lethia, shining brighter now knowing and witnessing they kissed. He’d become transfixed ever since that first meeting even when she had her hand wrapped around his throat. We all should have been terrified of the strength she possessed when she tackled Folio to the floor or with how tight her grip was around Noah. But if he didn’t feel harm when he was around her, the least we could do was trust her. 

“What do you think?” Noah asked. 

She nodded with a mouth full of food then once she swallowed, Lethia took a large gulp of her milkshake. “Delicious.” 

While I ate my food, I continued to carefully watch them as the others around me had their own conversations. I didn’t miss the way when Noah muttered something in her ear, Lethia’s cheeks turned a deep crimson, like her eyes. 

She had her milkshake halfway to her lips when her body stilled, a painful grimace crossing her features. Those eyes scanned the entirety of the restaurant, almost looking for someone. 

“Are you alright?” Jesse questioned. 

“Uh,” Lethia winced, nearly doubling over in pain when she grasped at the ends of the table. 

A small gust of wind bristled by our table, tickling the back of my neck, and as I rubbed there Lethia quickly rushed to her feet. 

“I need a moment,” she grumbled before rushing out of the restaurant. 

Noah wanted to go after her but decided against it, knowing she needed time to herself. 

“Anyone else think she does that a lot?” Michael questioned. 

Noah sighed while running a hand through the long strands of his hair. “Lethia has a lot going on right now. She needs help.” 

“What do you mean?” I asked while tossing my garbage on the tray in front of me. 

There was slight hesitation from Noah for a long moment until he eventually divulged to us that he believes Lethia is running from an ex who wanted her back, even though he kicked her out of their house. 

“Oh, right. Lucifer,” Michael snorted. “Are we sure she doesn’t have this obsession with the occult or some shit? The only Lucifer I’d heard of is the supposed devil. 

Orie smacked him upside the head. “Dude, Lethia is not dating the devil.” 

“She’s not dating anyone,” Noah’s eyes sliced over to him but they softened when he realized his words. “Lethia’s not dating anyone.” 

“Then what do you call what’s going on between the two of you?” Jesse wondered. 

“I don’t know,” Noah shrugged. “I like her but I don’t want to rush her into anything she doesn’t want.” 

“From what I’ve seen, you’re not. Whatever you’re giving her, she’s reciprocating it back. Lethia feels the same, Noah. You don’t have to worry about that,” I assured him. 

All he did was nod as he kept his gaze on the door of the restaurant where Lethia stormed through minutes before. 

LETHIA

“Come to me, Lethia. My queen. I need you by my side to rule.” 

I clawed at my ears, digging out Lucifer's voice, and continued to run into the woods behind the restaurant. My body ached with the pain of my wings nearly forcing their way out of my back. It’s been a few days since I let them out and it was beginning to crush me. 

“I miss you, Lethia. I need you again.” 

“Stop!” I cried while falling to my knees in the leaves and dirt, hands covering my ears. 

“I’ll never stop until I have you in my presence. You are mine, Lethia. Not his.” 

All but ripping Noah’s sweater off of me, I tossed it to the side just as I let out a sheer groan of agony mixed with ecstasy when my large wings exploded from my back. The force of them caused the branches of the trees around me to falter, some falling to the ground around me like drops of rain. 

My jaw was slack as I peered up to the gloomy grays of the sky, an upcoming storm about to ravage through the city. All the pain I felt inside the restaurant was long forgotten, replaced with the intoxication of my angelic being. My powers began to slowly fester low inside of me and with an open palm, I watched the bright light slowly begin to grow into a baseball-sized orb then with a flick of my wrist, I sent it to a tree far off into the distance, incinerating it completely. 

My body vibrated with all of my senses. I could hear the chatter of people miles away, feeling the slight creep of chills against the skin of my back when my name came out from the chatter. 

“Lethia.” 

Before, it was Lucifer speaking in my mind. But now, that voice that uttered my name was the same that spoke when he was kissing me last night. 

My left wing came around to the front of me, blocking me from anyone who dared to venture into the woods and a broken sob fell from my chattering lips. They were deteriorating at such a rapid pace. While they were still large, dark, and caused fear to any mortal who saw them, my wings were a pathetic excuse to any other angel. A few feathers drifted into the wind, the weakness from hiding who I was taunting me. 

“There she is. I knew you couldn’t hide who you were. The darkness lies inside of you, begging to awaken.” 

I sucked in a gulp of air when Maraxa’s voice crept into my mind now; the cold and monotone bringing a chill to my bones. 

My eyes rolled to the back of my head when a vision slammed into me. 

Noah and the guys sitting in the booth of the restaurant, smiling and laughing with a group of girls that sauntered up to the table. One of the girls was standing a bit too close to Noah, as he signed something for her. When he handed it back, their fingers grazed over the girl’s. His almond eyes snapped from her hand to her face, gazing at all of her features.

“No!” I screamed while rising to my feet. “Stop. I know what you’re doing!” 

“Oh, sweet Oblivion. I’m doing nothing that your mind is already thinking.” 

The way Maraxa uttered my other name made me whirl around, thinking she was here with me. 

“I’m not Oblivion anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time,” I spat, eyes scanning my surroundings. 

“You should see yourself. Looking like a mad angel who lost her mind.” 

Uriel’s warnings were right. My wings were deteriorating and now, I was losing myself in my mind. Were these voices even in my head? Or had I been imagining them since my fall? 

“Lethia?!” 

My head snapped up to just outside the clearing of the woods, Noah’s faint outline slowly closing the distance. 

“Oh, you’re thinking of letting him see you in your true form. Surely, he will think you’re even more of a freak than how you look. He wouldn’t understand.” 

Meraxa. 

The voices wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I smacked my ears to drown them out. 

“This mortal will never understand you. You’re mine, Lethia. Mine and no one else's. I will have you in my arms once again.” 

Lucifer. 

“Stop,” I cried while falling to my knees again, my wings wrapping around me in a protective barrier. 

“Dethrone the King and all of his kingdom will be yours.” 

Uriel. 

“Lethia? Are you okay?” 

Noah. 

Snapping my eyes open, they landed on Noah who was now a few feet away from me. With a roll of my shoulders, I stood to my feet, appearing just as I had moments before leaving his presence. 

NOAH

“Lethia, are you alright?” I questioned as she appeared through the clearing of the woods. 

I felt Lethia brush past me as she walked back toward the car, not uttering a word at me. My heart sank slightly but I did my best not to dwell on it because of our moments together in my bedroom and the bathroom last night. The unbridled passion between us was burning over into undeniable attraction. 

With a sigh, I tied my hair into a low bun, ready to go back home after this long day, but a flutter of movement at my feet caught my attention. It was a lone black feather, just like the one I'd found that first night Lethia appeared in my life. 

Bending at the knees, I reached for the feather, and then with a gasp of breath, I felt my vision being yanked away from me at the edges, darkness encompassing every part of me. I felt my soul being dragged away into another dimension, tumbling into a brighter vision of pure peace and eternal life. 

A woman with white golden hair stood in front of me, even brighter wings protruding from her back, as she held onto less fragile wings from the man who kneeled at her feet. 

"Oblivion," he cried. "Don't fall into the true meaning of your name, please." 

The woman; no angel cocked her head to the side with a slight wicked smile. 

"The King bestowed this name to me for a reason," was all she said before the man's cries of death and pain erupted but were overshadowed by the sounds of his wings being ripped from his back. 

With a gasp of breath, I was dragged back into the present, nearly stumbling onto my ass. Looking around my surroundings, I noticed I was back in Los Angeles, Jolly and Jesse slowly walking towards me. 

"You alright?" Jolly wondered. 

Ignoring him, I twirled the feather in my fingers and locked eyes with Lethia, who gave nothing away from her face except the slight flicker of light in her red eyes.

This vision didn’t feel like it was one of my own memories. It was as if I was dragged into someone else subconscious as I watched from the outside looking in. Something about watching the angel get his wings ripped away from him felt wrong, especially with the wicked smirk the female angel had on her face when she did it. 

I couldn’t ignore the way my mind vibrated with the familiarity of her. I knew who she was but she didn’t look familiar. Her presence was the only familiar thing about her and with a flick of my gaze to Lethia, there was a small part of me that knew who it was. 

With a sigh, I carefully pocketed the feather in my coat pocket and nodded over to Jesse who asked if I was ready to head back to the house. When I climbed into the car, I noticed that Michael and Jolly sat in the back with Lethia, so I retreated into the front seat of the car, while Jesse lounged in the middle with Harper. 

“Everything alright?” Orie asked as he pulled the car out onto the main road. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched Lethia for a few beats as she stared straight out of her window, not bothering to meet my gaze. I knew she could feel it burning into her but whatever happened to her outside in those woods rendered her speechless. 

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully before turning back to face forward with a sigh. 

As soon as we arrived back at the house, Lethia nearly jumped out of the car to run inside once Jolly opened the door for her. She locked herself away in my bedroom for the rest of the afternoon well into the evening. Part of me wanted to check on her if she was alright but it was clear she wanted to be left alone. If she needed me, she would let me know. 

Would she? 

With a shake of my head at the thought, I bid a goodnight to Jesse and Michael as we watched a movie together in the living room and slowly retreated up the steps to my room. The door opened a crack but before I pushed my way through, I noticed Lethia standing in the middle of my room in front of my mirror. She was only wearing a pair of black panties and a matching bra. I knew I should have averted my gaze to anything else but I was mesmerized by her. 

Lethia showed me her back, hands slinking up her spine towards the hook of her bra, the material falling to the floor at her feet. My breath caught in my throat when I noticed the large crow tattoo on her right shoulder blade. But it wasn’t just the sight of it that gave me great pause; it was the large upside-down V scar on her back. It wasn’t an old scar. It looked new; fresh. 

“What the?” I muttered, slowly pushing away from the door to stand in the middle of the landing above the stairs. 

With a glance over the landing, I noticed that Jesse and Michael were still sitting on the couch, and knowing Jolly and Orie retreated to bed earlier, the computer in the studio was free. As I came back downstairs to head into the studio that was off the den, Jesse raised a brow at me. 

“I thought you went to bed?” 

I motioned to the room in front of me. “Late-night inspiration.” 

Shutting the door behind me, I dropped down into the chair in front of the computer with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. My mind was full of different words, I wasn’t sure where to start. 

Black feathers. 

Vivid dreams. 

Crows in dreams. 

Upside-down V scars on a person's back. 

Angels. 

Fallen Angels. 

The last one made me freeze ever so still, a memory of my own past creeping into the front recesses of my mind. 

“Noah, dear! Come on. It’s time for your bedtime story!” 

Eight-year-old me ran down the long hallway of my grandparent's house into my bedroom there and hopped into my bed, where my grandma sat on the edge with a fond smile. 

“Lord of the Rings?” I asked while climbing under the blankets. 

She chuckled while tucking me in. “Now, what did I say about those books? Aren’t you a little too young for them?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Ok grandma, what’s the story tonight?” 

“Fallen angels.” 

“Like from heaven?” I asked with furrowed brows. 

“Now I won't bore you with all the details but there’s something special about them,” my grandma began while patting my thigh over the blanket. “When an angel falls from heaven, people think they’re automatically stripped of all their powers but sometimes that's not the case.” 

She continued. “There’s this story of a great angel that fell, her feathers scattered all over the world. Whenever a human touched them, they would be sucked into memories of the angel.” 

I gave my grandma a “you can’t be serious” look but she only cupped my cheek in response.  

“No one believed that angels walked among us until someone saw the scars on the back of one.” 

“Scars?” I said, sitting up straighter in bed. 

“Large ones on their back. In an upside-down V.” 

I choked on a breath nearly falling out of the computer chair but gripped the handrests to keep myself steady. When I was eight years old, I figured my grandma was blowing smoke out of her ass, telling another one of her many stories. But now, everything seemed to have a bit of truth. 

Biting my bottom lip, I clicked on Google and quickly typed the words into the search bar before I doubted myself a second longer. 

Fallen Angel.

I clicked on the first website. 

“Fallen Angels are angels who have been exiled or banished from Heaven. Often such banishment is a punishment for disobeying or rebelling against their King,” I read the words out loud. 

I scrolled down the page a bit farther, still muttering the words out loud as I read them. 

“If a fallen angel is impaled or struck in the scars created when his or her wings were ripped out usually spanning from shoulder blades to kidney area, he or she will be temporarily immobilized. Some angels still have scars even if they haven’t lost their wings. It’s easier for the skin to peel away for the wings to slip from.” 

I shivered at the phantom feeling but then froze when I read the next section. 

“A fallen angel is unable to feel physical pain or sensations.” 

Scrolling down a bit farther, it was then that I realized how right I’d been about this feeling festering within me; almost begging to be let out. 

“A fallen angel's feather holds a lot of power. It holds the memories of the angel and whoever touches them can find themselves in those memories. A fallen angel's biggest weakness is one of their feathers. If a feather is burned, the original owner of the feather will be chained in Hell for eternity. Otherwise, fallen angels are nearly as indestructible as Angels and Archangels.” 

I fell back into the chair and rubbed a hand over my mouth, letting everything I read process in my mind. Everything correlated to what I’ve noticed with Lethia especially the part of her not being able to feel anything. 

There’d been a few times when it seemed like my touch meant nothing to her. But when we kissed, it seemed as if she could feel that. 

The feathers. 

Even though I tried to deny what I’d seen when I picked up the feather today, I knew that it was true what I’d seen. 

But how come I hadn’t seen anything when I picked up the first feather? 

Hunching back over towards the computer screen, I read more into the section about fallen angel feathers. 

“The more fallen angel feathers you touch, the stronger your connection to their memories is.” 

With a purse of my lips, I rummaged around the desk looking for my lyric book where I had stashed the first feather, using it as a bookmark. The other feather was still in my pocket, weighing heavily with the fear of what I would see next. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat. It was suffocating, this feeling clawing its way inside of me, threatening to pull me under. 

Did I want to do this? 

Was I ready for what I could potentially see? 

Granted, I had to take everything I read online with a grain of salt because it could have been a bunch of made-up bullshit. But with it correlating to not only my grandma’s story but things I’ve noticed about Lethia, there had to be some truth to it all. 

“Fuck it,” I muttered while grabbing the feather in my lyric notebook at the same time I grabbed the one in my pocket. 

Darkness lingered at the corners of not only my vision but my mind as well. It dragged me under with no warning to the dark depths of what I could only assume was Lethia’s mind. 

My body landed with a thud to the cool wetness of the grass below me and quickly scrambling to my knees, I took in the vast empty field that went on for miles. Brightly colored trees lined the edge of the field and it was so quiet here that I could hear my blood running through my veins. 

“My love. I've been waiting for you.” 

Whirling around on my heels, I took in the sight of a tall man with skinny but large white wings extended from his back. His black hair was a mess of curls in front of his eyes and the dark levis hung low on his hips. The sheer brightness of his green eyes was almost eerie and I felt as if he could see straight into my soul. 

But he didn’t. It was as if he didn’t see me when he walked past me, over towards a lone figure lying in the grass a few meters away from me. 

Long golden, almost white, strands of hair fell around her shoulders as she sat up, bright eyes staring back at the man who was slowly closing the distance. I swallowed thickly when I recognized that face. 

It wasn’t the way I knew her but it was still her. 

Lethia. 

“Lucifer. You know you’re not supposed to be here,” she quickly rose to her feet, taking a step back from him. 

He stood in front of her shirtless, the defining muscles of his chest and stomach tightening as he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. 

So her ex actually was Lucifer. 

What the fuck did you just step into, Noah?

“I snuck away from the King for a moment. I needed to see you,” Lucifer tried to reach for her. 

Lethia smacked his hands away before running a shaking one of hers through her long hair. I then noticed she also had her wings exposed; large and as white as her hair. 

“We cannot be seen together! If the King finds out we’ve been together, he will banish us; or worse.” 

Lucifer chuckled darkly then pulled Lethia into his arms; her going willingly. 

I gritted my teeth at the jealousy that coursed through me, trying to tell myself that it was a very long time ago and it didn’t mean anything; not anymore. 

“My sweet Oblivion. The King wouldn’t banish his number one soldier. If he lost you, who would tear out the wings of the ones who went against him?” 

My blood ran cold at Lucifer's words. I knew that the first memory I saw had something to do with Lethia but I never put two and two together. She was the one who ripped out the angel's wings.

“I did horrible things back home and how could I ever be allowed back?

Her words from the last night made more sense now than they did when she first uttered them. 

“I cannot,” Lethia tried to fight against his grasp but ultimately gave in. 

“One more night. After tonight, I’ll let you be,” Lucifer’s fingers linked behind her neck, tilting her lips up towards him. 

“We both know we cannot stay away from each other,” she uttered before pulling him down to the grass with him. 

My eyes snapped open with a gulp of air and I gazed around the room of my studio, making sure that I was still alone. It took me some time to get my breath back to normal and my heart back to a steady pace. 

I slammed both of the feathers in my lyric book and hid it in the far back of the closet in the room, hoping no one else would find it. Those feathers held too much power and if I lost them, the looming fear of what could happen taunted me. 

“If an angel's feather is burned, they become changed to Hell for all eternity,” I reiterated the words I read earlier. 

Whether or not that part was true, I couldn’t risk it. 

Letting out a long breath, I shut down the computer and slowly slipped out of the studio, going upstairs to my bedroom unnoticed by Jesse and Michael who were still watching the movie. This time when I stopped in front of my room, I noticed the door was shut so I was quiet as I stepped inside, finding a sleeping Lethia cuddled under the mounds of blankets on my bed. 

I stood there for a long moment, staring at her back as it faced me, wondering what the scars looked like again underneath her shirt. 

My shirt. 

I had offered her to wear anything of mine and it seemed like she took me up on that offer. 

It was clear who she was running from. Lucifer. He wanted her back for reasons unknown to me but it was clear she didn’t want to go with him. 

I moved around my room quietly to change into a pair of sweats, opting not to sleep in a shirt only because it got extremely hot in my room during these summer nights, even with the air conditioner on. 

Softly, I got into bed behind Lethia as the faint breaths coming from her filled the air. For the first while, I laid on my back and stared up at my ceiling but when I noticed she didn’t move away, I turned to my side but still kept space between us. The heat from her body radiated around me, pulling me into her aura and I found myself never wanting to leave. 

Even though I knew what she was now, I wouldn’t tell Lethia I knew. This was something she needed to tell me when she was ready. 

Instead, I wrapped my arm around her midsection and pulled her into my chest. Although she might not be able to feel my touch, that didn’t stop me from running my nose along the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She must have showered because she smelled of peaches and a hint of something familiar. 

Me. 

I faintly smelled my shampoo in her skin and I hummed in pleasure. 

“What happened to the wall of pillows?” Lethia’s tired voice broke through the silence. 

I knew she was teasing when I heard her smile with her words. 

“This is much better than a wall of pillows,” I mused while I caressed her neck with my lips.

Lethia relaxed in my arms as she gave herself over to me and linked my fingers that rested on her stomach with hers and I wrapped my leg over hers, locking her in place. 

“Goodnight, Noah,” she murmured into the pillow. 

“Sweet dreams, Lethia,” I pressed a kiss to her head, finally letting the long day falter away with the darkness that swallowed us whole. 

[siempre-bucky]

The Snowman dance

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley

Summary: Eddie recruits Buck to help chaperone Christopher's winter dance. At the dance, Chris asks Buck to help him ask his classmate to dance. It all leads to the two firefighters sharing a slow dance with whispered confessions and hallway kisses.

WC: 2.5k

A/N: My sister and my coworker finally got me to watch 9-1-1 and I'm obsessed with this show. I hope you enjoy my first fic in the Buddie fandom ♡

In my head, they're dancing to The Christmas Waltz by Laufey 

Eddie Diaz pulled his aviators from the front of his shirt as he opened the front door to Christopher’s school. He slid them up the bridge of his nose until they rested comfortably at the top and the Los Angeles sun was no longer bothering him. He grumbled about having to park his beloved truck in the back of the busy school parking lot. It was early on a Tuesday morning in December, and he thought he would have been in the second row. 

“Mr. Diaz!” A high pitched voice called from behind, but the firefighter was too lost in his thoughts of potential scratches to the shiny black paint. 

“Mr. Diaz!” 

After three more times, a hand touched his strong bicep. The man whipped around and put on a million-wat smile for Mrs. Romero, the older administrator of his son's school. She was a kind woman with graying brown ringlet curls and flowy earth-toned robes that reminded him of an eccentric theater teacher Chris had at summer camp once. 

“I am so sorry,” he laughed out an apology, her chunky costume jewelry clinking together, “I was in a world of my own.” 

The woman laughed in return and patted his arm, “I’m so glad I caught you.” She had a twinkle in her eye like she was about to ask him for a favor. He recognized it as the same look his abuela gives him whenever she needs help around her home. 

“How can I help?” he gave in, just like he would for his abuela. 

“Well as you know, The Snowman Dance is this Friday and I’m down two chaperones” Mrs. Romero explained, holding up two well-manicured fingers to further make her point. “Would you mind?” 

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and put his hands on his hips, staring at her crimson red nails. He could already hear the 118 making jokes about high school dances and Chris telling him how uncool he was for babysitting him and not letting him grow up. But nothing could compare to the cold stare of a woman with a plan and no highway option. “I’ll, uh, be there. I have an early shift, it should work out.” 

She clasped her hands with glee, red painted lips smiling brightly, “You are a Godsend, Eddie!” She tapped his arm again and started to walk back towards the school. “Oh! Oh!” she chirped, turning around before Eddie could walk a few more feet. “Would you also ask that other strapping young man, oh, what was his name?” Another manicured finger went up, “Oh! Evan! We all just love him.” 

They wanted Buck to help chaperone too? Out of all the people he knew and who had come to pick Christopher up in the past, they asked for Buck. It was probably the charming smile that could woo any of the PTA moms, or maybe how his muscles filled out the shirts he wore at pick up, or the way he was with children. Eddie smiled fondly to himself, fighting off a blush “I’ll ask him!” he called out, earning himself more points with her. 

Buck was cackling to himself later that night, nearly falling off Eddie’s couch as he crumpled the dance flyer. “They want me?” Buck asked for the third time, this time he was trying to catch his breath. The first had been disbelief, the second was shock that Mrs. Romero didn’t ask him herself the day before. 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Eddie intoned, bringing the amber bottle to his lips. 

“Too late, Diaz,” The blond smirked. He looked down at the flyer again, blue eyes connecting with the generic clip-art snowman in the bottom corner. Chris had already loudly expressed that he wanted Buck at the dance, it was now up to Eddie and what he wanted. “Do you want me to help out?” 

A silence lingered in the living room, Buck cautiously searched for any answers in Eddie’s body language. The brunet shifted in his seat, leaning forward to put his bottle on the coaster on the table that divided them. A million thoughts began to run through his head, what if he was crossing a line? What if Eddie didn’t want anyone questioning their relationship? A sadness suddenly hit him, was chaperoning a dance too much and were they getting too close? 

“Yeah,” Eddie finally said casually, “It’ll be fun.” 

And to Buck’s surprise, it was fun even if he had to hear “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” ten times. He mingled with the moms of the PTA, avoided their advances as if it were a superpower,  and stopped three kids from spiking the punch bowl. He was now the proud owner of three silver flasks.

He finally got time to breathe halfway through the event, sitting on the cold metal bleachers and taking in the tacky silver winter decorations that covered the gymnasium. Not too bad for a bunch of teenagers, he thought as he unbuttoned his maroon velvet coat jacket and leaned backward, clothed elbows resting on the bench behind him. His eyes followed a string of twinkling lights, leading him straight to Eddie who was talking to a few boys he recognized from Christopher’s class. 

He looked so relaxed, laughing at their childish jokes. All he wanted was to be close to him, to—

“Buck,” Christopher whined as he plopped down on the bench below him, his limbs splayed in defeat. Buck’s thoughts were interrupted by the teen's annoyed groaning. 

“What’s up, buddy?” Buck sat up and tapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. 

Chris shifted in his seat and looked up at him, “They’re going to play a slow song soon,” he sighed. 

Buck narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, “What’s the problem with that?” 

“Carly,” Chis said sadly, pointing to a girl with chestnut-colored hair and a puffy pink dress, giggling with her friends near the punch bowl. 

The older man's lips parted in realization, he wanted to ask a girl to slow dance with him. “Well,” Buck coughed, “Go ask her to dance.” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how.” 

Buck sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Well, all you gotta do is walk up to her and ask her if she would like to dance…and you dance.” Way to play it cool Buckley. 

Chris thought about it for a moment, “Can you show me how to ask?” 

“Like me ask someone?” 

“Exactly!” the boy cheered. 

Buck chuckled nervously, “I don't know, man, I don’t know anyone here.” 

The teen scanned the room, his eyes falling onto his father, “You could ask my dad.” 

A flush of pink dusted Buck’s cheeks, the palms of his hand suddenly becoming sweaty. “Chris,” he sighed. 

Chris’s features softened, his body slumping, becoming resigned to the situation. “Ok,” he muttered sadly. 

Buck was a proud man and most of the time he had an iron will, but when it came to Chris? Buck would do anything to see that boy smile. That boy's happiness mattered more than asking his crush to dance. His hand landed on his shoulder, “Alright,” he said, and Chris sprung back to life, “follow my lead.” 

The two crossed the floor, Chris copying Buck’s confident posture, eyes looking towards the punch bowl. Chris gasped as the slow song started. He couldn’t miss his chance! Buck walked in front of Eddie and turned on the Buckley charm, a confident smirk adorned his lips as he stared directly into Eddie’s warm brown eyes, pushing his feelings aside.

“Eddie, would you like to dance with me?” Buck asked confidently, outstretching his hand. Eddie looked confused until Buck nudged his head towards Chris who was anxiously standing in front of Carly, side-eyeing Buck to see what he was supposed to do next. 

“Oh,” Eddie chuckled, “I’d love to dance, Buck.” Eddie put his hand into Buck’s and watched  Chris and Carly walk to the brightly lit dance floor. 

The feelings he managed to suppress crashed into him the moment Edde slid his damn hand into Buck’s palm. His vision was blurry and his heart was aggressively leaping into his chest. It was almost like whiplash, he first saw Mrs. Romero’s gentle smile of approval and the next thing he saw was the back of Eddie’s head as he led him to the edge of the dance floor. 

For Eddie, he was as calm as could be. He softly smiled as the two men stood staring at each other, waiting for someone to take the lead. The brunet snorted, he placed one hand on Buck’s velvet-clad waist and lifted the other higher. The problem was that they were still standing a mile away. Eddie glanced over the other's shoulders and watched his son timidly dance slowly with his classmate. Her soft smile as they shifted side to side made his fatherly heart happy, a sudden relief washed over him knowing Christopher was ok. 

His eyes shifted to Buck, who was still watching Chris. That relief didn't last long—since when were they standing a mile apart? Why were his hands suddenly on fire? A breath hitched in his throat, now that Chris didn’t need him, Eddie was left alone with the consequences of his feelings. “Hey uh, Buck,” he began, his voice shaking, “Chris is good. We don’t gotta—” 

“No- no, we gotta follow through—for him, just in case he’s watching or something,” Buck played it mildly cool, his head snapping back to look at his friend. Shit, Eddie cursed in his head, his jaw clenching tightly. 

Follow through. 

For Christopher—for himself. 

Eddie took that step forward, closing the space between them. Buck’s blue eyes came closer into view. Were they always this beautiful up close? “We should dance,” Eddie whispered, his eyes trained on the slightly taller man. 

Buck swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded nervously, “We should,” he agreed. Left, right, left, right. That’s all he had to do, just move your damn feet Diaz. By some grace of God, Eddie and Buck finally started moving along to the slow jazzy Christmas song. Buck’s grip on his shoulder tightened and he stepped even closer, their breaths almost being able to mix. 

And suddenly, the world had faded around them. Eddie no longer smelled the stale gym air or overly fragrant teen boy body spray, all he could smell was the expensive cologne the blond was wearing. It took every ounce of strength not to bury his nose in the side of Buck’s neck. They had danced together before, at Hen and Karen's wedding, and many of Athena and Bobby’s parties, but it was never like this; sober and completely exposed. There were no threats of a fire alarm, their friends interjecting, or any alcohol (hopefully the confiscated flasks in Buck’s pockets continue to go unnoticed). It was just Buck standing in Eddie’s proximity. 

They stayed silent and the song played, just swaying side to side and avoiding each other's nervous gaze. Maybe fate stepped in because when their eyes finally locked onto one another, they couldn’t look away even if they tried—and they tried. Eddie watched how the silver lights that hung around the room reflected in Buck’s eyes like twinkling stars, they were almost glowing. The glowing squares of light off the mirrorball danced along Buck’s features, tracing his sharp jawline and taunting Eddie by moving over the curves of Buck’s lips. He knew Buck was an attractive person, everyone knew that. But in this light and this level of closeness, he was the most beautiful person Eduardo Diaz had ever seen. 

Then it hit him. The pounding in his chest was only getting worse as they danced, his desire to kiss the man in front of him only grew stronger. This was so much more than a crush, Eddie had fallen in love.

“Eddie, are you ok?” Buck asks suddenly, pulling his friend out of his nervous trance. 

No, he wasn't ok, his brain had been swirling since he agreed to a dance. Eddie pulled away, taking a step back. Before he could register the new look of disappointment that appeared on Buck’s features, he held out his hand for him. “We should take this somewhere else,” Eddie managed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Buck cautiously took Eddie’s hand, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as the taller man led them outside the gym doors. “They’ll never hire us as chaperones again,” Buck joked lightly as he watched the door click shut, the slow song becoming muffled in his ears. His attention returned to Eddie once he felt his thumb gently swipe along his knuckles. 

“They can survive a bridge and chorus without us,” Eddie joked back, pulling Buck closer. This time, Eddie placed his arms around Buck’s neck, and Buck instinctively put his hands on Eddie’s waist. The taller man felt dizzy again, clutching Eddie’s waist to keep him upright, somehow they were closer than before. Their foreheads were mere inches apart, noses almost grazing as they swayed. 

“Why’d you bring us out into the hall?” 

So a bunch of fourteen-year-olds wouldn’t see me kiss you for the first time. 

“I needed,” he breathed, his hands unclasping and delicately moved to the sides of Buck’s neck. Buck felt like he was burning, a wildfire igniting on every patch of skin Eddie’s fingers slowly moved along. “I needed-” 

“Eddie,” Buck gulped, his forehead finally finding purchase on the other. His pulse thumped under the pads of Eddie’s calloused fingers, then his palms gently covered that area as he cupped his face. 

“I needed to be alone with you,” Eddie whispered, noses brushing as he got closer. Buck was the one to close the gap as his blue eyes fluttered closed, pressing his lips to Eddie’s softly—cautiously. Buck pressed closer, their lips moving in perfect harmony. 

His heartbeat finally returned to normal the second Eddie pulled away slightly to catch his breath. “Eddie, I-” 

“-I love you.” 

So much for a regular heartbeat. 

“You love me?” Buck shook his head, making sure he wasn’t hearing things. 

“I’m very much in love with you, kinda always have been.” 

Buck kissed him quickly before pulling him into a hug, “I love you too,” Buck whispered in his ear. 

The two stood there for a while, a whole song had passed as they whispered sweet nothings and swapped jokes about them taking too long and how they kissed at a high school dance. Buck finally pulled away, telling Eddie that they should probably check on Chris and the others. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh when Buck mentioned they needed to keep the kid's arms length apart from each other. 

They peered into the window, scanning the glossy gym floor until they saw Christopher happily dancing with his friends. Buck reached for Eddie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on before the PTA comes for us,” Buck chuckled, kissing the back of Eddie’s hand. 

Eddie shrugged and pushed open the door, “I’m sure they didn’t miss us, and thank you,” he spoke fondly, “for asking me to dance.” 

Buck grinned, “Thank Chris, it was his idea, but you’re welcome.” 

Eddie looked over at his son, then back at Buck. A smile broke out on his lips, the warmth of Buck’s hand very present on his own. What a beautiful little family they made.

[slasher-dasher]

Hey Aster 😊

I love the way you write about the slashers 🤌🏻 My favourite one is the RZ! Micheal Myers ones 💓

Can I please request a Brahms heelshire SFW and NSFW shot? If possible ♥️

I really love that wall man 😫

I ALSO REALLY LOVE THAT WALL MAN!!! He and rz!Myers have a chokehold on my mind rn

Brahms Heelshire Oneshots

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

(gn!reader for both, NSFW w/tags below the line :> )

Priorities (SFW)

Brahms’ chest rose and fell with each gentle breath, small snores slipping out as he slept. His curled-up form covering only a tiny portion of the queen-sized bed, one that he hadn’t slept in in years. It was nice. It was warm. It was… comfortable. He missed this bed, this room. All those years merely being a witness to the room that he once grew up in, and he was finally able to enjoy the space again. An arm shifting around him caught his attention, a soft smile forming over his lips at the sleeping figure on the other side of the bed. His most recent nanny lay in the space, one arm lazily thrown across his waist while their face was buried in the pillow. This one hadn’t thought taking care of the doll was a joke at first, much like all the others did. No, they cared for him as if they were made to, and in a way, they were. Brahms traced his fingers over the curves of their face, being careful not to wake the sleeping form. The way a soft blush bloomed across the cheeks almost instantly always made him giggle, and he loved the curve of the jaw and how it contrasted so beautifully with the neck. An alarm went off in a spare bedroom, startling him so much that he jumped, pulling back as if he had done something wrong. It was 7 am. The eyes of the figure next to him slowly fluttered open, hand moving from his waist to bury itself in his hair, fingers toying with the curls and nails scratching at his scalp.

“You ready to get up love?” 

“Can we stay here a bit longer?” His voice was pleading, almost sure you would say yes without him having to do much. Brahms rested his arm over your waist, letting his hand trace shapes into the small of your back.

“No Brahms, we have to follow the rules, remember? This’ll mess up your sleep schedule if we don’t get up sweetheart. And I have to turn off that alarm,” even though the voice was light, it still carried a sense of authority.

“Pleeeeeeeeease?” He pouted behind his mask, eyes shining brightly like a kid on Christmas day. He knows you can’t say no to him when he looks at you with those eyes.

“Hmm, maybe just once-” You had barely finished speaking before he buried his porcelain face into your chest, a happy hum spilling out of Brahms’s throat as he got comfortable in your arms again. The cold material made you gasp for a moment, but you couldn’t help but chuckle. Your bodies curled around each other, heavy sheets protecting you from the ever-present chill in the Heelshire mansion.

“I love you~” A kiss was pressed to your neck, gentle as the porcelain lips it came from before Brahms closed his eyes again, body relaxing in your hold while he cuddled closer to you, if such a thing were possible.

“I love you too~” The alarm would go off by itself in a few minutes. You have something more important to take care of right now.

Keep Quiet (NSFW)

(tags: dom!reader, bratty Brahms, sub!Brahms, praise, oral (reader receiving), slight ownership if you squint)

You had almost gotten through the day before Brahms had started to act up. Though, it wasn’t as if you could fully blame him this time. Malcolm had been late delivering the groceries, which meant that dinner was pushed back until he was able to get what you (well… Brahms) had asked for this week. You had tried offering him snacks, sweets, sandwiches, just anything that would hold him over until you could manage to make dinner. He refused everything, shoving it away from him like it was poisoned, arms crossed with a loud huff as he turned his head away from you. You sighed, leaving the room for a brief moment to collect yourself, but it was long enough for Brahms to wonder if you were going to come back. He knew you would. You always do… right?

“Are you going to sit here and pout all day now? You were being so good earlier,” your voice made him jump, unaware that you had walked through the other door of the dining room. For as long as he had lived in this house, he still hadn’t gotten used to the layout from outside the walls. Just as he was going to speak, the sound of the doorbell echoed down the long halls of the estate. You sighed in relief, going to retrieve the groceries with Brahms right on your heels before setting everything up in the kitchen. The smell of spices and the sound of meat sizzling along with a boiling pot of noodles quickly filled the space, while Brahms took his usual place on the counter. He was a great taste tester, and you thought the second you started cooking he would slip right back into his role. How wrong you were. Right now he was still in “brat mode” as you liked to call it, refusing to even look at you unless he wanted to get under your skin. If ignored, he would complain louder. If acknowledged, he would fuss. A few harsh glances in his direction would keep him quiet for a short while, but once he was done squirming he would start up again.

“How much longeeeer,” he whined, voice breaking from the high-pitched one from earlier into his more natural, no, more needy voice. Suddenly, you had an idea. It would keep him busy, and give you time to cook without being interrupted. You snapped your fingers, watching his eyes lock onto them for direction. Good. He was still obedient like this. You motion toward the tile in front of you, silently instructing him to take his place there. Brahms hesitated for a moment, but slipped off of the counter with a grace someone like him shouldn’t have. He took his place on his knees in front of you, hands resting on your thighs and eyes locked on you, barely wet with tears that threatened to spill behind his mask. Poor boy thought he was in trouble, and in a way, he was. You voice was smooth as you spoke, fingers curling around the edge of the porcelain mask, lifting it off of his face and onto the now empty counter. He whimpered, lip pushed out in a pout until your hand found its way into his curls.

“Keep your mouth busy while I cook, hm? Think you can do that pretty boy?” You toyed with his hair, making his breath hitch as he hummed and nodded, hands quickly working to get your pants off. This was the Brahms you knew, the one looking up at you with hazy eyes as he took you into his mouth, not wasting a second to send waves of pleasure through your body as he pressed his tongue to you. Your hips kept his head flush against the oven door, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you’re sure they’d be bruised. This would be a test for both of you. On his end, how long he could resist before begging you to abandon the food on the stove. To just grip his hair and use his mouth until you were satisfied. He would let you, of course. He was yours, after all. On your end, how long you could pretend he wasn’t there. Pretend that all of his desperate mewls weren’t distracting you from your task or the way his lips curled around you like you were carved from the same body. Ultimately, you knew you would relent first. Taking care of Brahms was always your first priority, so with a swift click of the burner turning off, you let yourself melt into him. He shifted under you, hips grinding against your shoe, desperate for any kind of release. Soon, you both reached your breaking point, his moans sending shocks through your body as you twitched into his mouth, and your grip on his hair sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head. When you finally let go, dropping to your knees to join him in the mess you had both made, pressing your foreheads together as your breaths mixed in the small space you had created.

“Was I good?” His voice was broken from use, eyes glazed over from the pleasure of serving you, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders now as he steadied himself.

“Of course you were~” You pressed gentle kisses onto his face, tracing his jaw with your lips and his waist with your fingers while you both came down from your highs. Dinner would be saved for tomorrow. Or, at least until you both could stand.