#next time i should draw spicy hands

[tortor-sauce]

jel hand study

to put a visual to the scars i hc him with from years of sewing. also i just really love hands.. and jel.. c:

[outofconcheol]

Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time. 

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face. 

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.” 

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?” 

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters. 

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters. 

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.  

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners. 

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you. 

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone. 

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–” 

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly. 

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall. 

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping. 

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately. 

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate. 

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now,  cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too. 

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air. 

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard. 

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing. 

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says,  half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[wileys-russo]

washing machine malfunction II m.earps x reader

based on this request here washing machine malfunction II m.earps

"taking footage to scout with are you?" your best friend teased as you filmed a clip of the game, smacking her knee and sending her a playful glare. "no! proving to mary i sat through the entire game." you quipped back, sending the video to your girlfriend and pocketing your phone.

"oh sorry are we not up to your standards? do you only watch games at old trafford or wembley now?" your best friend cooed pinching your cheek sharply. "yes actually, or at least where they have actual toilet blocks and not portaloos." your face scrunched up with disgust.

"hey if you'd like to donate some money toward that we'd be very grateful, not every womens team gets funding you know." your best friend huffed as you frowned and squeezed her knee.

"i'm only teasing. you know i'm happy to be here, just wish i was watching you yell at people on the pitch and not at me for once!" you sighed as the girl scoffed and smacked you, she was normally the captain but was out in a boot having sprained her ankle last week.

"so where are you coming on the table?" you clarified, eyes set back on the match unfolding in front of you. "third, but its only the fourth round of the season. lots can change!" the brunette admitted as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence.

"okay no offence to you and your entire team but your keeper kept you all alive this game, it should be 5-0." you whistled as the second half started to wind down.

"of course you favour the keeper, what a shock!" your best friend drawled sarcastically with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew for full time and a 0-0 draw.

"hey just because my girlfriend is a golden glove holding, bbc sports personality of the year winning, world cup finalist and champion of europe with a tram named after her doesn't mean im bias to keepers!" you grinned holding your hands up as your best friend rolled your eyes.

"oh but you don't brag about her right." the girl mocked with a pout as your grin grew. "only to those who have no choice but to listen, i'd like to see you try and run away from me." you gently nudged your toe against her moon boot as she shoved you.

"you know you could always play with us next season! reallyyy make the girlfriend proud, i can see mary being a very loyal wag." the girl teased as you laughed sarcastically. "you couldn't afford my salary." you shrugged with a click of your tongue.

"more like we couldn't afford your two left feet and lack of hand eye coordination." the girl snickered gesturing for you to help her up. "yeah that too." you had no choice but to agree with a grimace, tugging her up and carefully helping her down toward the barrier.

you stood by as she gave a speech, commending the girls on their efforts as your phone buzzed and you looked down with a smile seeing it was a few messages from your girlfriend.

"god you're so in love its disgusting, get a grip!" you glanced back up and pocketed your phone, playfully punching your best friend in the arm as you waited for her to finish speaking with some of her team, having driven her to the game.

"you can tell us all about what we did wrong at training! stop making your poor mate wait around for you to run your mouth." the keeper from the game warned with a grin as she joined the small huddle you were in.

"you were perfect as per usual, only feedback is maybe score from the box next time? make the game a little spicy!" your best friend teased the taller girl who rolled her eyes. "no seriously you played great! that dive in injury time was textbook and that penalty save? world cup stuff." you complimented with a wide smile.

"and she'd know, her girlfriends played in one so thats high praise." your best friend interjected shoving your head playfully. "wait seriously? talk about a dream!" the girl exhaled with a whistle and a grin.

"well then since you clearly have a good eye for talent-" the girl paused to tug off her jersey, handing it to you with a grin before hugging the girls goodbye and heading off. "we best be off to, i'll see you all monday. i'll bring my whistle!" your best friend teased as the girls groaned, you waving goodbye as the two of you headed off to your car.

"i'd be leaving that in the car if you know whats good for you." your best friend nodded to the jersey on your back seat as you pulled a face and started up the car. "what! why?" you laughed as you drove off.

"umm because your girlfriend is a world class keeper and you just took a keepers jersey from someone else." your best friend hinted. "mary won't care! she's all for more girls wanting to be keepers and she loves the womens game." you rolled your eyes as your best friend only hummed, swiftly changing topics.

~

"maz? baby i'm home!" you called out as you let yourself in, unwrapping your scarf and hanging it up on the hook. "two seconds love!" you heard your girlfriend call out from the laundry as you took off your shoes.

"hello beautiful!" the brunette appeared with a grin, placing down a basket of clean laundry on the sofa and opening her arms as you melted into them. "you smell nice." you mumbled into her shoulder making the taller girl laugh.

"ah yes the wonders of soap and shampoo!" the keeper teased, kissing you hello before pulling away. "and she's doing laundry? house wife in the making over here!" you teased, smacking her playfully on the bum with a wink.

"oi! watch it cheeky." mary warned with a point, sitting down on the sofa as you leant over the back of it to peck her lips several times. "whats that babe?" mary noticed the jersey tucked into the back of your pants as you walked into the kitchen.

"oh! well the keeper of saf's team is like insane for the league level they play. i'm serious it could have been like twenty to nothing if she wasn't on her game. we were talking after the game and she gave me her jersey!" you shrugged, dropping the item onto the counter as you rummaged through the fridge, missing the look which crossed your girlfriends face.

"oh? thats nice." mary replied bluntly as you glanced at her with a small frown. "yeah it was." you shrugged it off, grabbing it and tossing it into the dirty basket of laundry.

"how was your afternoon?" you changed topics, grabbing out the stuff to make you and mary a cup of tea. "yeah fine, went shopping with tooney and had to make a last minute excuse to leave because she takes forever! so on the rare chance she asks, you're deathly ill and needed me back home." mary groaned dramatically, head thumping back against the sofa.

"like worse than you and thats saying something!" mary tutted as you made a noise of offence. "hey! if i have to sit in a sports store for two hours while you try on every fucking pair of gloves known to man and then buy none of them, you can carry my bags and sit on a comfy little waiting chair while i try a few outfits." you warned seriously as your girlfriend held her hands up in surrender.

"especially when some of those 'outfits' i spend hours trying on are for you." you hinted, handing her the mug of tea as a smug smile settled on the keepers lips.

"mm yeah we haven't been that sort of shopping for awhile, you free tomorrow baby?" mary grinned wolfishly as you flipped her off and settled into the section of the sofa that wasn't covered in laundry and flicking on the tv.

~

"change, put this on please babe." mary tugged on the bottom of your shirt, dropping a new item of clothing onto your head. "urgh mary!" you huffed, pulling it off and sending her a glare as she grinned at you with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"why do i need to change?" you noticed what she'd given you and asked with a knowing smile. "i don't like that shirt." mary shrugged pointing to your current top with her foot as she sat up on the counter brushing her teeth.

"its your shirt!" you laughed with a shake of your head. "then i want it back, so change." mary ordered, leaning over the sink and spitting. "what if i don't want to wear this?" you egged her on, holding up the jersey inbetween your fingers like it disgusted you.

"then go pick another one, theres about twenty or so in there you can choose from." mary shrugged nodding to her side of the closet where the jerseys she'd chosen to keep over the years hung proudly, rinsing out her mouth and stepping out of the bathroom.

"mmm i actually think i might go put on that jersey from today, saf's team just played so well." you stripped off your top and took a few steps back, watching your girlfriends eyes drop immediately to your chest.

"you know on second thoughts love i actually don't think you need to wear anything at all." you laughed as mary tackled you to the bed, attacking your face with kisses as you squealed and pushed her off. "you hate that i took that girls jersey today don't you?" you moved to sit on top of her with a grin.

"no!" mary rolled her eyes, reaching out for you as you grabbed her hands and pressed them into the mattress. "yes you are, admit it. you hate it, the thought of me wearing someone elses kit!" you teased with a smirk, pressing down her hands harder.

"okay well can you blame me? you're my girlfriend and you wear my jersey. nobody elses!" mary huffed with a frown as you smiled and leant down to kiss away her pout. "you're such a baby, its adorable." you mumbled against her lips.

"i am not! god you're such a wind up." mary pulled her hands free and flipped the two of you, hovering over you now as she ducked her head and started to gently kiss at your neck.

"and tomorrow the washing machine is going to malfunction and that girls jersey will sadly be gone."

[r0-boat]

*Free falls from the sky*

Hello there, I’m 🦩anon! I come from the land of being terrified to send asks but finally got the courage to when it comes to the hot demons from WHB

I absolutely loved your Mammon Headcanons (totally not because I go feral for him, and also loved the dark/more twisted ones)

Do you by chance have more? If not then that’s ok!

🦩

Let's get some very sweet headcannons I don't have a lot but I have a few of certain characters so here's a mess of them!

Wholesome what in hell is bad headcanons various demons

Gehanna eddition

Let's give some love to the nobles!

Belial

Your Belial's first love, You're the apple of his eye. He constantly daydreams about you. And he's always eager to go on cute dates with you.

Belial before he lost his voice was a very good singer now you can only hear little bits of it when he hums. Someone hadn't heard his voice in a long time so he's a little shy about his singing.

Belial is always staring, please don't mind him He just likes looking at you listening to your voice. You could talk for hours and he could listen. Only for him to respond 'I love you.'

Leraye

When he gives you gifts he always gives you stuffed animals.

Leraye will randomly text you just to remind you that you're beautiful and great and sexy and that he loves you. Sometimes you'll just send you texts or at a context photos throughout his day He just likes telling you about himself.

Leraye feeds stray cats every time You see him, He is surrounded by stray kitties purring and cuddling up to him as he's trying to feed them. He has the biggest smile on his face as he tries to give them all attention and food.

Paimon

Paimon always shares his food with you, It is His love language He doesn't let anyone else do it but you. Sometimes he'll order big sizes just so you can eat it together. Paimon will even feed you.

If you have feminine clothing paimon will ask to borrow it. If not Paimon will buy outfits to match with you. They even bought you two little keychains to match.

Paimon loves to do those couples challenges with you. every time they find a new one they get so happy and then text you sending you the link to it and asks if you want to do it with them the next time you come over.

Sitri

A very overworked demon as much as your heartbeat turns him on it also calms him down when he lays against your chest he starts falling asleep.

Sitri is very touch starved He loves when you calm your hands through his hair melting into your touch and when you pull away he whimpers asking why you stopped.

Yes he does get annoyed when Leraye is hogging your attention but to be honest he's kind of happy that Leraye And you get along so well he hopes he could take care of you and you can take care of him part of him kind of hope you will choose him. Leraye is it good demon.

Zagen

Zagen is a really good artist, when he's bored he doodles for fun and those doodles look like works of art. During a meeting Zagen and Belial started doodling on a piece of paper. Despite Belial's crappy drawings Zagen says they're absolutely amazing and Belial should draw more so now they draw together! Zagen Even teaches Belial some art techniques and he's getting better Zagen is so proud! Leraye and Zagen still go to the gym together.

Zagen even though his rank is lower he still feels like a big brother to all of the other devils. He's very stoic protective yet caring and sweet. Zagen is a gentle giant. He may look scary but he's actually pretty shy. One compliment and his face is turning red, trying to hide that blushing face.

Zagen always reminds you to eat, He wants you to be strong by eating healthy. He knows how to cook because he makes his own healthy meals. You will never go hungry when he's around and he is happy to cook for you.

Astaroth

Instead of texting which he does do sometimes, He sends letters to you. Some of them are rather... Spicy, but all of them are filled with poetic and lovely words that make your heart flutter. It feels as though you are in the middle ages getting a love letter from your beloved fiance. Every word drips with love and you could practically feel the emotion on the paper. He even puts a little wax stamp on it before sending it to you the letter isn't an envelope smelling of his cologne.

Astaroth imagine is himself as the main character and you as love interest when he reads romantic novels. You can't help but imagine the two of you in those lovely situations sometimes he even writes it himself.

When he does text you he pours his heart out in a longing text. Telling you how much he longs for you. How his heart aches when he's not near you. How he feels as though he has lost without your touch. He knows just what to make you swoon.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (14/?)

Part Summary: Leigh reconciles with Jules and then receives news from Danny that could potentially disrupt her new beginning with you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.200+ | Warnings: Spicy phone call | Author's note: The date will happen in the next one, and then after that, 1-2 chapters to wrap up this series :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII

-

The date doesn't happen as quickly as Leigh expected. You don’t bring it up again for several days after your grand, against-all-odds declaration of love.

In the meantime, you text constantly. Sometimes you call, just to ask about her day. The first time, she’s so confused, waiting for the real reason behind your call. But there isn’t one—you simply wanted to talk, and texting wouldn’t do it.

She’s rarely on the phone with anyone these days. For her, phone calls are usually reserved for urgent requests from Drew or her mom, or from companies trying to sell her something. The last time she was on the phone just to talk was with Matt, during the stretches when work kept them apart for days. Before that, it was high school, chatting with friends and boyfriends about everything and nothing.

Talking to you on the phone feels like stepping back in time. There’s something intimate about it, something that modern-day texting can’t capture. She finds herself looking forward to your calls, the sound of your voice at the end of a long, tiring, or listless day.

Days stretch into a week before you finally ask her out, armed with the when and where. Leigh will never admit it to anyone, but the wait is excruciating.

The butterflies swarm in her stomach as she lies on her bed, fresh from a shower, in an oversized shirt and boy shorts, biting at her fingernails. She's already restless by the time her phone rings at the usual hour.

She picks up almost immediately, trying to keep her voice as blasé as she can manage. “Hey.”

“Hey, Leigh,” you reply breathily, not realizing how that tone makes Leigh press the phone harder against her ear, as if she wants to hear more of it. “How was your day?”

She rolls onto her back, stretching her hand out and drawing patterns in the air against the ceiling. 

“It was okay. Nothing too exciting. How about yours?” she says.

“Pretty good. Just busy with work stuff. I was thinking about you, though.”

The simple statement sends a new wave of warmth through her. “Is that so?”

“Very much so,” you whisper, and Leigh can almost see your smile, just like the one forming on her lips. “So, uh, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” Leigh prompts, her heart picking up speed. She hears some shuffling on your end and waits with bated breath.

“Maybe we should finally go on that date,” you suggest,  hopeful and a bit nervous. 

Leigh’s heart leaps, and she tears the phone away from her ear, burying her face into her pillow as a squeal escapes before she can contain it. Catching herself, she quickly schools her expression, tosses the pillow aside, and sits up ramrod straight.

“We should,” Leigh blurts out, still feeling her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. “When were you thinking?”

“How about this Saturday?”

Leigh pauses, mentally counting—one, two, three—before replying, “Great. I’m free then.” 

Wanting to lock in the details, she asks, “What time?”

“Could I, um, have you for the whole day?” you ask hesitantly, and then quickly realizing how it sounded, you clarify, “I mean, could we make it a day-long date? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Leigh hums, pretending to mull it over, but inside, she's practically screaming yes.

“What do you have planned?”

“It's a surprise,” you reply, the playful secrecy in your tone drawing a grin from Leigh. 

Unable to contain her intrigue, Leigh tries to coax out some clues. “Anything you need from me? Dress code? Anything I can help you with?”

“No, just be yourself,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more intimate cadence. “Wear whatever makes you feel most like you. You're beautiful in anything.”

Leigh feels a warm blush spread across her cheeks. She's grateful you can't see her, can't see how your words reduce her to a pile of mush.

“In anything?” she asks coyly.

“Or nothing,” you whisper back, almost without thinking.

Leigh nearly chokes on her breath at that, biting her lip to stifle a moan that threatens to escape owing to the boldness of your flirtation. She doesn't immediately realize she's drifted into a stunned silence until you apologize, worrying that you might have crossed a line. 

“I'm sorry if that was too forward,” you say.

Leigh shakes herself, trying to clear the haze of memories—the soft moans, the way your body yielded to her touch that night. “No, it’s... I still think about that night,” she shares.

“O-Oh?” you stammer, your grip tightening around the phone. You're driving home with one hand, thinking it would be a short call. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, you quickly pull over to the side of an empty street, realizing you might not make it home safely if you don't.

“What do you... think about, specifically?” you venture, slowly unbuckling your seatbelt.

It’s as if a switch has been flipped in her. Her mind races back to that night—the way you touched yourself under her gaze, how she guided your movements, the feel of her finger inside you while she rode your thigh. 

“Leigh?”

Leigh's breath hitches, and she feels heat spreading through her body. She kicks off the covers, finding herself lying flat on the bed, her fingers inching teasingly at the hem of her shorts. She closes her eyes, letting the memory of that night trickle into the forefront of her mind.

“I think about the way you looked under me,” she says softly, “The flush of your skin, the sounds you made, how your lips felt against mine.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine. “Leigh,” you murmur, “I-I think about that night too. How you took control, how you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.”

Leigh's fingers slip beneath the waistband of her shorts, teasing herself as she remembers the feel of your skin against hers. “I remember guiding your hands,” she continues, her voice growing huskier. “Watching you touch yourself, seeing the pleasure in your eyes. It was intoxicating.”

You can hear the desire in her voice, and it sends a surge of arousal through you. “I remember the way you moved against me,” you reply, your voice low. “Your skin was so hot against mine, it felt like I was on fire.”

As Leigh's fingers dip lower, brushing against the wetness between her legs, she gasps. She tries to contain it but fails, letting out a guttural moan—a sound of pure want—right into your ear. The rawness of that sound snaps you out of your lust-filled reverie.

“Fuck, are you... are you touching yourself? I-I'm so—” you start, your voice shaking.

“Don't apologize. Just keep talking. It's okay,” Leigh cuts you off sharply, switches the phone to speaker mode, and swiftly removes her panties. For a brief second, she thinks she probably shouldn't be doing this, not before the date they'd just planned. But the overwhelming urge washes over her, making rational thoughts blur into the background. She can't control herself; she needs to come, needs you to make her come.

“Tell me what you'd do,” she chunters, no longer concerned about sounding needy. “Please.” 

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly connecting your phone to your car’s speakers and then tossing it onto the passenger seat. You then adjust the driver's seat to give yourself more legroom and hurriedly begin to unbutton your jeans. Though you're embarrassed to admit that you've never had phone sex before, you're not about to let inexperience stop you. Not when Leigh was practically purring in your ear, begging for it.

“Y/N?” Leigh’s voice rumbles through the confined space of your car and you hurriedly close your eyes as you formulate a response, your head buzzing with several things you want to do to Leigh at once.

“I'd start by kissing you,” you begin, your voice low and deliberate, though you feel a bit foolish at the tentative start. “Soft, teasing kisses, tracing a path down your body. I'd take my time, Leigh, tasting every inch of your skin.”

“Where would you kiss me first?” Leigh breathes.

“Your neck,” you reply, your fingers brushing against your own skin as if you’re tracing the path your lips would take on hers. “I’d kiss right behind your ears…then down your throat, lingering at your collarbone.”

Leigh’s breathing becomes more ragged, and you can almost feel her anticipation. “And then?”

“Then I’d kiss my way down to your breasts,” you say, your own arousal building. “I’d take each nipple in my mouth, sucking gently, then harder, feeling them harden against my tongue. I’d circle my tongue around them, flicking the tip, just like so.”

Leigh listens, her breaths becoming shallow, her body trembling with need. She closes her eyes, lost in the sensation, in the vividness of your description. She traps a rosy bud between her two fingers, mimicking the rhythm you describe, the tension in her belly coiling more tightly.

Meanwhile, your own hands are busy on your body. Despite the cramped space even with the car seat reclined, you manage to slide two fingers inside your pants, rubbing your clit, while your other hand tweaks your nipple.

A soft moan escapes Leigh’s lips, and you know she’s imagining your mouth on her. “I’d keep moving lower, kissing down your stomach, tracing the lines of your body with my tongue. When I finally reach your thighs, I’d spread them open and kiss the inside, so close to where you want me but not quite there yet.”

“I’d breathe you in,” you murmur, “taking a moment to just enjoy the scent of you. Then I’d lick, just once, a slow, teasing lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, tasting how wet you are for me.”

“Fuck,” Leigh groans wantonly, her fingers undoubtedly mirroring your words on her own skin. You can almost see her hand moving against her clitoris, fingers collecting her own wetness and spreading it all over until her inner thighs are glistening with it.

“I’d part you with my fingers,” you continue, your own breath coming faster now, “and then I’d dive in. I’d lap at you, my tongue moving in slow circles around your clit, feeling it swell under my tongue. I’d drink you in, Leigh, tasting every drop, getting lost in how sweet you are.”

“Don’t stop,” Leigh pants, and you can hear her movements quickening, the unmistakable sound of wetness and skin in frantic motion, as if she's placed her phone near the epicenter of her impending climax.

“I wouldn’t,” you promise. “I’d suck on your clit, gently at first, then harder, using my tongue to drive you crazy. I’d slide a finger inside you, curling it to find that perfect spot, the one that makes you see stars. I’d keep licking and sucking, adding another finger, thrusting them in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue. I wouldn’t stop until I felt you trembling, until I heard you crying out my name as you came.”

Leigh’s moans grow louder, more desperate, and you can almost see her, writhing on her bed, lost in pleasure. “Y/N, I’m close,” she gasps.

“I’d be looking up at you, watching your face as you c-come for m-me,” you say, your voice faltering as you slide a finger inside yourself. “Fuck, Leigh, baby, come for me.”

It's the endearment and the mental image of your deep brown eyes, brimming with hunger and worship, that sends her spiraling into ecstasy.

“Oh god, Y/N!” Leigh moans, her back curving as an intense orgasm overtakes her.

You’re not there yet, but you close your eyes, letting the image of her climax burn into your mind.

Leigh lies there, basking in the afterglow, her body still trembling with the remnants of her orgasm. She’s about to check in on you, perhaps return the favor, when the front door opens and closes with a bang.

“Mom? Leigh?” Jules yells from the living room.

Panic surges through Leigh. She scrambles to her feet, hurriedly pulling on her underwear and shorts. The phone slips from her grasp, landing on the bed, the line still open.

Leigh reaches the top of the stairs, breathless and flushed, just as Jules appears at the bottom, looking up with a mix of worry and curiosity. 

“What's going on?” Leigh asks, wincing as she feels the stickiness between her thighs. She silently curses, wishing Jules could have shown up after she had a chance to shower.

“Where’s Mom?” Jules demands, her eyes scanning the hallway. “And Logan?”

“She took him with her for a grocery run,” Leigh replies, coming down the stairs. “Is something wrong?”

Jules sighs. “I was just worried. The door was unlocked, and I couldn’t find anyone. Thought something might’ve happened.”

Leigh relaxes a bit, though the adrenaline from moments before still courses through her veins. “It’s fine. I just didn’t realize you’d be coming home tonight,” she says.

“Yeah, about that…” Jules trails off, tilting her head toward the kitchen with a meaningful glance. 

Leigh follows, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floorboards. Striving for nonchalance, she asks, “You hungry?” Her hand hovers over the fridge handle, betraying none of her recent distractions.

Jules stops in her tracks and turns back to Leigh. “I’ve been thinking,” she starts, hesitating slightly. “I’d like to move back in.”

“That’s… great,” Leigh says flatly, unsuspecting of her sister’s announcement. She catches the sharp drop of Jules’ brows and hurries to cushion her words. “I mean, we never actually wanted you to go. You’re welcome back anytime, you know that.”

Jules' eyes sharpen, her lips pulling into a tight line. “But only if we talk first.”

Leigh nods, a hard lump forming in her throat. “Of course,” she says.

-

They end up ordering take-out when Leigh's nose wrinkles at the unmistakable stench wafting from the numerous boxes of leftovers crammed in the fridge. She can't recall how long they've been there, only that their rightful place is now the trash bin.

It's Jules who picks the restaurant, and Leigh bites her tongue over the choice of Vietnamese. The last time they'd ordered from there, Jules had barely picked at her food, pushing noodles around her plate more than eating them. Leigh tries not to think too much about it.

The dining table is overtaken by a clutter of takeout boxes, each one wafting a blend of lemongrass and ginger into the room—a scent so rich you could almost scoop it out of the air. Leigh watches her sister with that look—the one that's all walls and wariness, like she’s guarding the last piece of herself she can’t afford to lose.  Jules, on her part, looks a little restless, her fingers skirting the edges of a white takeout box like it might offer some kind of sanctuary.

“So, talk,” Leigh prompts,  twirling her chopsticks to pick up a fresh vegetable roll and dipping it into peanut sauce.

Jules takes a breath, a deep one. When she meets Leigh’s eyes, it’s with a resolve that seems to pull her upright. “Fine, since I’m the one who kicked this off, I’ll lead. I’m sorry. I know I tossed around some pretty nasty words last time I stormed out, and I meant them—then. But calling you a sociopath? That was me going off the deep end.”

Leigh’s face hardens, a quick, involuntary tightening of her features as she recalls the sting of that last confrontation. She pushes her noodles around her box, the chopsticks clattering softly. Jules waits, the steam from her own untouched meal rising and disappearing into the air.

“I appreciate your apology, Jules, really, I do. But you can't just throw words like that around, whether you mean them or not. Words stick. They fester,” Leigh says, meeting Jules’ gaze squarely. 

Jules looks down, tries to mask the hurt that flickers across her face, biting down on her lip. 

Leigh continues, “When I criticize you, it’s not meant as an attack. I’m not someone who likes to beat around the bush, especially not with family.”

The word ‘family’ hits differently this time—at least for Jules it does. Her heart aches at the mention, dragging up memories of a recent painful conversation where she had confessed to feeling like an outsider in her own family.

“Sometimes it's not about what you say but how you say it,” Jules mutters.

Leigh looks at her expectantly, clueless and curious at the same time.

“Not everyone can handle being talked to so bluntly. Not everyone’s as frank as you, okay? Sometimes it feels more like you're pushing me away instead of trying to help.”

Leigh goes quiet, letting the silence stretch just a bit before she nods. “You’re right,” she concedes, the words slipping out almost thoughtfully. It’s almost surprising, the lack of her usual quick-fire defense. “I think I got so wrapped up in the idea that being honest meant being harsh. I can work on that. I should work on that.”

Jules blinks, taken aback by the calm acceptance in Leigh’s tone, the ease with which she receives the criticism. It’s a side of Leigh she hasn’t seen much of—this reflective, almost gentle version. It's a welcome change, a sign of growth that feels both sudden and deeply necessary. 

“I didn’t expect... I mean, I’m glad you took that the way you did,” Jules says.

Leigh gives a small, almost sheepish smile, a rarity on her usually stoic face. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how I say things, not just what I say. It’s been... a lot to unpack. But hearing this from you, it really helps. It does.”

She means it. Ever since you’ve stubbornly eased your way into her life, she’s done a lot of thinking. She’s done a lot of grieving too, realizing that if she had seen the changes that needed to be made earlier, things might have been different for her—for Matt. She’s learned to accept that life is always going to be filled with regrets, but she’s grateful now to recognize that she still has the chance to change, even if it came a little too late.

Better late than never, right?

She looks at Jules, her eyes earnest and a little bit haunted. “I’m sorry, Jules, for everything I said, everything I made you feel. I love you. You’re my sister, always. I know I can be too hard on the people who mean the most to me, but I’m going to try, really try, to balance that love, to understand how you need to be loved.”

Jules sits frozen, speechless for the first time. Their confrontations usually spiral into heated exchanges until one of them storms off. She hadn't expected this to be so... civil and mature. 

So unlike them. 

Finally, she manages a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, this... this went way better than I played it out in my head.”

Leigh’s laughter is a quick splash of reprieve, a burst of surprise at how well things have turned.  But it fades as quickly as it bloomed, her smile slipping into a frown as she catches the shadow creeping over Jules’s face. 

“What is it?”

Jules fidgets, nervously twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I... need to ask you something that’s been eating at me for months... well, almost a year now. And I need you to be brutally honest with me, Leigh. Can you promise that?”

Leigh feels a slight tremor of worry, but brushes it off and nods. “You’re scaring me, but sure. I promise.”

“Here we go,” Jules says, taking a deep, faltering breath. “Remember that night? When I was so drunk you had to come and get me? It was the last night Matt was... before he... you know. Do you ever resent me for it? I did such a horrible thing, robbing you of his last moments because I couldn't keep it together—”

“You know I’ve never blamed you for that. Not during our last fight, not when Matt died, just... never, basically,” Leigh says, leaning back on her chair.

“But some part of you must have hated me, because—”

“No—”

“—maybe he needed someone.”

Leigh just shrugs and denies it which only frustrates Jules even more. “No, Leigh,” she tries, “I need you to listen to me. I was very drunk that night—”

“You were really drunk a lot of nights and you’ve done a lot of crappy things,” Leigh states frankly. “But none of them had anything to do with Matt’s death.”

Jules swallows hard, her eyes stinging. “But what if it did, though?”

Leigh, clearly frustrated, responds, “You really think that?”

Jules looks down at the table and stays silent.

“Jules,” Leigh sighs, searching for the right words to reassure her sister. Eventually, she opts for honesty. “Look, I can’t tell you how to feel, but that’s not how I feel. Okay?”

It takes a second longer for Jules to say, “Okay.”

Leigh stares intently at her sister, noting the way Jules's eyes avoid contact. She knows the soft okay from Jules isn't a signal of acceptance or peace, but a white flag in a battle mostly with herself. Jules is grappling with her own guilt, a feeling that has little to do with Leigh but still consumes her. Leigh wishes, not for the first time, that her sister could see the truth as easily as she reads into misconceptions. It’s the same thing she wishes for herself.

Feeling slightly vindicated to have aired her feelings, Jules turns her attention back to the food spread between them. She reaches for her bánh mì, grips it firmly, and takes a hearty bite. As she chews thoughtfully, she manages a muffled, “Thanks, Leigh.”

Leigh just offers a small, understanding smile.

As they continue eating, Jules suddenly grins, crumbs dotting the corners of her mouth. “You're probably wondering why we're having Vietnamese tonight,” she says.

Leigh raises an eyebrow, curious despite herself. “I was wondering.”

Jules chews quickly, then, with her mouth still full, blurts out, “Well, I've got one more piece of news for you.”

-

It’s almost midnight when Leigh returns to her bedroom. 

As soon as her eyes land on her cellphone, carelessly tossed on the sheets, guilt floods her. She remembers she didn’t even say goodbye to you. Horrified, she realizes she left you hanging, high and dry.

She grabs her phone, her heart pounding in her chest, and checks for any messages from you. The screen lights up, but there are no new notifications, no missed calls.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” she mutters to herself, running a hand through her hair. She takes a deep breath and dials your number, her fingers trembling slightly as she presses the call button.

It rings once, twice, and then you answer. “Leigh?”

“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?” Leigh asks, picking up on the sleepiness in your voice.

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

She lets out a relieved sigh before rushing into an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. Jules came home and then I—”

“It’s okay, Leigh,” you whisper soothingly, grateful that she called you back at all.

That doesn’t alleviate Leigh's guilt, though. She racks her brain for a way to make amends. 

“Can we… Can we pick up where we left off?” she suggests hesitantly.

You let out a kind chuckle. “I’d like that. But maybe we should save it for… later. Honestly, that was a bit reckless, Leigh.”

Leigh's brow furrows, even though you can't see it. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“I want to do this right,” you explain earnestly. “If taking things slow helps us build something real, then I’m willing to wait.”

“Well, clearly patience hasn’t been my strong suit either,” Leigh admits, her lips curving into a grin at your attempt to be chivalrous.

“I know,” you whisper, traces of a smile audible in your voice. “But I didn’t want you to think that’s all I’m after. And believe me, I want you—it’s driving me crazy.” 

Leigh runs her tongue along her teeth, feeling the familiar tug of desire low in her belly.

“I just don't want us to get so caught up in the physical stuff that we miss out on really getting to know each other,” you say.

“Me neither,” Leigh agrees, tucking the blankets up under her chin, pretending it's you keeping her warm.

“While I obviously enjoyed our…conversation earlier,” you say, pausing to maintain your composure. You can still hear the echo of Leigh's moans in your car, the memory likely to revisit you on sleepless nights in the coming days. “I'm really looking forward to diving deeper into things, like your favorite book, on Saturday.”

“Maybe I'll bring you a whole list,” she teases.

“Guess I’ll have to find that library card I signed up for then,” you joke.

“A library card, huh? Dork,” she retorts affectionately.

You feign a wounded tone, “Ouch.”

The laughter that follows is light and easy. You sigh contentedly and say, “I should probably call it a day. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Leigh.” I love you. “See you on Saturday.”

The call ends with both of you reluctantly hanging up, smiles fixed on your faces as you lie back. Leigh is an addictive rush, coursing through your veins like adrenaline. You've excused yourself out of habit for sleeping early, but you doubt you’re going to get much sleep tonight.

-

Leigh nudges open the door to the crowded bistro tucked near the Basically News office. It’s the thick of lunch hour, and the place pulses with the chatter of midday patrons. It’s exactly the sort of public, non-intimate setting you'd want for meeting an ex. She weaves through the crowded room, spotting Danny at a corner table, his focus tethered to his phone as he absently taps on the screen.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Danny looks up, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. “You know, I could’ve just dropped by your house later.”

Leigh shakes her head. “It's better to meet somewhere public from now on.”

His expression darkens, and he scoffs. “Why? So Y/N doesn’t get jealous?”

Leigh leans back, crossing her arms. “Yes,” she says, deliberately blunt.

Danny's jaw sets, a muscle twitching slightly, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he reaches into his bag and retrieves a folder, sliding it across the table toward Leigh. “Matt’s publisher wants to release his comic posthumously,” he starts, “but there are strings attached.”

Interest sparks in Leigh's eyes as she opens the folder, her eyes quickly scanning the contract. 

“What kind of strings?” she asks.

“They want either you or me—or both of us—to join a group of artists to promote the comic—”

“That sounds fair and exciting,” Leigh interjects a bit too soon.

“—across the country,” Danny finishes, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance. “It’s a tour, Leigh.”

Leigh's fingers stall at the edge of the paper, the reality of the proposition sinking in. 

“A tour?” she echoes.

“Yeah,” Danny nods. He flags down a waiter and orders a beer. “Early next year. Matt’s comic is in the final stages of editing, and it should be finalized in about three weeks. They’re aiming for a release in February, and the tour will follow right after that.”

“That sounds soon,” Leigh remarks. “How long is the tour supposed to last?”

“About two months,” Danny replies. “We'll be traveling across different states, attending conventions, signing autographs, meeting fans. It’s a big commitment.”

“We?”

Danny shrugs, the hurt briefly flickering across his face before he can hide it. “Yeah, we. Though I'm not sure I can join because of the new job in Vegas. There's a good chance you might be doing this solo.” His attempt at nonchalance doesn't quite cover the sting of her reaction—how distant the concept of 'we' seems to her.

Leigh chews on her lip, her thoughts drifting to her own commitments—her column, her classes at the Beautiful Beast, and you. The idea of leaving all that behind, even for just a few months, feels like too great a sacrifice.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she says, pushing the folder back towards Danny. 

“He deserves this kind of recognition,” Danny implores, as if suggesting that Leigh thinks otherwise.

“I'm aware,” she snaps back, “I just need a bit of time to think it through, to sort out the schedules and everything.”

Danny raises his hands in mock surrender, indicating he doesn't want to escalate the argument. But Leigh knows him well enough to see through it—it’s a tactic. Danny has a way of guilting her into decisions without saying much, letting assumptions and insinuations simmer until Leigh finds herself making the choice he wants.

Leigh stands up, slipping the folder into her bag. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” Danny says with a tight nod. “Just don’t drag your feet. The publishers are waiting on an answer soon.”

-

Saturday comes soon, but not soon enough.

All week, relentless rain showers have scattered across the days, and though the forecast promises sunshine today, Leigh wakes up to the soft splattering of rain against her window. The gentle patter seeps into her consciousness, easing her from sleep. The room is filled with a cool, damp scent, and is bathed in a soft, diffused light as the morning sun is muted behind thick clouds. 

Leigh gropes blindly beneath the pillow to her left, retrieving her phone and squinting at the time. It’s 9:30 AM. She blinks, trying to shake the sleep from her mind, and her heart drops slightly as she notices five missed calls from you, each one timestamped progressively: 7:45, 7:55, 8:15, 8:30, and finally 8:45.

Guilt twists in her chest. She sits up, brushing sleep from her eyes, and dials your number back, hoping she hasn’t missed something important. 

You answer on the first ring. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Leigh sighs, running a hand through her tousled hair. “Yeah, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I just woke up. What's going on?”

“It’s Saturday,” you say rather awkwardly. “We had plans to meet this morning, remember?”

Leigh sits up, suddenly fully awake. She’s been looking forward to Saturday all week, eagerly anticipating this date. The realization that she slept through most of the morning fills her with shame. She’s been so restless the past few days, and it was only the gloomy, sleepy weather last night that finally allowed her to get some decent rest.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep, but since it’s an all-day affair, I thought we could start with breakfast,” you continue, breaking the silence that had been filled only with Leigh’s soft breathing.

“Where are you now?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment before replying, “I’m actually parked outside your house.”

Fuck. Shit. Damn it.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, uhm, can you give me five minutes?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Leigh ends the call and throws off the covers, scrambling to get dressed. She rushes to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and running a brush through her hair, muttering curses under her breath. Her hands tremble slightly as she picks out an outfit, the anticipation of the day ahead propelling her forward.

As she heads for the door, a small smile forms on her lips. This might not have been the flawless beginning she imagined, but just knowing you’re on the other side makes it perfect already.

[petite-phthora]

They don't even have dental

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 15]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

Private chat nicknames:

RedHood = Jason

Danny = Danny

---

Danny and Ellie are both on their way to Danny’s apartment. Both flying invisibly while in ghost form with Danny holding onto Ellie’s hand to lead the way to his apartment without losing her.

As they’re flying, the silence gets broken by Ellie. She smacks her lips a few times and lets out a thoughtful hum.

“Mmmm… it’s spicy”

“What? What’s spicy?”

“Red Hood”

“Red Hood?”

“Yeah, his blood. It’s got some twang to it… not too bad to be fair, could use some more kick though” Ellie says with a shrug.

At this point, they’ve reached Danny’s apartment. They enter through the wall, both becoming visible and transforming back, landing on the floor.

Danny levels Ellie with an eyebrow raise he learned from Jazz, though hers is still better.

“Right…” He shakes his head, deciding not to ask. He asks her another couple of questions instead.

“So, care to tell me what you’re doing here in Gotham chewing on the local vigilantes? You know to only bite people in self-defense, when they’re assholes, or with consent, so what made you bite Red Hood?

“What are you even doing in Gotham for that matter? I thought the plan was to stay in Mexico for another week before moving onto Peru?”

He looks at her, eyebrow still raised and arms crossed. The look on his face is neither mad nor annoyed, just curious.

“Would you believe me if I told you I just came to give a surprise visit to my darling involuntary DNA donor?” She asks, putting her hands together in a pleading gesture and batting her eyes with a pout.

“… Well, not if you say it like that…” Danny says with a slight frown.

Ellie pouts before shrugging. “Worth a shot.”

She looks at Danny, seeing he’s still leveling her with a look, and lets out a long dramatic sigh. While sighing, she slinks down onto the floor dramatically.

“Fineeeeee” She draws out, lying flat on the floor.

“But, if you’d had a wider vocabulary you’d know I already told you about what I’m doing here!” She says in an accusatory tone, finger pointing at Danny for good measure.

She then crosses her arms and closes her eyes.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t understand me.”

Danny uncrosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

“Not everyone has followed Clockworks ‘Cryptic messaging 101’ course.” He says.

“They should, it was really informative.”

Ellie sits upright with another sigh.

“All I’m doing is testing if he’s good enough for you.” She says.

“If who is good enough for me?”

“If that vigilante boyfriend of yours deserves to date my mold. “ She pauses. “My stencil? Framework? Blueprint?” Ellie trails off, finger on her chin.

“Just call me brother, that’s easier” Danny cuts in.

Ellie waves him off, unconcerned.

“Anyway, he needs to prove himself, his worth, and for that, I’m setting up multiple challenges. If he succeeds them all, he’s got my blessings and is free to date you, if both of you so wish.

“But if he fails…” Ellie trails off. She puts her hands together, a feral grin on her face.

Danny doesn’t bat an eye.

“So what, you came back from Mexico earlier than planned to haze the guy I’m dating?”

“Mhmm!” Ellie nods enthusiastically in response, the feral look from before gone as if it was never there.

“And biting him was just another one of these challenges?” He continues.

“Yup! He passed, by the way, flying colors” Ellie says.

“Do I get to know what exactly you scored him on and what you were testing him for at that moment?”

“Do you want to know?”

Danny pauses.

“You know what… Nah, I’m good.”

Ellie nods along, “A wise decision.”

“Well, since your plans were kinda last-minute, do you need a place to stay?” Danny asks.

“I don’t really have a guest bedroom, apartments too small for that, but the couch is very comfy. 8/10 sleeping spot. Some points get docked ‘cause it still smells like the marinara sauce I spilled on there when I first moved in.” He shrugs.

Ellie shakes her head in response. She stands up, dusting off her pants as she does so, as she replies.

“Nah, no need to worry about me. I’ve got it handled, already found a place to crash for the foreseeable future.” She pauses.

“Though I will raid your ice cream stash. As payment.” Ellie says as she turns around and moves towards Danny’s kitchen where she immediately starts rooting through his freezer.

“Payment? For what? Being a feral little shit and biting my boy— I mean my uh, partner-friend?” Danny asks, not really making any move to stop her from taking his food.

Ellie pretends to not have noticed the slip-up.

“No.” She rolls her eyes. “Payment for being an awesome Fright Knight for His Majesty,” She says, giving him a mocking bow while clutching a tub of ice cream to her chest with one arm.

Danny rolls his eyes right back at her.

“I’m not even king yet.” He denies “Just the Crown Prince. Still have to wait till I’m an elder in ghost years before they can force me on the throne, luckily.”

He then raises an eyebrow at her again.

“And I’m pretty sure the position of Fright Knight is not a paid position”

Ellie gasps dramatically.

“Are you saying you don’t pay your workers, My Liege? Blasphemy!” She sticks the spoon she grabbed from his drawer in the air, still clutching the ice cream tub with her other arm.

“Next you’re gonna tell me we don’t have dental” She scoffs.

Danny thinks for a second.

“Well, uh…”

This elicits another dramatic gasp from Ellie.

“No! I can’t believe it! My very own template, a tyrant! The very thing he destroyed to get where he currently is in the first place” She pretends to almost faint, swaying for a few steps with the hand that’s holding the spoon dramatically on her forehead.

She closes her eyes with a fake sorrowful expression on her face.

“Well, you know what they say. You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.”

She sadly shakes her head.

 “Wait till I tell Sam about your authoritarian leadership,” She says, looking at Danny with narrowed eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you used the word authoritarian wrong, but I don’t know enough about English to dispute you” Danny shrugs.

Ellie sticks out her tongue at him. Danny just rolls his eyes.

“Just take the ice cream as payment then, Fright Ellie? Ellie Knight?” Danny pauses.

“It’s Sir Ellie the Frightful or Sir Ellie of the Infinite Realms,” Ellie says helpfully.

“Right.” Danny nods along. “And I’ll ask Clockwork and Frostbite about the dental stuff, alright?”

Ellie cheers and starts floating. She begins stuffing her face with the ice cream. In between bites, she speaks up again.

“If I don’t hear back about dental within a month, I’m gonna assume you’ve gone full-on tyrant and I’ll start a revolution to dethrone you.” She says with a self-assured nod.

“Not like you’ll have to do a lot of effort for your recruiting, most of them already like you more than me anyway,” Danny replies.

Ellie cackles, by now floating upside down with the ice cream. Once she’s done she speaks up again.

“Hah! Heh… Well, anyway, I’ve got some challenges to prepare. See ya, Mr. Polar Bear!”

Danny’s cheeks flush a little.

“You were there?!”

All he gets in response is another round of cackles as Ellie flies full-speed through the wall of his apartment with the ice cream and spoon, turning invisible once outside.

---

It’s the next day when Danny unlocks his phone to a message from the private chat group with Red Hood.

---

Private chat

~ RedHood changed the name of Danny to Kangaroo ~

RedHood: There, that’s better.

Kangaroo: hey!! 😲

Kangaroo: I’m not the kangaroo here 😠😠

Kangaroo: like, I was the one who said it!!!

Kangaroo: I said it to you 🫵

Kangaroo: so you’re the kangaroo here 😤

Kangaroo: if anything, I’m the polar bear 😌

Kangaroo: cause of like

Kangaroo: y’know

Kangaroo: yesterday? 🙃

Kangaroo: y’know seeing you reading my messages without replying is kinda nerve racking 😅😓

Kangaroo: not gonna lie

Kangaroo: Red Hood?... 😟

~ RedHood changed the name of Kangaroo to PolarBear ~

~ RedHood changed their name to Kangaroo ~

Kangaroo: This better, Mister ‘I’m the polar bear’?

---

Danny smiles down at his phone for a second before replying. His cheeks are slightly pink.

He really likes Hood…

---

PolarBear: perfect 😊

Kangaroo: Good.

Kangaroo: Now, I actually messaged you because I wanted to discuss the next date :)

Kangaroo: If you’d still like to go.

PolarBear: yes!

PolarBear: of course I still want to go 😊

PolarBear: does this Saturday afternoon work for you?

Kangaroo: Yep, that works.

PolarBear: great!

PolarBear: but!! ☝️

PolarBear: this time I get to plan the date 😤😌

PolarBear: like, the second part of the date

PolarBear: after tp-ing that manor 😁😇

PolarBear: cause you planned the last date

PolarBear: so I wanna plan this one 🙃

PolarBear: if that’s cool with you too?

Kangaroo: That’s fine by me, Love :)

Kangaroo: How about I pick you up around 3pm this Saturday, I’ll bring us to Wayne Manor, and then for the second part of the date I’ll drive us there with you giving me directions.

PolarBear: sounds good to me!

Kangaroo: Great, see you then :)

PolarBear: see ya! 👋

PolarBear: oh!!

PolarBear: also

PolarBear: feel like I should warn you that you might be seeing Ellie some more in the near future 😅

PolarBear: apparently she’s trying to see if you’re gonna ‘treat me right’ and all that 🤔 🤔

PolarBear: and so she has some challenges or something prepared to make you prove your worth???

PolarBear: the biting thing was a part of that apparently 🤷

PolarBear: but you passed that challenge with flying colors btw 😊👍

PolarBear: anyway

PolarBear: good luck! and I’ll see you on Saturday 👋🙃

---

Danny turned off his phone with a smile.

Now, let’s plan that date.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm

[writingjourney]

Benedict x fem!reader fic preview anyone?

It will be a cute 4+1 times situation with some wholesome (and spicy!!!) moments during their engagement period.

EDIT: FIND THE FULL FIC HERE!! OR ON AO3 ✌🏼

─── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ───

He stops, leans against the frame of the open door to the drawing room and drinks you in. The pianoforte is angled away from the open windows, your back turned to him. Bare skin shimmers in the sunlight, diffused by sheer white curtains that stream dreamily in the mild breeze. He follows the line of your shoulders where they rise and fall as your hands dance across the keys, then up the curve of your spine where your neck is exposed under pinned-up hair. The music seems to carry the easy with which you hold yourself.

He notes that your maid is not with you, a sign that the staff is kept busy with the wedding preparations. Or perhaps you sent her away as you are prone to do, craving solitude – and opportunities to meet him. Benedict finds himself chasing these moments in which he gets to have you to himself like they’re his sanctuary, so precious that he has to pile them up with care like gemstones in the shrine of his love for you. One day soon he will be able to display them more openly. For now he has to grasp them as they appear.

You only hear him when his steps have reached so close that not even the rugs can muffle them anymore. A few weeks ago you might have been startled by him appearing out of nowhere but by now it is rather natural that he should find you when you are alone. It seems he has a sense for it.

When you look up he is already urging to you scoot over. The double piano bench is rather narrow but you think he might be closing in more than necessary. You’re acutely aware of the press of his thigh against yours.

“Do not let me disturb you, dearest,” he says in the dulcet tone you know means mischief.

“Is your goal not to disturb me, Mr Bridgerton?”

“My goal,” he whispers, leaning in conspiratorially, “is to be closer to the music.”

His breath on your neck does nothing to enhance your ability to focus. The first few notes are not quite rhythmic as a shiver runs through your limbs and down your fingertips. You soon find your footing, however, and the song comes to life in the form of a moderately slow but all the more magical sonata of your own composition. Sheet music is quite expensive and your collection rather limited. To add some variety you recently began to write your own, significantly inspired by Benedict and his artworks.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself and you smile as you transition into a faster section of the song that reminds you of fairies frolicking in a meadow, drunk on honeydew and starlight.

However, you soon realise that he did not talk about the music. His hand dances along your back, fingertips drumming over your spine until they come to rest on the swell of your hip on the other side. It is the closest thing to an embrace, his arm a comforting support behind your back. His proximity, if thrilling, does not deter you. Your hands remember exactly what they must do – over a decade of tutoring has left its marks.

Your confidence is short-lived. His hair tickles your ear as he leans in, a soft press of his lips to your shoulder, devoted, sensuous and… lingering. Your fingers slip but for a moment. It is enough to draw the wrong tunes from the instrument, a cacophonous quake that has you wincing in surprise.

“You must stay focused,” Benedict warns, lips still warm on your skin, “or everyone shall hear that you are… rather distracted.”

“How fortunate that I am known for my stable countenance.”

“Hm, yes, that is what they say about you, my darling, “ he whispers. “If only they saw you as I do, falling apart at the mere idea of a kiss.”

You close your eyes and recollect yourself, trying desperately to ignore how he feels against you. Despite his warning he shows no signs of stopping, not even as you resume your play. The next kiss hits the crook of your neck. You feel his nose against your jaw as he inhales your scent, rose oil and soap. For a moment his warm exhale against your throat overshadows the fact that is fingers curl at your hip, a not so innocent squeeze that you feel somewhere between your legs.

You’re aware that both of your families are just outside in the gardens, that the open windows and the steady breeze carry your tunes far out on the premises. Muscle memory serves you and you finish the hardest part of the song without more than one or two off-key notes. Benedict has been silent, lips lingering just below your ear. Just as you move on to the conclusion his mouth gets more insistent, sucking gently at your delicate skin as he gets carried away.

”Benedict,“ you warn. Crooked tunes are one thing, a vivid red kiss mark another.

“Forgive me,” he whispers, pressing tiny kisses along your neck now. “I cannot help it.”

You finish the song with a relieved exhale, wondering if a musical number has ever felt so painfully long before. Benedict has lost his patience, it seems. His free hand comes to rest on your sternum as though he needs to feel the agitated rise and fall of your chest. You only have a moment to relish in the soft feel of his palm on your bosom before he curls his fingers over your jaw and forces your head to turn to him. His kiss is dizzying, starved. He tastes of the strawberries he must have had outside just earlier.

You allow him to kiss you breathless before you remove yourself. He tries to chase after you, as he is won’t to do, but a finger on his swollen lips has him halting. His expression rivals that of Newton when he is in want of a treat.

“We must go back outside before they find us,” you say. “It is already suspicious enough that I played off-key the moment you stepped inside.”

“I blame you for being such a flawless musician.”

“I blame you for being such an irresistible distraction. Now come on, my darling, I am suddenly in want of some sweet strawberries.”

He sighs woefully and you cannot help but kiss the pout from his face.

─── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ───

This fic is coming within the next week I would say, it will be 18+ so MDNI. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the full thing!! (just in case this lands in the hashtag and someone actually sees it haha) ♡

[my-own-walker]

requesting kit with younger reader, where he picks her up from college and takes her for a milkshake but then they have sex in his car and after he has to drop her down the street because her parents don’t approve of him

Oh! You Pretty Things

note: this is cuteeeeee. thanks for the spicy kit request. i was getting bored of writing inside-the-asylum kit hehe

warnings: sm*t, p in v, oral m receiving, teasing, cursing, kinda overstim, not really tho

+++

The second hand moved so slowly on the clock, I thought it might be broken. Class always went slower when I knew I’d be seeing Kit afterward. Thursdays were our day.

My parents didn’t know. They hated the idea of me being distracted from my studies by some silly boy. I was, in fact, sticking my neck out by going to college as a woman, so I had to succeed. But, the new decade called for liberation for us women. I was proving a point by being able to date and do well in school.

I digress. I met Kit after my father's car got a flat. He showed up in his tow truck to save the day.

'Scummy, those mechanics,' my father quipped as we drove away.

I walked to the gas station Kit said he worked at the next day, set on getting him to ask me on a date.

We'd been secretly meeting up for dates ever since. He'd come to pick me up after my last class of the day every Thursday and take me out somewhere. I could, at times, sneak away to see Kit on other days of the week, but Thursdays were a set date. My mother and father had no idea. They thought I would stay late to study.

In my daydreaming daze, I almost didn't notice my classmates getting up to leave. I gathered my things hastily and rushed out of the room and into the bright daylight of the afternoon. The sun's light on the pavement was nearly blinding. I shaded my eyes with my hand as I walked to the curb, looking desperately for Kit's car.

Within seconds, his shiny black car came slowly up to the side of the street.

'Hey, pretty thing! You goin' my way, doll?' he called out of his window, acting as if he were a creepy stranger. I giggled and got into the passenger's side.

'You have no idea how nice it feels to do this,' I sighed, kicking my shoes off as Kit drove off.

'Rough day, beautiful?' He wore his work uniform. Some jeans, a white undershirt, and his button-up with his name on it. His hair was perfectly tousled, and the shirt was unbuttoned so that part of the white undergarment was showing. He looked soft and warm, and his smile lit up his eyes.

'Just a very long one, and I'm starving.'' I said, drawing out the word 'very.' I flipped down the visor and slid open the mirror, smoothing my hair and fixing the line of my lipstick while regarding my reflection. I pulled the tube of peach lipstick out of my bag and touched up my pout, making faces at myself all the while.

'Havin' fun over there?' Kit laughed.

'I'm beginning to think this shade is old hat,' I sighed. 'Maybe I should try red like Marilyn.'

'I don't care what color they are so long as I get to kiss 'em,' he smirked, taking one hand off the steering wheel and placing it on my upper thigh. I didn't even notice how far my dress had ridden up my leg since getting in the car.

I blushed and giggled, tucking the front pieces of my hair behind my ears. I will admit, I was still in the lavender haze with him.

He pulled into the parking lot of the small roadside diner in our town. It was quaint, tucked away in some trees, filled with truckers from out-of-state and old ladies meeting for lunch. It was a stone's throw from Kit's job, and the perfect place to hide away. Somewhere neither of my parents would dare go.

We sat at the tall counter in the center of the place. This was part of our little Thursday routine. I would always come out of class absolutely ravenous. We'd pick far-away or unknown places to eat before truly spending time together.

'You want somethin', my pretty thing?' Kit asked as the waitress stood in front of us.

'Honestly, a milkshake would be a gas,' I smiled up at the waitress. 'Strawberry.'

'That's all you want?' Kit asked as she walked away. 'Are you sure?'

'Yeah, Kit, I'm alright,' I replied, feeling around in my bag for a light for my cigarette. 'Shit, I must have dropped my lighter somewhere. It's not here.'

'Don’t worry doll, I got you,' he drawled, flicking his own open and holding it under the cigarette clenched in my teeth. I took a long drag and exhaled. The waitress returned and placed my drink in front of me, and Kit's meal in front of him.

I looked over at Kit and caught him taking me in. He looked me up and down and chuckled softly.

'My, you are a dream,' he cooed, placing a hand on my chin to bring me in for a kiss. I went in for a peck and was alarmed to find that Kit wanted more.

'Baby, not here,' I said through gritted teeth, pulling away quickly. I looked around to make sure no one saw. 'You're an animal.' I laughed and he returned the smile.

'I just can't control myself around you, pretty.'

'Well then hurry up and finish your food so we can peel out,' I giggled, pushing his shoulder playfully.

+

There was an old abandoned schoolhouse in town 5 minutes away from my house. Kit and I would find ourselves in the back parking lot frequently. Tucked away from the public eye in his car.

As soon as Kit parked the car, he dragged me into the back seat with him. We made out furiously, like two caged animals that were finally set free. It was a small space, but we sure made it work.

I took over, immediately pushing Kit's back up against the door, placing my hands on his chest to hold him down. His white undershirt was soft against my palms. I could feel his heart pounding furiously beneath my fingertips. A pace that signaled to me just how much he wanted this.

We kissed for only a short time before clothes started getting removed. First, I aided him in removing his work shirt. Then, I worked to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He slid them off quickly. I took that time to remove my panties, throwing them hastily to the front seat.

His erection was noticeable through his white briefs. My hand immediately reached to touch it, only for it to be held back.

'Not yet, sweetheart,' he smiled. He pushed me back into the door on my side and continued making out with me. His hands groped all over my body, paying particular attention to my breasts. 'Oh this dress just won't do,' he muttered.

My high-necked smock dress was fit for school, yes, but not for this. He reached behind me and unzipped the fabric smoothly. He tugged the material and it slid down to expose my bra. Kit smiled as he looked into my eyes, then turned his attention back to my chest. He peppered kisses all over my sensitive skin, making goosebumps raise all over my body.

First, he slid my left bra strap off my shoulder, creating a bit more slack and revealing more of my skin. He took his time to kiss all of the areas of skin he hadn't before, going agonizingly slow so that I would get hot and bothered. He loved when I was hot and bothered.

Next was the right bra strap. The ceremony continued. His ritualistic dance of adorning love to every inch of my body made every horrible minute spent without him worth it. His mouth inched closer and closer to the very edge of my bra. Eventually, I gave in to the teasing and reached back to unhook the damn thing myself.

Deciding I'd had enough, though, I pushed Kit back again. This time, all the way down so that he was laying across the back seat. My hand reached for his bulge and stroked it. He whimpered in pleasure. I took the waistband of his briefs in my fingers and tugged, making his dick spring loose.

I lined myself up with him and slid his throbbing erection into my slick middle, feeling every inch of it go deeper and deeper into me. I cried out involuntarily and began bouncing on it, feeling our two bodies connect naturally. My walls tightened around it. He moaned softly.

'Oh baby, yeah,' he spat through gritted teeth as I continued to ride him. I stooped down and kissed him passionately, still keeping a rhythm. His shaking hands reached up to grope my breasts again, this time more firmly. He slid his hands down to my waist and held it, almost as if he were trying to feel some sort of control over me.

I continued moving my hips atop his dick. His length went so deep within me, I thought I'd scream. I put both of my palms on either side of his chest to steady myself. His breathing got more ragged, and I could feel his heart racing still.

'Fuck,' Kit grunted, trying not to come so easily. He gathered what strength he had a lifted me off of his erection by my waist. I sat back and slid down to a laying position as he rose to position himself above me, both of us maintaining eye contact as we went. He wanted a turn on top.

I didn't even get a chance to settle before his large cock was inside me again. I yelped and screwed my eyes closed, existing at that moment at his very will. He held my wrists, which were resting just next to my head, down so that I couldn't move. I whined in protest but was silenced by his lips on mine.

Sweat formed on his brow. I could feel myself succumbing to the waves of orgasm. But, neither of us wanted to be the first to give in. I breathed heavily to steel myself, but it was to no avail. I came first, crying out and moaning loudly. He slid out of me and stroked my hair as the fits of pleasure overtook me.

Kit sat back against the door on his side of the car once again, breathing heavily. I regained my composure and sat up, sitting back on my heels. I stooped down and took his pre-cum covered dick in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tip and reveled in the whimpers and cries Kit was letting out. He grabbed and pulled my hair gently as I continued to suck him off.

'I-I'm gonna come,' he mustered, trying to warn me in case I wanted to stop. Instead, I let him blow his load directly into my mouth. I ignored the warmth and bitter taste as I swallowed. He moaned and threw his head back, eventually relaxing into his position. I wiped my mouth and sat back as well.

Recovered from his orgasm, Kit leaned forward and laid half-beside and half-on me, resting his head on my chest. I sighed in contentment.

'God, you're good at that,' Kit whispered, laughing softly. I laughed too. He grabbed my hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss it. He kissed the back of each finger as well to emphasize his gratefulness. He nestled closer into me. I nearly fell asleep listening to his breathing even out.

I gasped suddenly when I looked out the window and saw the sun setting. 'Shit, Kit, we have to get me home!'

We both worked quickly to redress. He helped me with the tough job of zipping up the back of my dress. I scrambled out of the back door and into the passenger door, slamming it shut and bringing the visor down to once again look at myself in the mirror. Kit clambered up to the front from the back seat and settled himself in.

He turned the key in the ignition and started the car up. He paused, though, before going. I looked away from fixing my lipstick for a moment to see what was the matter. Kit shifted in his seat and reached for something that was under him. In his hand was my panties.

'I uh, think you're gonna need these,' he chuckled, blushing. I smacked his arm and snatched them from his grip.

'Oh, hush! Stop! It's not funny,' I protested, half-laughing as well. I shoved them into my handbag demonstratively. 'Now hurry up and drive!'

+

The ride home was quick enough. The sun was still setting as Kit got to the end of my street. He had to drop me there to avoid my parents seeing anything.

'Are you sure you're gonna be okay walking over there this late? I don't need anyone snatching my girl,' Kit spoke.

'I'll be fine, Kit. No one really walks my street. Plus, it's not even that dark,' I assured him.

'Well okay, but I'll be parked here watching ya, okay?'

'Just don't be too obvious,' I warned.

He leaned over and grabbed my face, pulling me in for one last, passionate kiss. When I pulled away, my lipstick was all over his face. I just chuckled to myself and opened the door.

'I love you, you pretty thing,' he called after me.

'I love you too, Kit,' I smiled.

+++

Literally cannot lie I got a bit, uh, bothered myself writing this one LOL. Let me know if you liked this one!

[gamerwoman3d]

◜I Need Attention◞

▸ includes: sub-zero [mk1 versions] ◂

Reminder: You CAN use my Mortal Kombat 1 footage for your fanworks! [Icons, fanart, whatever is legal.]

SUB-ZERO

I don't imagine him watching TV often, but when he does it's probably work related. I imagine him watching MMA tournaments and studying other martial arts matches/competitions that happen in parts of the world he can't get to. And I imagine when he's watching a live match, nothing can tear his focus off the combatants. But for a ready lady lover who needs attention, I imagine he would multitask like this -

[Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞]

Maybe it's late and you're already in bed together. You can't dictate the schedules of tournaments on the other side of the planet so who knows what time he wakes himself to turn on the TV. Maybe the groans and shouts of the competitors plays softly from the speakers, invading your subconscious before waking you. Or perhaps he has headphones, but reflexively hisses and groans out an "ooh" or "ouch" in sympathy for a wounded contestant. Maybe the audio that awakens you is a mixture of fighter groans and Bi-han's muttering, "should guard your left... your other left, idiot. Mmmm you got lucky."

Either way, imagine waking naked beneath a blanket to the vision of him sitting up in bed, the light of the TV casting a glow over his naked torso. Imagine you get to purr and touch him. Maybe you plant little kisses on his side and tell him you were dreaming about him. Maybe he glances at you and murmurs an apology for waking you from your dream as he pets your hair and draws you against him before he returns his focus to the match.

His hand probably feels good in your hair. He probably smells good and sounds good when he asks about your dream. You see him still focused on the match. You tell him he was licking you in your dream. He grunts absently. You nip him and he doesn't break his gaze from the TV.

But you need attention.

You're horny, you tell him. He tells you there are only a few fights left. Whatever, you're horny and you're horny right now. You tell him you want to masturbate if he's not going to play. You ask if that's okay. He thinks about it a second and says it's fine. Turn up the volume, you tell him.

You play with yourself. Tickling your clit feels better when he's next to you, even if he's not paying attention. He hears you whimper. He turns his head an inch towards you with his eyes locked on the screen. As soon as he can safely spare a glance your way, he looks down at your hand on your pussy for a fraction of a second. His own hand darts down, covers yours. He feels how you play with yourself, then pushes your hand out of the way and takes over. You hold his arm with your wet hand and bury your face in his side, panting. You work your hips and press your clit into his fingertips.

His little strokes are steady, and on the mark. It feels good. Over time it feels better and there can be sudden washes of sensitivity and pleasure in which you find yourself, not cumming, but worked up enough that you're shuddering and whimpering louder - but the second your voice breaks into anything louder than a whisper, the second you sob, his fingers hesitate on you and he peeks at your face. He slows down, goes lighter, selfishly saving you for himself for the end of the match.

The edging can blind you and you can beg him to do it harder or wait patiently for someone to win the fight, content in his arms, content with his steady strokes on your wet, swollen clit. You're too blissed out to know what's happening in the fight or how long you have to wait. You assume you have to wait longer and are surprised by the intensity of the sudden unexpected kiss.

He practically dives on top of you and starts to curl your legs up around him. Did the fights end, you wonder aloud. He tells you it was a quick KO and not to worry about the fight, he knows its over.

All of his attention is on you, as if all of his attention was on your soaking wet, slick pussy the entire time. As if he couldn't wait to cum inside. As if he couldn't wait to make you tell him all about your little wet dream of him while he slides his slick cock back and forth over your swollen clit to lubricate himself in your juices. As if he didn't just edge you so much that you can no longer respond to him in complete sentences without moaning incoherent pleas for him to rail you. You lift your pussy, press the lips against his balls, and let the pink winking folds speak on your behalf, begging him for a mercy that he cannot resist granting you.

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Rolan finding Tav's sketchbook and sees beautiful (and spicy) drawings of himself?

Rolan’s often noticed Tav drawing. They like to stop by the Sundries and sketch the customers, and though there’s really no need for him to man the desk when the projection’s working, he always hurries down as soon as Cal and Lia happen to mention that they’re there.

Sometimes, they’ve asked to sketch him too. They’re genuinely very good; it’s surprising to him that such powerful, warhammer-wielding arms are also capable of such dexterity. (A relief, too, since Rolan knows all too well that white lies are not his strength. More than one youthful relationship was nipped in the bud by his tactless comments, and though he’s more careful about it now, the strain shows on his face whenever he’s required to be nice about a customer’s tasteless outfit or a revolting bottle of gifted wine).

Truly, Tav is more than very good. Watching their skilled fingers weave across the page sends flickers of heat down Rolan’s spine. He did his best for so long not to admit his crush, but there’s no denying it now. What he’d like those hands to do, how he’d like to submit to their ministrations, teasing him, stroking him - Gods, he has to stop thinking about it, because his cheeks are growing a little too hot for comfort… and Tav’s eyes wander briefly down from his face to his groin -

‘Give me that,’ Rolan snaps, hastily clenching his thighs. ‘If you’re finished.’

They are finished, they tell him with a smile, though they ignore his outstretched hands and simply show him the page, grasping the edges of the notebook tight.

‘Very well done,’ Rolan concedes.

‘Helps to have such a beautiful model.’

No, no, no - he is not blushing to the temples, even if it feels like he must be. ‘Well, let me have a closer look, then.’

Tav’s smile abruptly tightens, and they shake their head, their expression suddenly closed. Rolan frowns, wrongfooted. Don’t they want him to appreciate their work? He wishes he had practised flirting more. It’s been a long time since there was someone he truly wanted to impress, and apparently he is no good at it.

‘Oh, sorry,’ they say, and laugh. ‘Don’t worry, it’s just there’s a few private notes in here, so I don’t let anyone else touch it.’

That… should not be as tempting as it is. Rolan’s fingers itch to flip through those pages. Not from any nefarious motive. He just wishes he could know them better. Beyond a wish; it’s a yearning. There are so many questions he wants to ask them, so many things he wants to know. He needs them… but he just can’t say it.

It’s not his finest moment, then, when next time they enter the shop he does not come down to greet them. Instead, as they browse the shelves, he winces at his own terrible judgement, hiding behind a convenient bookshelf, and summons a mage hand to sneak the painfully tempting book from their pocket. Even the mage hand looks embarrassed, curling up on itself as it skulks up to their open pack. It slams the offending item in his lap and poofs out of existence as if it couldn’t bear another moment in his company.

Rolan’s heart is already pounding. Just a little peak, he tells himself, and opens the book. Pages of beautiful vines and mushrooms and flowers. Owlbears and eagles. The faces of many of their companions - Wyll, Halsin, Lae’zel. His heart relaxes, and then sinks. A little disappointing, really. He should probably put it back before he does find anything… just one more page or two…

A drawing of him… another drawing of him… studies of his face and tail and claws, executed with such attention to detail he feels almost stared at, though there’s no-one here but the page. Gods, their gaze must have lingered over him for so long, to conjure such exquisitely observed visions. His neck prickles with heat, excitement building once more. Just one more page…

He nearly drops the book.

‘Zurgan!’ he curses aloud, and then slams his hand over his mouth. This picture… it’s him, barely dressed, draped in just the tiniest piece of fabric to make him decent. Although the bulge underneath it makes it rather moot. Gods… are they thinking about him like this? It’s not entirely accurate, but then they’ve never seen him with his clothes off; never seen all of the ridges that mark his Hells-touched skin. He feels undressed anyway, burning with shame and lust.

Hissing the mage hand incantation, he thrusts the book closed and shoves it back in their bag as quickly as he can. They jump a little and look round, startled; but fortunately they don’t see him. Wretched Hells. Rolan can’t even begin to piece together how he feels, but one thing is certain; his cock is ragingly hard, and he can think of nothing else until he’s hidden away in his room, crying Tav’s name aloud with such urgency he doesn’t even bother to strip off his clothes.

Gods. He slumps against the wall, robes soaked in come, and buries his face in his clean hand. He has to admit this to them. To clear the air. To ask if - he dare not ask if - but surely they want to, if they dream of him like that? But it was outrageous of them to draw him like that, without asking. The Master of Ramazith’s Tower deliberately chooses not to volunteer for any anatomical drawing classes. The very thought of disrobing like that, to be picked over and studied, humiliates him to the core; but perhaps that is also why the heat flooded him so strongly, why he came so desperately hard…

His jaw sets on a resolution. He must bring it up to them. Demand an explanation. Tell them never to imagine him like that again. Well… perhaps not that last one. Gods damn it. This is exactly why he was going to maintain a polite silence on the subject of wanting to be fucked senseless by them, for the rest of his life if necessary. It was much simpler for everyone involved.

Alas, when next they walk into the shop, his tongue quite disobeys him.

‘Hello, Rolan,’ they say cheerfully, and though they linger for a moment, they simply nod and head for the potion shelves.

‘Ah - don’t you want a model? I mean. Have you - been drawing lately?’

‘Not much in the mood for drawing today,’ they say with a smile, and his face crumples in a frustrated frown.

‘You seemed to be very enthusiastic last time,’ he snaps.

Tav’s brow furls. ‘Is there… something the matter?’

‘No,’ Rolan retorts. ‘Be on your way. I wouldn’t want to detain you any longer.’

Their hand pats up against the sketchbook in their pack. Guilty, Rolan thinks with some satisfaction. Satisfaction that dies a rapid, bloodied death as he remembers that he doesn’t want this to end in an argument. How exactly he sees it ending, he’s not sure… though his breath catches as they take a step closer and murmur under their breath.

‘Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?’

‘No.’ Rolan bites his lip as he looks into their concerned eyes.

‘Rolan,’ they mutter, looking slightly frustrated themselves. ‘Come on.’

‘Come on what?’

Rolan stifles a groan as he says it. That did not have quite the sarcastic bite he intended. Tav’s mouth twitches in amusement, despite the situation.

‘Come on, I know you well enough by now. You’re not happy with me.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need a model?’ he snaps. ‘A… nude… one perhaps?’

He can feel the heat scorching him again, but the words are out now. And Tav looks immediately, uncharacteristically embarrassed.

‘Oh fuck.’

‘Oh fuck, indeed,’ he mutters.

‘Rolan - I’m so sorry. But, wait, how did you know? Did you - that was what I felt last time I was here!’

‘Ah.’ He winces, and then hastens to get the next word in. ‘It’s your fault. You should never have brought it in here. You should never have drawn me like that!’

‘You shouldn’t have looked through my sketchbook!’ Tav fires back, but even before they finish, their face twists with guilt. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have drawn you like that. And I certainly never meant for you to see it.’

Rolan slumps a little from his defensively sharp posture, his arms loosening from their crossed shield around his chest. ‘Apology accepted. I suppose.’

‘Why did you look?’ Tav asks gently.

He rakes his claws over his bicep. ‘I… I wanted… I mean… I thought that picture was…’

There’s a distinct whisper of rushed breaths, coming from his own mouth, and they distract him. What was he trying to say?

‘I wanted to know you.’

‘You can always ask. Whatever you want to know, I’ll always want to tell you.’

‘You didn’t ask me!’

‘You’re right,’ they say quietly. ‘I should go.’

‘Wait. Don’t go. Is there… anything you want to…’

‘Ask you now?’ they interrupt, a flirtatious smile suddenly stealing onto their face. ‘Why, is there something you want me to?’

Rolan opens his mouth, thinks better of it, and closes it again. ‘Well, if you’re going to be difficult.’

‘Who’s being difficult? You know you could ask me, if you wanted me to do something. Like… draw you naked.’

Rolan finds himself leaning back on the counter for support, ruffling a pile of Prestidigitation pamphlets so thoroughly that several of them breeze to the floor.

‘Ah - I… would have to think about it.’

Tav stands up from collecting the pamphlets, and somehow they’re just a little bit closer than they were before, their mouth so temptingly close -

‘Yes!’ Rolan says suddenly. ‘Yes - I want you to draw me like that. Please.’

‘Hmm. Then I will. With pleasure. Is there anything else you’d like?’ Tav asks teasingly.

‘Well…’ Rolan starts, and never finishes, because somehow they’re kissing in the middle of Sorcerous Sundries, his claws seizing handfuls of Tav’s shirt and their dexterous fingers already curling in his hair. A few, rather surprised, murmurs and giggles break out amongst the customers.

‘Fuck,’ he gasps, and then corrects himself. ‘I mean. Zurgan. Let me -’

They almost fall through the arcane portal he conjures to his bedroom.

‘Go on then,’ Tav murmurs, pulling out their sketchbook. ‘Show me what I’m working with.’

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Muddled Waters 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, blood, violence,, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

Your shift goes as usual. You make drinks to order and bring them out to the tables, or to set in the windows set into the walls of the private rooms. Those are for the more exclusive patrons, the ones who remain mostly faceless. The Sapphire is as close to a speakasy as you’d find in this century.

As you bring out a single scotch and place it on the ledge of the order window, a voice intone from the other side.

“Pardon me,” the English lilt wafts through, “your boss wouldn’t happen to be in house?”

You pull back your hand and consider the question. The customers in the rooms never talk to you. No thank yous, no pleases, no special orders. Those all come through the screen in the back which lists their demands; no olives, extra salt, double vodka...

“No, sir, I’m sorry, he’s not in,” you reply.

“Pity,” he remarks and a hand reaches to take the glass. “You will let him know I was here. In Room Four.”

“I’ll mention it. Would there be a name I should give him?”

“He will know,” he returns and footsteps scuff away from the window. Right.

You’re somewhat used to the cryptic. As nice as Nick can be, he isn’t always straightforward. The establishment does give you reason to bat an eye but for the most part, your pay stubs keep your gaze in the other direction.

You return to the kitchen and work at cleaning the used glasses brought by the singular busboy. You don’t know his name and he doesn’t talk. He always has earbuds in and only puts bins of dishes in the wash tray.

To say the operation is minimal is an understatement. Yet there is never more demand than you can meet. It makes you wonder how Nick breaks even with such a limited audience. Especially with the grade of ingredients he gets in. You never worked at a bar that didn’t water down their liquor now and again.

The night comes to an end and the lights dim as the bar closes up. The busboy clears the rooms and locks the front door. You leave the glasses in sparkling rows on the shelves and a bin of dishcloths to have washed the next day. You place away a few stray bottles then wipe down the counters.

“You’re here late,” Nick’s voice startles you and you hiss, looking up at him from the edge of your vision.

“Cleaning up,” you say and toss the cloth with the rest. “Just finishing now.”

“Mm,” he nods and hooks his thumbs in his belt loops, “you wouldn’t happen to have time to make me something, would ya? I’ll keep it simple.”

You withhold a sigh. Or maybe a yawn. Your eyes tingle and you shrug, “sure, what do you want?”

“Rye and coke,” he answers as he approaches the island and crosses his arms over the top, leaning on the stainless steel.

You swiftly gather everything you need and put together the simple drink. You set it before him and return all you disturbed back to its rightful place. You face him as he raises the glass and considers the dark elixir.

“Oh, er, someone asked for you,” you untie your apron and fold it over the bin meant for tomorrow’s laundry.

“Someone did? Was she pretty?” He winks.

You shake your head, “no. It was a man. He was in Room Four. That’s what he told me to tell you.”

“Room Four,” he repeats and puts the brim to his lips, taking a slow draw. His cheeks dimple before he pulls it away. “Noted.”

You nod at his strange reaction. Almost none at all. You check the time and drag your hands over your head.

“Well, I’m going to head home,” you say, “if that’s okay?”

“Quitting time,” he says coolly, his eyes stuck on the cabinet, a squiggle in his forehead. “Go on, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you shoot back. “Look like you need it.”

You pass him and he stands, turning to watch you, “hey, what does that mean?”

“Nothing, just... look tired.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he scoffs.

You go through to the backroom and grab your jacket and purse. It’s not really a strange night. A few out-of-the-ordinary occurrences, but nothing worrying. The man in Room Four and Nick’s late-night appearance; it’s not really a pattern.

You glance back at the kitchen door before you leave. You head out the back and walk down the next street. You approach your car parked by the curb, the rush hour jam keeping you from finding a closer spot. You take out your keys and they jangle loudly as your footsteps echo.

As you shove your keys into the slot, you’re suddenly taken off your feet, a blunt force jarring your wrist as your fingers catch in the keyring. You hit the ground with wheeze and roll across the stray pebbles as you hug your chest. You can’t breathe.

“Look, honey,” the British voice hisses through the night, “I didn’t wanna bring you into this but I needa send a message.” A figure straddles you on their knees, holding you down by your neck. “Not much, you’ll live...” you hear a metallic shing, “bit of blood is all.”

You feel a piercing pain just below your neck, right at the small dip of your collar bone. You cry out as the metal slices down your chest and easily through your shirt. Your skin parts with the fabric as you vibrate in agony.

“Get... off,” you cough out as you regain your breath. “Please...”

“Shh, honey,” he takes the knife away and smears his hand over your chest, your warm blood spreading under his rough palm, “I just want him to see you painted up nice for him.” He drags his hand over your face, the metallic scent staining your nose and lips. “Mm, you are a pretty thing, too.”

The man wiggles his hips lasciviously before he pushes himself off of you. He stands and you cover your ragged skin with your hands and whine, sobs rising from the pain hewn into your flesh. There’s a noise, something distant, maybe a door, and the man’s silhouette strolls off, whistling into the night.

Another set of footfalls approach you as you writhe on the ground. You don’t understand what happened. Why did that man do this to you? You can’t move. You can’t think. You just can’t.

The street light flickers as someone steps around the front of your car.

“Shit,” Nick rushes over and falls to his knees beside you, “shit, sweetheart, I shouldn’t have let you come out here alone. I shoulda knew...”

“Why?” You babble as your blood seeps between your fingers, “why, Nick?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bawl. He slides his arms under you and lifts you as you exclaim. He hushes you as he holds you against his chest.

“It hurts,” you whimper.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he rasps, “I got you.”

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Are You From Tennessee?

Written for my @eddiemunsonbingo prompt B1: Bad Pickup Lines. 828 words. Rated T. Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson with no archive warnings.

Steve sat at the bar with an old fashioned cupped in his hands as he chatted with the bartender. It was a pretty average night, and he felt content in that normalcy.

As a presence fell over him, Steve didn’t bother to look up. He stayed where he was as a pair of arms rested against the bar on either side of him. The bartender looked curiously but didn’t intervene.

“Hey baby, come here often?”

Steve’s spine stiffened, and now the bartender stood up straighter as he prepared to intervene from Steve’s body language. Before he could, though, Steve turned around to face the man directly.

Eddie’s wide eyes looked back at him as Steve snapped, “Nope, not good enough. Try again.”

Eddie took a single step back and Steve nodded, gesturing to shoo him away. “Restart. I’m worth a little more creativity, yeah?”

Barking out a laugh, Eddie nodded. He didn’t say anything further as he headed back toward the bathrooms.

The bartender went a little bug-eyed as he watched Eddie go. “Should I ask?”

Steve shrugged. “Just a little game we play. That’s my husband.”

His expression softened. “Should I keep an ear out for what he says when he comes back?”

Steve chuckled with a nod. “Absolutely. He’s normally pretty ingenious, and I’m a little offended by the laziness of that one.”

His drink was almost gone when he felt Eddie’s return. This time he leaned against the bar next to Steve, tilting his head and letting his hair fall in a way he knew drove Steve crazy.

“You must be a parking ticket,” Eddie said.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve leaned toward him. He couldn’t help it.

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got fine written all over you.”

The bartender snorted. Eddie glanced at him curiously, but Steve never looked away from Eddie. Normally he played pretend here, but Eddie had set him up so well with one Steve had been waiting to use.

“That must make you a library card,” he said, and Eddie’s face opened up in delight. “Because all I want to do is check you out.”

“You’re really drawing me in over here.” Eddie reached out to run his finger over the back of Steve’s hand. “You must be an artist or something.”

Steve hummed, thinking quickly. If they were trading back and forth, he definitely wanted to keep going. “That hand of yours looks heavy. Can I hold it for you?”

Eddie laughed as he slipped his fingers between Steve’s. “Oh, your skin’s burning up. Must be because you’re so hot.”

Steve ducked his head, letting his forehead rest on Eddie’s shoulder to hide his grin and give himself time to think. Did he have any guitar jokes ready? No, but there was one about strings that had made him laugh. How did it go?

“You must be a puppeteer,” Steve said as he sat back up. “You seem like you’d be really good at pulling my strings.”

Eddie chuckled as he leaned in to press a slow kiss to Steve’s lips. As he pulled away, he added, “Life without you would be like a broken pencil.”

“Pointless.” Steve had seen this one before. Maybe they were looking at the same lists.

Eddie pouted a little at having his punchline stolen, but another kiss quickly put a smile back on his face.

They both looked up as a set of glasses slid in front of them. The bartender winked. “On the house after that little display.”

Steve laughed, squeezing Eddie’s hand even as his husband looked confused but along for the ride. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

They chatted as the two of them sipped their way through their drinks. By the time they’d finished, Steve had to stifle a yawn. He didn’t have the stamina to stay out late like he used to.

Eddie noticed. Of course he did. With a sly smile, he leaned over and tapped Steve’s nose. “Ready to head home?”

Steve made a face. “You don’t have anything more spicy to ask with.”

Eddie winked and leaned in close to speak quietly in Steve’s ear. “Are you an elevator? I’d be happy to go up and down all night.”

Steve couldn’t help the snort that left his mouth, even as he tried to cover it.

Eddie grinned. “Well if you like that one…” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek before adding, “I’ve got a vitamin D deficiency. Think you have something that could save me?”

Steve groaned, letting his head fall onto Eddie’s shoulder. “That was bad, even for you.”

Eddie laughed and tossed a couple bills on the bartop before sliding off his stool. His arm slid around Steve’s face. “Still willing to go home with me after that?”

With a heavy sigh, Steve nestled into his side as they started walking. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Eddie hummed in acknowledgement. “That’s what I love about you. With you, I don’t need any lines.”

[AO3 link]

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Closed Until Further Notice

Oh my god this was WAY longer than anticipated and I wasn't planning on making it like spicy, but it's been a while so I threw some at the very end ;) this is Eris x Cafe Owner ! Reader / trope, it was very cute so I hope I captured the idea well enough for the anon who requested it!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

Eris wouldn’t say he frequented the small towns scattered throughout the Autumn Courts, nothing more than a yearly visit or two, normally just for an inspection called upon by his father. He usually came on horseback, flanked by his soldiers in their shining armor, and strolled through the town for a quick survey. He nodded politely, quick to make his way through the town without disturbing any of the residents. No matter how nice he was, how civil and respectful he was, they still cowered from him - hid in their homes and shut their shop doors when he passed through.

But there was one town, nestled just past the forest in the valley of the mountains right before the Winter Court, that Eris took his time visiting. That’s exactly what it was, in fact: a visit, not an inspection - no surveillance, no prying. He traveled there alone, winnowing to the outskirts of the village, taking his time walking down the main street. Stores and homes littered the dirt road, nearly frozen solid from the Winter wind that blew across the border; he walked along the stone sidewalk, past the brick houses and the shops built up from the redwood trees. 

At the center of the town stood the bakery, a hand painted sign that spelled it out in fine script. The chalkboard was propped open on the walkway, the specials written in swirly cursive. Eris bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crawled up his lips, eyeing the Topfenstrudel you’d written no doubt early this morning - probably before he’d even woken up. You’d listed a few teas below it, fruit sauces, and spices to pair it with. 

Eris wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d patroned it more than the other little towns. It started once a year, just like everywhere else, but turned quarterly - monthly, even - after he visited your bakery. Small and tucked away, next to a butcher’s shop on one side and a bookstore on the other, your cafe was lined with tables and plush chairs, golden faelights and fresh flowers strewn across the space. 

He slipped through the door quickly, trying not to let out the heat from the small fire in the hearth beside the counter. “Good morning,” you called from the back kitchen, not visible from the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Eris hummed in response, throwing a tiny ring of fire at the dimming flame. He noted the heat immediately, a welcome shiver down his spine at the feeling. He shook off the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a few steps around the cafe. 

He had half a mind to bring you flowers this time - though, he’d been telling himself that the past three visits. His mother had clipped some hydrangeas from her garden, had them laid out along the long table in her drawing room. He should have just swiped a few, winnowed out before she would even notice, but he thought against it, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or think he was trying something. 

Not that he wasn’t, necessarily - he should - gods, he wanted to. But the only thing you knew about him was that he was the High Lord’s son, he didn’t want to accept your advances because you felt like you had to. 

You popped around the corner, stopping in front of the counter wiping your hands on your apron. Your mouth opened and shut quickly, eyes wide at the sight of him. But he didn’t miss the blush that crawled up your cheeks, the small flustered smile when his fiery gaze met yours. “Oh - I didn’t - sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, shaking your head slightly. 

Eris smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “I wasn’t, don’t worry.” He’d counted down each minute - all forty-four thousand of them - until he saw you again. 

“You’re early,” you replied, pressing your hands against the counter, shuffling the random pile of papers before you.

He shrugged, eyes falling to the counter, watching how you moved the papers, each scrawled with a different recipe or note, and pushed them to the side. “Long day ahead - I wanted to make sure I got the strudel before you ran out.” 

The High Lord’s son typically came closer to closing, when just a few customers lingered around. Some ducked out quickly, afraid of the tall male’s presence; others stayed, tucked away in the dimly lit corners of the cafe, watching the handsome male from just over the rim of their coffee up. He usually ordered a tea - something chamomile or tisane - along with a pastry or two, and always tried the daily special. 

But you opened at six in the morning, and Eris strolled in just three minutes past. 

“Then what else can I get for you, Eris?” He almost melted on the spot - his name dripped like honey off your lips. You’d exchanged names and gotten past formalities a few months ago, when you’d started greeting him more like a friend than the High Lord’s son. 

He figured he’d never get anywhere with you if he kept lingering around the bakery before closing, when your neighbors sat watching his every move. 

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” You quirked a brow at the male, surprised at the change in order, though you supposed it was too early for a sleepy tea. 

You watched him ruffle around in his pocket for some change, the heavy gold coins shaking in his hand. He dipped his head to count the money, you watched the red locks of hair fall over his brow. You tipped your head back to look up at him, watch the fire’s shadows dance over his carved cheekbones, kissing his straight nose. 

You were able to see him clearly in the morning light; you could count the freckles across his cheeks, and oh how you longed to. He looked so different at night, when the sun was gone and the only light came from the red fire and amber faelights, as well as his glowing eyes. “And how do you take your coffee?” You watched his throat work, his eyes roam over your features. 

Eris pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “How you take yours.” 

“Milk and sugar?” You hummed, raising your brow, smiling at the male. While he savored the sweets you served him, you would have assumed he went for the more bitter taste. 

To be fair, he did. He just wanted to know how you liked yours, should he ever have the chance to make it for you himself. 

Preferentially in his bed. 

And nude. 

“Milk and sugar,” he replied with a small nod but a broad smile. 

Your eyes flitted between him and the mess on the counter in front of you - yet his red eyes never left yours, his gaze burning into you. You couldn’t help but blush, the heat emitted from his body calling to you, for you to throw yourself into him and feel his arms around you. The chill from the Winter Court was strong that morning, you’d wanted nothing more than to linger around the warm ovens all morning. But the cafe felt warmer, like it always did when he visited; you weren’t sure if it was his fire powers or just him. 

How much you wanted to touch him. 

“Coming right up.” You offered him a smile before trotting off to the kitchen, setting the grounds up over the set of mugs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Your voice carried quietly from the back kitchen, just audible above the cracking fire. Eris’s eyes swiped around the cafe, over the small tables and iron chairs, never having seen the shop empty before. But he took a seat against the window, the seats shrouded with pillows with stacks of books adorning the tabletop. Your scent lingered across the space, bright and fruity with a hint of cinnamon. 

He tried not to stare at the counter across the shop, watch and wait for you to appear in the doorway to return. Eris tried to busy himself, glancing at each of the plants hanging from baskets, the flowers that he tried to remember, the sound of his mother reciting each name in the back of his mind. 

You piled the mugs and plates on a small wooden tray and made your way back to the tiny dining area, weaving through the tables to meet him in the corner. His thick brows raised in surprise as he noticed the amount of goodies on the tray, scrambling to stand and take it from you. But you shooed him off, setting everything down between you and ushering him to sit when you took the seat across from him. 

You never thought you’d meet a member of Autumn royalty, let alone one that fretted over you carrying a small try and who stood whenever you entered the room. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said, quietly, almost unsure of how the word was supposed to sound - like it was foreign. But your pointed ears flexed, unable to miss the small sentiment, no matter how unusual it tasted on his tongue, he was trying. 

“You’re welcome, Eris,” you replied simply, handing him a mug, taking the matching one for yourself. There were a couple strudels on a plate, paired with a bowl of fruit, and some macaroons, a couple pumpkin tarts fresh from the oven on the side. 

He noticed how you pulled your strudel in half, how your shoulders shrugged slightly when you tasted it, the warm dough relaxing the cold chill that stiffened your spine. You couldn’t help but watch his hands work before you, pulling apart his pastry, just as you did, how he picked up the coffee cup loosely in those long fingers, pale knuckles and veins lining his big hands. You cradled your own mug in both hands, half needing the warmth from the side of the cup, the other half needing the grasp on reality, keeping you grounded - keeping your mind from wandering too far. 

His gaze washed over you, watching as you zoned out, staring into the space between you. “Were you here early this morning?” 

You blinked once, twice, trying to pull your eyes away from the male’s hands. “Yeah.” You huffed a laugh, sipping from the much needed coffee. “I start baking at four - got here at three though.” You eyed the pastry he’d picked up. “These were a bit more difficult than what I usually try for.”

“It’s excellent,” he said, taking a bite of the flaky pastry. “Very much worth the extra time, in my opinion.”

“I’m glad you came today.” Eris’s red eyes sparkled at your words, he felt the fire roar through his veins and crawl up his cheeks. 

Me too. He ached; wanted to find out everything about you, about your life, what you liked and what you didn’t, your family, what made you tick, what made you smile, how you tasted, how you’d look in his bed, on his lap. 

But before the male could even think of a response, the door swung open, followed by a gust of wind. Your eyes shot to the door immediately, assessing who came in, interrupting (what Eris believed to be, at least) a pleasant conversation. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Aldrich,” you greeted the old female, bundled up in her coat and wrapped in what looked like two scarves. Your eyes dropped to Eris once more as you pushed yourself from the table, sauntering off to the counter to serve her. 

But Eris decided to only wait a few moments longer, downing the rest of his coffee and finishing the treats on the table before stacking the bowls and plates. He ran his hands over the sides of his corduroy pants, unsure of whether to bring them to you in the kitchen, whether he should even go out of his way to say goodbye. He felt the Fae female staring at him, too afraid to say anything, but watching his every move. So he buttoned his jacket, preparing to leave before anyone else could come to the cafe to study him. 

He turned to the female, offering his a polite bow of his head in greeting, which she returned with a small curtsey. “Bye Eris,” you called, poking your head around the corner from the kitchen, arms working to tie a white apron around your waist. 

His eyes found yours, sparkling in the morning light that shines from the front windows. “Bye (Y/N), thanks again.” He offered you a smile before he ducked out the short front door. 

Eris felt Mrs. Aldrich’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you. 

_________________________

The next time he came by, it was still just as cold and just as early. He tried to take his time walking to the shop, but he couldn’t slow himself down - his hands itched, flexing at his sides, simmering with heat that poured out of him. The pocket watch in the front of his jacket told him he was a few minutes early, so he lingered along the cobblestones, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk. 

The lights in the cafe were on, but the specials sign was missing and the Closed sign hung across the green door. He chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands inside his pockets and turning on his heel. He thought maybe he should just leave, not wait around like a creep, and solicit the peaceful town. 

“Eris?” 

The male’s head lifted as he turned over his shoulder, meeting your soft smile. He lifted a hand to run through his messy red hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Hey (Y/N), good morning,” he stumbled over his words, too focused on his racing heart - beating almost as rapidly as the first day he saw you. 

You held the door open with your foot - the tip of your brown boot covered in flour, as the hem of your skirt was - and moved to pull the chalkboard through the door. The High Lord’s son pulled it from your hands, grabbing it easily with on and moving it as though it weighed nothing. He fixed it up on the sidewalk before turning to you with a smile. “Apricot sachertorte?”

You beamed at him, proud of your newest sweet treat, and propped your hands on your hips. You almost didn’t notice the Winter Court chill seeping through your clothes. You felt the heat he emitted, centuries of fire burning through him, drawing you to him. “You like chocolate, no?”

Eris ushered you inside, noting your missing coat when his eyes drew up and down your body. The dress you wore was thin, tight. Dusted with ingredients and a messy apron. He swallowed, forced some air into his lungs, and forced himself to not stare when you led him inside. “I have a certain weakness when it comes to chocolate.” And you. 

He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself - how his father would have killed him for even making a joke about having a terminal flaw. But he’d developed enough of a friendship that he’d actually made you laugh, and it was a sound he’d say nearly anything to hear it again. 

“Perfect then, take a seat and I’ll get some coffee for us.” Eris sighed in sweet relief, thanking you for saving him from having to ask you to sit with him again. 

You were quick to return with two mugs and two plates, one exceptionally large slice of the torte accompanied by a smaller one. He was quick to help you, settling into the table across from the fireplace. You’d hummed when you sat down, relaxing into the iron chair, and the male couldn’t help but wonder if it was the first time you’d sat down all morning. You drank your coffee like it came from the Mother herself, savoring the rich taste. “This is probably the fourth cup I’ve had this morning.” 

Eris wasn’t surprised. He was in the same boat himself, actually. He hadn’t been able to sleep all last night, not with the anticipation of seeing you. He’d forced his night owl of a brother to spar with him, tire himself out wielding the heavy steel sword. He’d fussed over battle plans and boring court papers. When that didn’t work, he’d even found himself in the kitchen, attempting what was intended to be a galette. When that didn’t work out, he gave up and laid in bed for a few more hours. He was tired, sure, but couldn’t fall asleep. 

“You ought to take a day off, sleep in,” he replied, taking a bite of the layered chocolate cake. Gods, if that was the last meal he’d eat, he’d be beyond satisfied. 

You shrugged, finger tracing the rim of your cup. “I could… but I just love it too much - even if I have to wake up early for it.” Eris nodded along. “Besides, what if you came by the shop and I was closed?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to settle the burn in his chest. “You’re right - ” he tried to play it off casually. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without your pastries.” Another job well done, he cursed himself. 

You smiled sweetly, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your head against your knuckles. “So tell me, Eris. What’s on today’s agenda? I can hardly believe you came all this way just for coffee and chocolate.” 

Oh how wrong you were. He’d go to the ends of Prythian just to spend one moment with you. 

“Taking care of some errands for my father,” he began, not interested in divulging too much. You understood, and simply nodded along, taking whatever he’d be willing to give out. “I have a meeting in the Winter Court.” 

“Ah, just a stop along the way, then.” He wasn’t sure if he heard faint disappointment laced in your voice, or if it was just what he’d been hoping to hear. 

“Well - yes, but…” It was one of those rare moments where Eris didn’t know what to say. “But I wish I could come more - I don’t want to bother you. I know a lot of your customers are uneasy when I stop by - ”

You cut him off, sitting straight in your chair. “You’re not - I love when you visit, Eris.” You fought against all your instincts to reach across the table and grab his hand. 

It was his turn to blush. Maybe he was overheating, what with all the layers and sitting in front of the fire. Or perhaps it was your bright eyes staring at him, burning into him, starting straight into the depths of his soul. “I wish I could stay longer, I’d like to - ”

But that godsdamned door opened again, a group of Fae walked in, conversation abruptly stopping when they noticed the fiery-haired male sitting at the table across from you. Eris stood in one swift motion, abandoning his fork and empty plate behind him. He noticed the young female that walked in, orange hair wild around her ears, starting straight at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

When he tossed a look over his shoulder at you, he saw your pink cheeks, chin tucked close to your chest. “Your highness,” one of the males began, bowing to Eris.

His friend smacked him in the chest, grimacing at his friend’s actions. “Shut up.”

Another female interrupted all of them, smiling broadly at Eris. “Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, dipping slightly in greeting. 

Eris had never felt more awkward in his life. He’d been trained in court politics, to lead armies, to host High Lord meetings on behalf of his father, to speak in front of hundreds of Fae. But never to talk with teenage Fae. 

“Good morning,” he replied as politely as he could, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he recalled his courtier training, standing tall and holding his chin high. 

He got a small confidence boost though, as the other males tilted their heads back to look up at him, and cowered a few steps backward. And although Eris was normally cocky enough to have loved to inflict that kind of response on others, it wasn’t what he should be displaying in front of a female he was trying to impress. 

“I have to be getting on my way, (Y/N),” he finished, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smirked, watching as you glared at your friend - the one whose eyes kept flitting between you and the High Lord’s son. 

Your attention was drawn back to Eris and he threw a wink your way before he left the cafe.  

_________________________

He winnowed back just after the sun had set, when the chill from the mountains was visible in each breath he took. Eris appeared right in front of your shop door, where the lights were dimmed and the sign on the door read Closed. 

Fuck, he’d cursed himself, fifteen minutes late. He’d rushed back as fast as he could, after having spent the day in the Winter Court, useless meetings with Kallias and his staff. Eris had nearly run out of the meeting room, winnowing before he’d even left the table and made it close to the door. 

But you’d spotted him, the brown wool coat and dark red hair from the window. You almost skipped to the door, something between a hop and a half-jog, making your way to the door before he’d off and disappeared again. “Eris, wait!” You’d called, unlocking the door and poking your head through. 

He smiled when he turned around, meeting you in the doorway. You held a broom in your hand, obviously close to leaving for the evening. No matter how tired you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you’d had a busy day, you still greeted him with a cheery smile. 

“I just wanted to,” he began, digging his hand through his pocket and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For this morning.” 

You shook your head, but took his wrist in your hand, pulling him through the door. Your fingers sparked when you felt his warm skin against yours. “You visiting is quite enough - ”

Eris groaned, wishing you’d held onto him for just a little bit longer. “I don’t need special treatment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t be nice to you anymore, Eris?”

He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim faelight. “Are you being nice to me or being nice to my family?” 

He watched you tut, giving him an indiscreet up and down. It almost made him nervous. “Just you.” And Eris smiled at that, his own selfishness getting the best of him, but glad you had invited him in. “I like when you visit. You don’t do it enough.” 

You’d set the broom against the table, hands clasped in front of you trying your damnedest not to look like a giddy child in a candy shop. Eris glowed, watching your movements, daring to see how much else you’d reveal to him. 

Eris was too busy staring at you, committing every feature of yours to memory, to respond. “How about some tea?” You asked, already making your way to the kitchen. 

“Please,” he nearly sighed, and no matter how happy and excited he was to be back at your bakery, he was still beat from a day of Winter Court bullshit. 

You disappeared only momentarily, returning just after you’d set the kettle over the stovetop, with two mugs in hand. You set them on the table by the window, the seats both cushioned with freshly fluffed pillows. Eris joined you, eyeing the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cups, a mixture of chamomile flowers, linden leaves, and peppermint. 

He smiled gratefully, seeing your body relax once you’d slid into the chair across from him. “You like it here?” Eris couldn’t help but ask. You seemed to work yourself into exhaustion, rising before the sun, staying past dusk, holed away in the quaint cafe. It was a small town, too far from the other Autumn villages to easily visit - though, he supposed there would be plenty of adventure in the woods beyond and the mountains between Winter. That ought to be dangerous, especially given the fact that if Beron found out about his subjects crossing the border, he’d outright banish or kill them. 

You smiled back at the High Lord’s son, him looking equally as tired as you must have. Light purple lined the tops of his cheekbones, starkly contrasting his otherwise luminous pale skin. His brows were taught, pulled together as if really contemplating your answer - or perhaps overthinking his question. He’d forgotten his coat on the back of his chair, a dark blazer underneath. His eyes glowed, his red irises burning brighter as the light from the windows faded.

“I do,” you hummed, content with your little date. 

But the screeching of the kettle interrupted you, and right as you placed your hands on the table to push yourself up, Eris stopped you. “Let me, please.” Before you could even respond, he was already on his feet, rushing off into the back kitchen to pull the kettle off.

He returned with the kettle in one hand and a bottle of honey in the other. He poured your cup first and then his, setting the hot water to the side. Surely, should you let him stay long enough, it would be easy enough for him to reheat later. 

“You were saying?” He continued, eyes locked on the mug before him, dropping in a swirl of honey to his tea. 

You bit your lip, pushing your mug closer to him. His eyes flitted up to you once before he repeated the action. “I like it here. It’s small - I know all of my customers by now. All of their names, their orders, it’s like a little family.” 

Eris nodded along, leaning back in his chair. “No problems with the Winter Court?” 

You rolled your eyes. I have more problems with the current court, if we were being honest. “It’s cold,” you replied. “It’s quiet. But far away enough that we aren’t…” You bit your tongue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with - ”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eris replied, not shocked with your response. “I understand.”

Just like any other Fae on the continent, he reminded himself: scared of his father. He wasn’t surprised, this would be the perfect town to escape Beron’s tight holds. It wasn’t close enough that he kept it under his nose, monitoring the town and the villagers. It wasn’t particularly useful to him - no major crops or orchards, maybe lumber from the redwoods, but there were far closer regions he could busy himself with. 

But he saw how quickly your brows raised and cheeks turned red at your comment. It was almost as if you’d forgotten he was the High Lord’s son up until that moment. 

Eris was ashamed to carry the Vanserra name. 

He finished off his tea, suddenly uncomfortable with keeping you so late. Maybe the reason you were so nice to him was because of who his father was. You were hosting him out of formality, not friendship or desire - you were probably afraid he’d go running back to the Forest House with your name at the top of his list. 

You reached a hand out to him, watching his lips turn into a frown and his brows narrow as he lost himself in thought. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If there is anyone who gets it, (Y/N), believe me - I do.” He took a long sip from the mug in his hand, set it down silently, and pushed himself from the seat. His hands fumbled over his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it shut. “I don’t want to keep you any longer - I’ve intruded quite enough.” He turned to the door, to avoid watching you awkwardly scramble to your feet. The sky was dark, the only light along the street was the glow from the faelights in the windows of the houses along the way. He turned back on his heel to face you, staring up at him, bewildered. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You pressed your lips together, clasping your hands in front of you. “I live upstairs, actually.”

“Ah.” It was all that came from him, which left the male cursing himself once more. Fucking idiot. “Well thank you again, (Y/N).” Back to formalities, back to square one. 

You nodded once more, watching as he turned to the door. As he reached for the handle, you stopped him, grabbing his other hand. His skin was burning hot and sent sparks into you. “You’re welcome anytime here, Eris.” You waited until he turned around, fully acknowledging your words. “And not just because of who your father is.” 

Eris nodded, albeit a bit numbly, as you sent his mind reeling the moment he felt your fingers grasp his. Should I do it?

He wanted to kiss you so badly. So badly that his fingers itched to grab you and pull you against him. You batted your eyelashes at him, all innocent as if you had no idea what you were doing. Maybe you weren’t doing anything - no signals, no invitation to kiss you, love you, fuck you. 

It was all in his head, it had to be. 

He couldn’t compromise your innocence, not when he’d already been seen alone in the cafe with you twice in one day. He could only imagine what the other Fae were thinking, how he’d either besmirched your reputation or created a scandal in the small town. 

“Then I’ll be sure to return more often.” With that, he gave your fingers a squeeze and turned - forcing every fiber of his being not to take you with him. 

_________________________

Eris couldn’t sleep again. Gods, he felt ill. 

He was clammy all over - absolutely disgusting. He’d forced himself from bed and into the bath, letting the cold water wash over him and take away whatever it was he was feeling. His heart was racing out of his chest, his breathing was jagged - it was unlike any other fever he’d had. 

And then he felt it, laying in the cold water of the porcelain tub. It felt like a rubber band snapped against his ribcage. It winded him, had him lurching forward and clutching his chest. He figured the copper taste in his mouth was a figment of his imagination, being no stranger to the taste of blood. Maybe he bit his tongue when he felt the snap, it had his heart lurching upwards into his scarred throat. 

Eris’s fingers gripped the edge of the cold bathtub - he felt the water turning hotter by the second. He couldn’t control the heat that emitted from his body, the simmering flames smothered in his palms. 

That was it.

That was it. 

He wasn’t dying - not if you could call being utterly grossly in love dying. 

His heart hammered in his chest and the fire roared through his veins. It felt like he was suffocating, sure, but it felt good. His hands were shaking, and he knew the only cure would be to have you in them. You were the one who could teach him how to breathe again.

He huffed a long shaky breath, leaning back in the tub until his back touched the now warm ceramic. Curls of steam began to dance on the surface of the water that seemed to be rippling in time with his heartbeat. 

Eris shut his eyes, trying his damndest to clear his head, to calm the fuck down. But all he saw was you, the flour that dusted your cheek, the apron wrapped so tight around your waist he wished it were his hands. He thought of your cheeks, rosy and red from the ovens, your plump lips sipping on tea, how sweet you looked drinking your milky coffee. Then he remembered the shape of your brow, how it quirked downwards when you’d mentioned his father, how you gnawed on that bottom lip of yours when he’d been in such a rush to leave. 

But it didn’t matter what you thought of his father, of the whole damned Autumn Court itself. He’d get on his knees before you to beg, plead for you to understand - it’s not his fault, it’s not him. 

So that’s what he set off to do. 

He pushed himself from the near boiling water, haphazardly drying himself off as he skitted to the wardrobe. He flung it open, opting for a casual pair of brown trousers and a white linen shirt. He ought to be prepared to do a lot of begging, spending the whole morning on his knees begging for you to accept him as a mate, begging for a taste. 

_________________________

It was only seven hours since you’d seen Eris, the whole time you’d spent thinking of him and replaying your latest conversation. It was very much the same after each time you’d seen him, spending the evening tossing and turning, picturing his red hair and soft smile, the freckles over his cheeks and that little scar under his eye. You imagined what it would be like to hold him in your arms, laying on top of you, suffocating you in the best way; you pictured what it’d be like for him to hold you, laying behind you, arms wrapped fully around you, holding you against his chest. 

But you laid in bed alone, staring at the clock until the golden hands ticked to three o’clock. 

You pushed the covers from yourself, shivering at the cold that swept through your bones. You’d gotten better at fighting that fight, the urge to stay in bed and revel in your warmth instead of forcing yourself downstairs at such an early hour. The warm ovens called to you, but you’d have to overcome the chill of the nearly Winter air and the cold hardwood floor. 

You wondered if it would be warmer with Eris there. As if the male just naturally heated every room he walked into - 

No. 

You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts of the Autumn heir from your mind. You’d only distract yourself. You knew the visit yesterday would have to last you for the rest of the month. You could only begin to count down the days until you anticipated his return. 

So instead, you shuffled down the stairs, pulling open your recipe book and setting out a few bowls. You hadn’t decided the day before what you were making yet - not like you usually did. Your mind had been much too occupied. You settled on figuring it out later, just starting with something simple and figuring out a custard later. With flour dusting the counter, you rolled out some dough, working it until it was so thin that it was almost transparent. A simple croissant surely would do, you’d thought. Maybe you could use up some of the pumpkin or raspberries…

You’d gone rifling around for inspiration when you felt a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the cold of the early morning, nor the chill from the produce cooler. No - it was the hard knock on the door, rattling the closed sign against the wooden frame. 

You bit your lip, debating wiping out all the Faelights - that no doubt alerted whoever was outside that you were in. But you had no choice, as the knock sounded again, softer this time, but still enough to prove your visitor’s determination to talk to you. 

Not once in your centuries of owning the cafe had you had a morning visitor. Nobody had ever shown up before opening, especially not at three in the godsdamned morning.

All you could do was grab your stone rolling pin from the counter, holding it between your two shaky hands as you trotted quietly to the door. But as you stepped around the counter and wove through the tables, you’d spotten a tuft of red hair through the window. 

Red hair, pale skin, long coat, the smell of firewood and burnt sage. 

Your heart stuttered, pure shock replaced with utter bewilderment. Your throat tightened, nervous as to what he may be visiting for - what you may have said that offended him. Then you sighed, dropping your head to stare at the thick cotton dress you wore, the wool sock on your feet. Fuck, you huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. The Mother could not have prepared you less. 

All you could do was pull the door open, holding the rolling pin behind your back. 

And when the door swung open, the cold coming in immediately, Eris’s eyes were blown wide. The red around his dilated pupils glowing against the dark of night. Gods you were so fucking beautiful. His gaze roamed over your messy hair, the loose dress that hung over your shoulders, the cozy looking socks on your feet. 

“Hey,” he said, quieter than intended. He cleared his throat, stepping closer, arms tightly pressed behind his back. “Sorry to - interrupt.” He couldn’t stop - his eyes were roaming, frantically moving between yours, trying not to wander over your body, his mind was reeling, heart was pounding out of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, breathing ragged - the bond was fucking with him. Absolutely fucking with him - he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand in front of you much longer without having to get his hands on you. “I regretted leaving so abruptly last night. I stayed late and should have at least helped you clean up.”

You smiled. He was so serious. Those red eyebrows were raised, mouth parted, almost frowning at the corners - so distraught. “Don’t make a fuss about it - I just like your company.” I miss when you’re not here. I miss your visits. 

I missed you. 

The corner of his mouth turned up, gaze softening at your apparent forgiveness. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. He moved his arm from behind his back, holding up a bundle of blue-ish hydrangeas - the flowers he hadn’t stopped thinking about bringing you. 

It wasn’t inconspicuous, like he hoped it would be. His mother caught on immediately, asking him why he kept inquiring about her flowers, what she’d pulled from the garden. Who are you bringing them for? He’d rolled his eyes at her, scoffing. I’m not bringing them to anyone, mother. I can’t show interest in the garden? So he’d been deterred from bringing them. He didn’t want to draw attention to it - to you - especially not from his father or courtiers. 

Until that night - until he had the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep, to snatch them from the table and winnow straight to you.

Your eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, jaw dropped, unable to speak. What did you say? What does one say to the High Lord’s son who brings you flowers. He brought you flowers. You simply couldn’t find the words. But when you looked back up at him, having to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, he looked so scared - unsure if you’d accept them, as if he’d made some horrible mistake. 

And you couldn’t help but laugh, having to bite your lip to stop yourself. You didn’t take the flowers, you took his hand, that warm, blazing hot hand, and pulled him inside. “Well, no point in letting all the heat out.” And as if on cure, he lit up, warmth erupting from him, his chest radiating heat into your hand and arm. “Thank you, Eris, I… don’t even know what to say.” You pulled your fingers away from his, taking the bunch of flowers in your free hand.

But you had to place the rolling pin down, having to set it on the table closest to the door. His brows rose. “Preparing for battle, I see.” He surveyed the white stone, nodding his head in approval when he heard the clang of the marble against the iron table. 

You huffed a breathy laugh, ushering him inside and placing them in one of the empty vases from the bookshelf in the corner. You’d set it up on the counter, where everyone would be able to see the beautiful flowers Eris had brought for you. “I was hoping,” he began from behind you, hands shoved into his pants pockets, boot kicking at the thick grout between the stones on the floor. “You might let me help you this morning.”

You turned on your heel, spinning around so fast that you’d nearly startled the normally steadfast male. “You want to help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not very useful - I wouldn’t say I’m the best baker.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I used to help my mother bake apple pie but - ” he finished with a shrug, laughing through his own awkwardness. 

You couldn’t stop your smile. “Of course you can, Eris.” 

And truth be told, the male wasn’t bad. He’d kneaded the dough, he’d prepared the raspberry filling, and even mixed some fresh whipped cream. He’d followed all your instructions and even prepared you a cup of tea in the meantime, while you worked on your own dough at the opposite side of the counter. 

You’d spent far too long watching his hands knead the soft pastry, his long fingers and large knuckles flexing as he pushed the dough around. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, forearms working with each move. You couldn’t help but notice the few missed buttons at the top of his shirt, pale collar bones peeking out. You’d made out some ridges over his skin, down his neck and tucked away underneath the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get a good look at it, not with the dimmed lights and loose shirt. 

He made light conversation, asking about the town, who your favorite patrons were. You’d asked him similar questions, how he likes fencing and polo, he’d indulged you in some childhood stories of wrestling his brothers in the Autumn rain - how they’d tracked mud through the entirety of the Forest House. When it came to his parents, though, the topic was off limits, as he’d scoffed and asked about your parents instead. 

By then, the hours had easily slipped past you - the pastries cooling after their bout in the ovens. Eris leaned against the counter, watching as you sliced the baked pumpkin you held in front of you, scooping the soft contents into a bowl to begin your filling mixture. 

His eyes watched your hands work, unable to meet your eyes, afraid of your response. “I have a confession.” 

You looked up only momentarily, not a stutter in the whisk as you continued mixing. “Confess away,” you replied softly, heart suddenly lurching into your chest. 

He swallowed thickly, but raised his gaze to your face - your focused look - as you stared back down at the bowl. “I - last night after I left - there was a…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. “I felt the…” Eris’s throat was closing. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, that he thought it would break all of his ribs. “I believe we’re mates, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly all air evaded you and your heart seemed to stop. Mates? Mates? Gods, you knew you liked Eris - who wouldn’t? The male was beautiful and tall and kind and -

You swallowed hard. To hide your shaking hands, you continued working on the pastries. You kept you eyes sole trained on the table in front of you, fearful that if you looked up, if you saw those red eyes before you, that you’d surely crumble away in a fit of tears, laughter - you weren’t quite sure.

You were elated.

So fucking elated, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t make a move - not an eyebrow raise, not a quirk of your lips, nothing. “I know we don’t really know each other - I’ve wanted to stay longer, believe me.” The male rambled on, filling the silence you’d offered. “I just felt this thing last night after I left and it’s been eating me away since and I already knew that I cared for you so much and you’re so - fuck, so godsdamned beautiful but I - ”

You straightened, pulling your shoulders back and dropping the whisk. “It’s okay, Eris.”

His eyes widened. “It’s okay?” What the fuck did that mean?

You’d turned to grab a pastry off the rack - the one you’d kneaded, the one that turned out so much flakier and taller than his. “It’s okay.” You smiled, though, but didn’t falter in your movements, continuing to assemble what looked like a dessert sandwich. 

He stared incredulously at you. “Did you… hear what I said?” 

And so you laughed, a light giggle that had Eris reeling. You pushed over the pumpkin Mille-Feuille, nodding at him as he stared at it like it was otherworldly. “You told me one time you liked the pumpkin turnovers because it was your favorite Autumn Court fruit.”

The male was bug-eyed. “This is for me?”

You nodded.

“Just for me?”

Again, with a smile, you nodded. 

Eris looked between you and the fluffy pastry. “For me?” He raised a hand and gestured between the two of you. 

“Yes, Eris. I made you a pumpkin pastry. For you.” His cheeks tinged pink, but let out a breathy sigh of relief. You added for clarification: “Not on the menu.”

Gods, yes. It was the only thought running through his mind. 

“And even in all that rambling, you haven’t asked me to be your mate,” you continued, voice raised an octave, teasing the poor nervous male. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to ask - but you cut him off. “I would love to be, Eris Vanserra.”

And while his heart rate didn’t slow down, he calmed, shoulders relaxed and eyes shut in relaxation. His hands fell to the treat before him, staring at the perfect little pastry. He could finally breathe again - as if in the past three minutes he’d been stilled, lungs, hands, and mind unable to work properly. 

But Eris dug in anyway, picking up the soft treat like it was the most delicate thing in the world. He took a big bite, holding his free hand underneath, catching all the flakes that broke off, saving every bite. He chewed slowly, licking his lips to savor the pumpkin flavor and the light pastry. His eyes fell to yours, wide and wanting, watching you like a hawk.

You didn’t dare move, frozen in place as the male ate. 

As the bond solidified.

As he became your mate.

By the time he’d finished, his breathing was ragged and he had to press his hands against the counter to keep his balance. You watched his chest rise and fall, the linen shirt loose on his frame but hugged his broad shoulders. Those red eyes burned into yours, as though waiting for you to make the first move. 

Or waiting for your permission. 

So you took a step backward, pushing yourself from where you’d been nearly clinging onto the counter, where it was holding you upright. And as soon as you’d freed yourself from the confines of the countertop, he’d pounced. Eris felt like leaping across the counter and pulling you into his arms. Instead, which might have cost his last ounce of decency, he’d taken the few long strides towards you and grabbed you. 

To be fair, he was as tender as he could have been, what with his heart beating up into his throat and his lungs burning, winding his arms around your back, fingers gripping the cotton that hung loose on your frame. His head dipped, immediately catching your lips with his. You were quick to follow his lead, throwing your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to meet him. 

Gods, he was warm - it was all that you could think of. His heat spread into you, the physical heat, but also those internal flames, the warmth that formed in the center of your chest as the bond built itself between the two of you. Sparks sizzled between you, and you were sure you felt them when your lips met in a fiery kiss. 

Your fingers threaded through your hair as his hands roamed your back. He tasted like cinnamon, like the pumpkin from your mating food, the burnt sage that mirrored in his scent, that filled the cafe as soon as he walked through the door. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” you breathed, a soft sigh against his lips as his mouth skimmed your bottom lip, over your chin, down across your jaw. 

He released something half crossed between a moan and a sigh. “We have time to talk about me,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your soft flesh. “Later.” His lips ran over your cheek again, and he left a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Much, much later.” 

You hummed in response, pressing yourself to his front again, chest, stomachs, legs - all of it. Eris groaned, sinking down on his knees, stopping when he was eye level with you. His red irises burned with an eternal flame, burned into you with the promise of forever. He wrapped his arms fully around your waist, his elbows at your ribs and knees on either side of your legs. He tilted his head forward, only until your lips met, noses brushing against each other. 

Your lips parted on instinct alone, the breath pulled from your lungs when his lips met yours - so soft, barely meeting at all. You could have cried, screamed, grabbed his hair and pulled him further against you. But all he gave you was a touch, so close your eyelashes nearly tangled. His mouth brushed yours again and you snapped - arms linked around him still, pulling him against you. “Upstairs?” You asked, fully against his mouth, the word muffled between your lips and heavy breaths. 

He shook his head, still not breaking the kiss. His hands ran down the small of your back and over your ass, cupping the back of your thighs and pulling you upwards, setting you on the counter in front of him. Eris let his fingers find the hem of your nightgown, trailing over the skin of your bare flesh. You were burning hot, like you ran a fever at his touch. In the cold air, his touch sent shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t wait, (Y/N).” His lips barely left yours. “I have to have you now.”

“Then get on with it,” you mewled, taking his hands in yours and dragging them up your thighs, under the gown. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this, Eris.” 

You leveled his gaze - it struck quite the nerve with him, he never thought he’d succumb to an ethereal being like you, especially not to one he got to call his mate. 

As his hands roamed under your gown, your own explored his chest, running over the lean muscle and pulling at the buttons. You’d pulled them apart one by one, eyes shut and mouth being devoured by Eris. He seemed to pay no mind, working his way to your hips, squeezing at your thighs. You opened the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, breaking away from him momentarily. 

And Eris felt it, felt it through the fresh bond between you. He felt your heart stutter, felt the shock that flooded your system. 

His heart stopped, lungs held his air hostage. 

And then you’d felt it - the utter disgust and shame that rang through him.

So you raised your hands, holding his jaw in your palms, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone - over the other faint scar that laced his skin. You weren’t sure what to say - if you should say anything at all. But he’d already noticed your surprise. That’s all it was - surprise, not in the hardened male before you, but at that any one male could endure that much pure trauma. You were not disgusted with your mate, not horrified at the scaring.

You we’re just… “What happened to you, my love?”

And he blinked a few times, turning his head in your hands and raising his own hands, holding your wrists in his palms. His throat worked, his mind rolling over the proper response. You moved your hands, dropping them down his cheeks, fingertips grazing the marred skin on his neck, the slashes over his collarbones and down the puckered skin of his chest. His hands remained on yours the whole time, feeling you work your way down his body. 

My love. It made the fire inside of him burn brighter. He imagined you’d felt it too, felt the initial draw toward him like he did to you - even before you were mates. 

“That’s a story for another time.” He whispered, gazing down at you from under his eyelashes. “If you’ll still have me.”

You were almost shocked to hear that - to hear him question your desire to be with him just based on his scars. You wouldn’t expect such doubt from him. So all you could do was sit up a little taller, pull you down to your lips and offer him the most reassuring kiss of his life. 

He made quick work of your dress, unbuttoning the small row of buttons behind your back. You shimmied the dress from under you, where you’d been sitting on the soft fabric, and let Eris bunch it up and drag it up over your sides and arms. He slid it off quickly, discarding it in a pile along with his shirt. His eyes and hands roamed over you, exploring the curves and ridges of your body. 

Your cheeks reddened, so exposed before the male you’d barely known, but longed for him to touch you. You’d thought of this moment many times, during those sleepless nights, some of which ended up leaving you with your hand between your legs. 

Eris felt your blush through the bond, he felt your outright attraction, the desperation you had. And he knew he mirrored it through the bond, too. It’s what made you pull him back into you, until he stepped right up against the counter and the front of those trousers were pressed against your undergarment. He ground against you, unable to hold in the urge as the ferocity flooded his veins, the bond finally taking hold of him now that he had you laid out in front of him. 

You moaned at the feeling, his hardened cock a tent in his pants, slotting perfectly between your lips. He moved up and down, gliding against the warm heat from your pussy, the smooth fabrics only aiding in his desperation - your too. Gods, you could have come from that alone should he only have kept going. 

But the male wasn’t having it. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, shucking both along your kitchen floor, discarded for what he hoped would be the next few days. 

Eris’s cock bounced up against his stomach as he neared you, the precum gathered on the tip mixing into the fine pale hairs that trickled down his bellybutton to the base of his cock. Eris wouldn’t even touch himself, deciding it would be fucking ethereal, should you reach out and grab him. 

And, luckily, you did, holding your hand out for him to step back into position. Your hand wrapped around his dick, fully hard and standing proud. You’d surely need two hands to work him properly, perhaps even your mouth, too. His skin was warm in your palm, hot and ready to combust as you ran your hand up and down, offering him a small squeeze as you neared the base, your thumb rubbing the tip when it slid up.

You couldn’t hold out much longer, either. You’d pressed him up right against your pussy as he just did, leaning back on your other elbow so you could further spread your hips. You held his cock with your other hand still, pressing it into your pussy. Eris began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, wincing at how wet your pussy sounded. His cock glided along your cunt effortlessly.

He braced a hand on the counter, on either side of you, and held his hips back. He let you continue to rub his dick as he leaned in close for a chaste kiss. He rubbed his nose against your ear, hot air stirring around you. “Are you going to let me fuck you, my love?” 

You moaned - you’d heard many tales of the trickster male’s wicked tongue, but hadn’t been granted the opportunity to hear him use it around you. You were very much looking forward to exploring that side of him. 

Gone was the chamomile drinking, flower giving High Lord’s son. This was Eris, hot and heady and ready.

His one hand moved over to hold yours, moving your fingers to grab his cock and angle it into you. You gasped as the head nudged your folds, pushing only the tiniest bit in. You clenched around nothing, as he rocked back and forth, the head moving against your entrance but not in. “Will you let me mate you? Fill you up? Claim you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, trying to move off the counter even closer to him, to inch his dick farther into you. “Please, Eris. My mate - ” 

You were cut off with a harsh gasp, Eris sunk halfway in as you rambled on. “Oh my gods - please.” 

He moved slowly, warming you up to his length. “Still so much more for you,” he murmured, holding your hand against your lower stomach. He pressed it softly into you, around your soft flesh, so you could feel him enter in you as he pushed his cock all the way, bottoming out.

He held there for a moment, reveling in how you squeezed your walls around him. It was unlike anything he felt before. The roaring in his chest from the bond fed straight into his cock - willing him to drive into you over and over and over. 

But as much as he wanted to hold himself back, he found himself moving faster and faster, hitting farther inside of you with each stroke. Your moans spurred him on - your gasps, your prayers to the Mother - to him. 

Your hands fell around you, gripping anything you could find, looking to anchor yourself on something, anything. 

“You feel so good, (Y/N).” He huffed, breathing becoming ragged as he fucked into you. “I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for you.”

His cock stretched you, the familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach already causing you to clench around him. “You have me, Eris, fuck.” He grabbed your hips, holding you still, driving into you harder. “Please, more, Eris.” 

So he rutted into you, Eris hooked his knee onto the counter, pushing himself up, joining you on the floury surface. Your arms splayed out, knocking over bowls and eggs, ingredients falling to the floor and clinging to your sweaty skin. He hooked his knees around either side of your hips, positioning himself directly above you, driving straight down into your wet pussy. 

He groaned - an estranged deep noise coming from the male’s throat. His one hand was positioned beside your head, holding himself above you - though, you wouldn’t care if that male suffocated you, if he laid all the weight he’d been holding all his life onto you - the other came to cradle your cheek, holding your jaw with his thumb brushed against your chin. Your breathing mixed with Eris’s, your shared air, heat, love. You sighed, feeling his cock drive deep into you, hit the deep spot inside of you - he stretched you, seeped into you, molded into you. 

He fucked you so hard that you felt yourself moving, inching closer to the edge of the counter. Your hair fell first, starting to fall over your shoulders and off the counter. But Eris held your head, cradled you as you neared the edge, feeling your stomach coil at the rhythmic pounding in your pussy. 

Eris didn’t stop until you came, until your fingernails dug into his biceps and you screamed his name. He followed behind you quickly, his hips snapping into yours until he painted you white, with his cum that marked the bond. He claimed you as his, and silently thanked the Mother for her blessing. 

His bright eyes washed over you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, lips swollen and bruised from his kisses, crying out for him. He watched how our brows knitted together, your skin was flushed with a pink blush. He committed everything to memory, the heave of your chest, the sweat across your collarbone, your throat working to gasp air. 

He pulled out of you, dastardly watching the mix of both of your cum slide out of your pussy. He longed to feel it, to drag his finger up your sweet cunt, to lick it up. He knelt above you, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing your hips, pulling you centered on the tabletop. You huffed a sigh, arms limp and covered in flour at your sides. 

His warm fingers caressed your hips, your thighs, the muscles burning from being spread so wide. You dragged a hand over his arm, up his shoulder until you met the back of his neck. Your fingers brushed through the back of his red curls. “We made quite the mess.” You were tired, sounded so breathless - it nearly made Eris’s knees wobble. 

He laughed, though, a hearty chuckle, quite proud of his creation. He surveyed the messy kitchen, in no shape to bake, to serve anything made from or around the mess that had become evidence of your mating bond. But after pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, the male was off, walked those long legs to the counter and scribbled down a note on a piece of scrap paper beside your recipe book. 

Even his handwriting was beautiful. “Closed until further notice.” 

He rushed back to you, scooping you in his arms, holding you tightly against him, even as you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Now you can show me this upstairs I’ve heard so much about.” And you knew right then that you’d be riding the high of your mating frenzy until Eris had learned every inch of you.

[cryptidsofwakemoor]

Chapter 11 - Gratuitous Waffle Violence

Matchstick uses eating utensils to varying degrees of success, while Tikki draws up a roommate contract.

~*~

Mystic

Morning comes again, as it always does.

And with it, the spicy smell of a hot drink, as the catalyst to his waking.

Sitting on the rug next to the couch is another mug of the hot 'cider' Tikki made the previous night- but he can smell something else, too. The scent of the only other hot drink he was familiar with, the one the scientists in the lab carried around sometimes. It was earthy and bitter, but not in an unpleasant way.

Clinking noises from the kitchen, and plap plaps. Tikki must be awake, and making something.

Spooky

Slowly he unfolds himself, lanky legs stretching out from under the blankets followed by his upper torso and arms, his bones popping. He wasn't used to sleeping on something quite this soft... Sprawled out on the couch, he turns his head to try and see what Tikki's doing, but all he sees is her back as she prepares something just out of his view.

He was almost reluctant to get up, but the smell of the cider beckoned, and his mouth was feeling dry. He leaned down and scooped the mug up from the ground, holding it carefully in both hands and slurping noisily.

Mystic

"Wow, your bones sound like glow sticks," Tikki comments, back still turned. "First time you're sleeping on something soft?"

She tried to hide how much the thought pissed her off. Who was responsible for taking care of this kid in the 'lab'? They were shit at their job. Probably on purpose, which made her more angry, which forced her to stuff that feeling away for another molotov cocktail that surely wouldn't detonate later.

"I made you more cider- sounds like it did the job last night," she continues, not waiting for a response. "You should start drinking more regular water after this, though. Can't have you dehydrated, and you'll get more energy back if you eat properly. Which probably means I shouldn't be giving you too much sugar, but ehh..."

Tikki eventually turns back around, this time carrying a platter over to a strange contraption on a rotating spit. She flips it open, and pulls a set of puffy, boxy discs from inside. Loading up a plate with four separate discs, she sets up a second platter with only two, and lathers them in a translucent golden-brown syrup. With a march in her step, still wearing her colorful fish pajamas, she goes back to the living room that seemed to their designated eating space for the moment.

Tikki holds out the plate to him, complete with the utensils he wasn't sure how to use, and sits with her own.

"You're going to want the cutlery for this one," she says, smirking as she sips from her hot drink. "It's very sticky without it. Then we can start talking plans for whatever you're doing."

Spooky

He took the plate and was just about to pick up the food with his other hand, though he stopped dead in his tracks when she warned about it being sticky. Remembering the nectar tubes outside, he was reminded all too well that ‘sticky’ meant having to wash off.

Not really keen on taking another bath so soon, he considered the metal instruments that were given to him along with the disc- a long, flat one and another one with four prongs. Tikki had used the pronged one just yesterday to eat the, uh... theeeee omm... omelet! Yeah, she stabbed it and used it to pick it up. Didn't seem too hard.

He sat down and put the white disc in his lap, wrapping his fingers around the handle of the pronged utensil until he was holding it in his fist. He then lifted it and stabbed it more viciously than necessary into the food disc at top of the stack, attempting to pick the whole thing up with it. The puffy food was soft despite its crispier outside, though, and fell off the utensil, landing with a syrupy plap back on the stack and lightly splattering him in the stuff.

He slouched forward a bit in response, his brow knit together as his eyes regarded the stack with a rather grumpy look.

Mystic

Tikki snorts into her mug, clearing her throat before setting it aside, and picking up her own utensils.

"You have to cut the waffle, first," she explains, taking the fork and poking it, then cutting into it with the knife in the other hand while the plate rests on her lap. "You can use the knife, or the edge of the fork if you're lazy, like me."

Tikki then does just that, using the side of the fork to cut another square of her food. It takes a bit more wiggling, but once it's free, she pops it into her mouth just as easily.

"I'll get you a wet napkin after we eat, don't worry about it."

Spooky

He huffed out a breath and picked up the knife in his other hand, holding it just about as clumsily as he did with the fork. He stabbed the stack with the fork once more, then stabbed his knife into it as well, awkwardly sawing back and forth with it until it scraped noisily against the plate.

He stopped, grimacing at the sound but... there weren't any pieces free yet, so he wrenched the knife to the side and started sawing again.

Yeah, he was definitely going to need a napkin.

At last he managed to get it into smaller pieces... He stabbed those, carefully lifted them up to his mouth, and finally was able to take a bite. His eyes widened. While this whole utensils thing had been a bit more complicated of a way to eat something... It was so fucking worth it! The... bread? was nice and crisp, and the syrup was way better than the sugar water in those flower tubes. Prior annoyance forgotten, he licked his chops and went to stab another piece.

Mystic

Tikki shakes her head in mild amusement, eating some more of her own waffles.

"You might have an easier time if you're a bit more gentle about it," she says, smiling tiredly as she lifts her mug and takes another drink. "Moving harshly is what splattered the syrup. One sec-"

Tikki goes to the kitchen, grabs a napkin from a rung, and soaks it with a bit of hot water. Returning to the couch area, she holds it out to him.

"Here- you can wipe off the syrup with this."

Sitting back down, she hums, finishing her own two waffles in short order.

She waits quietly while he eats, drinking more of her mystery drink.

"So..." she says, finally breaking the silence once he's had time to work through the stack of waffles. "What's your plan going forward, Sticks? Do you have an idea of what you want to do?"

Spooky

He paused and looked up from his plate, his cheeks visibly stuffed with waffle and syrup dripping from his mouth. Then, still wide-eyed, he looked past her, not really at anything in particular.

Plan going forward? He'd been on the run for a while now, technically free even if he was being hunted, but up to this point it felt like his days had to be almost entirely devoted to his continued survival. If it wasn't hiding, it was food and water he was primarily focused on.

Now that those needs were met, though...

Now what...?

His eyes focused on her again, and he looked almost as if he was expecting her to continue on with what she wanted him to do, but no instructions were forthcoming.

Feeling lost, he gave a noncommittal shrug and went back to eating.

Mystic

Tikki hums, frowning a little.

"Okay, maybe that was a bit too broad," she acquiesces, cleaning a bit of syrup off her plate with the fork and nibbling it off the tines, almost literally chewing over her thoughts. "Anywhere in particular you want to go? You don't have to stay in this town if you don't want to- from the sounds of it, you seem pretty scared. I can help, but... I don't know, I guess I just feel bad that you seem so afraid all the time. You shouldn't have to be."

She felt a little bad pointing it out, but it needed to be said. She was observant. She'd seen him running for cover in the trees, acting like exposure to the world for even a fraction of a second meant certain death. Granted, she had no idea which 'lab' was responsible for... this. Whatever they'd done to him. Who knows, they could be near town.

"...it- reminds me of how I used to feel, early on," Tikki explains, scratching at one arm. Her pointed fingers catch lightly on the silver scales that faintly dust over her regular teal ones.

Spooky

With his waffles now gone too, he stuck the end of the fork in his mouth for a minute as he tried to think. When he took it back out again, the tines were red hot.

"Where else...?" He mumbled, looking down at the syrup puddle on his plate. It wasn't very reflective, but he could see the vague circular shadow of his head in it, blocking out the light that would otherwise be making it shine.

He truly didn't know any other place in this world, and it had taken a while just to get used to this one. Maybe it would've been better to just have kept running until he was far away, but even on the outside it seemed like he couldn't really escape. How long would he have to run until he didn't see that logo anymore? Until he knew he was out of their reach?

"They're ehn... ev... everywhere," he added.

Mystic

"...oh."

Tikki seems saddened by this, frowning as she looks down at her own empty plate.

"...I'm sorry," she says. "I know I didn't have anything to do with it, but- well, somebody has to say it."

...

"...who did it?"

Dangerous question to ask. But then, it was dangerous for her to simply have him in her home, and she seemed fine enough breaking that rule.

Spooky

He slid his fork around in the syrup, though he made no move to lick it or anything- it was just movement for movement's sake.

He was clearly hesitant to answer... Not because he didn't trust Tikki by this point, but moreso that he was afraid. Perhaps irrationally so, since it wasn't like it would summon them to just utter the name of it... But knowing that didn't ease his paranoia any. Still... if he was going to stay, she deserved to know, if only so she knew who to avoid too...

After seeming like he wasn't going to say anything, he finally opened his mouth and spoke again, this time in a whisper.

"Aria."

Mystic

...

"...wait."

Tikki says nothing for a moment as the gears turn. She sits up, removing a small tablet device from a pocket on her pajamas. She taps at it for a second, staring at the screen on the front as a light comes on, casting faint illumination on her cheeks.

"Aria, as in- the megacorporation? The company that does appliance and tech delivery, and is a giant monument to the follies of capitalism?" Despite almost none of these words making sense to him, Tikki seems to be getting incensed the deeper she goes, so it must have communicated something accurate to the true Aria conglomerate. "Ugh. Figures it would be a giant business with its fingers in so many pies that it could pay to get away with murder."

It was truly sad how little of an exaggeration that statement was. Tikki had no doubt in her mind that if this kid stayed where he'd been before, and proved not useful enough to whoever deemed the criteria, they could have simply erased him. Be done with him and act like he was never there- against his will or not.

"You can't leave, then," Tikki continues, thinking. "Otherwise, you'll get caught by the vainglorious manchildren with too much padding in their wallets. I'm certainly not going to turn you over to that. So... do you want to stay, then? Again, I don't have much, but... I have a roof and a couch, and I'd like to think I'm pretty good at avoiding the public eye."

Spooky

There were a lot of terms being used that were flying over his head, but as he leaned to try and get a look at her screen, his wide-eyed, anxious reaction upon seeing the logo was all it took to confirm it for her.

He stared down as she scrolled through the results, his shoulders tense.

While he had been developed in their labs, the fact remained that he didn't understand the full scope of what Aria was. How could he? He had seen computers before plenty of times, but he'd never been allowed to use one himself. He'd never had money before, to his knowledge. The smiling, corporate facade of this company was just baffling to him, it painted a friendly picture so alien from the place he was used to that it gave him a severe sense of tonal whiplash just to think about it.

Listening to her, though, was kind of cathartic even if he didn't know some of what she was saying. Her anger was a small comfort to him, and it made him feel less alone in the world to know he had at least one person who had his back in this case.

Even though he was worried about what they would do to her if they found her, let alone what they would do if they found out she'd been hiding him...

At this point, the question wasn't whether or not he wanted to stay- he did, very much so. The question was really more like 'am i willing to risk Tikki's safety?' Tikki was the first and only truly friendly face he'd encountered... that he... didn't struggle to recall from an old memory, anyway.

On one hand, it would be dangerous, but on the other... He was a weapon. If they did track him down, or did anything to hurt Tikki... He would make them hurt too.Or worse.

Looking back up at her with a more resolute expression, he nodded.

He wanted to stay.

Mystic

Tikki smiles, pleased with this response- and kind of relieved.

“Oh good,” she exhales. “I wanted to give you the choice, but I won’t lie, I was probably going to worry about you a lot if you left.”

Tikki sets her plate aside and claps her hands together.

“Then, I guess we gotta draw up a roommate contract. Y’know- lay down some terms so we’re both comfortable.”

She leans over to rifle through a drawer of the cabinet set under the silent television, removing a yellow paper pad and pencil. Snapping the paper out flat, she places it on her knees and starts writing, talking while she does so.

“I’ve never had to share a space with someone that wasn’t a sibling before, much less on land, but I think I can handle that. Since this is my house, here are my terms: One, obviously you don’t have a job, so you can’t pay rent. That’s fine- but you’re going to have to help me around the house. Managing a space for two people is a challenge on my own, and in the process, I can teach you how to take care of yourself. Like laundry, cooking, etcetera... I’m not going to be your maid, but you’re not going to be mine, either. Could be helpful in an emergency, like if I get um- indisposed. Basically I’m just saying we help each other, okay? Two, you don’t sell out my uh-“

Tikki scratches behind her neck.

”-medical condition to any authorities. I’m not even normal by non-human standards, but hey, neither of us are very normal, are we? It’s like we’re made for each other,” she jokes.

Tikki finishes writing her notes, tapping the pencil on the paper before her gaze slides over to him.

“Does that sound fair? Anything you’d like to add, any rules you want to lay down?”

Spooky

The corners of his mouth quirked up a little at her relieved response, though it quickly turned to a look of surprise when she grabbed a paper and started talking about a 'contract'. That was a word he'd heard before, he was pretty sure, but like most things he overheard in random conversation snippets from scientists, he didn't have enough context to really understand what it meant.

Listening to Tikki though, he was able to figure out that it seemed to be some form of agreement. Wasn't sure why it had to be written down though... Maybe so both people wouldn't forget it?

Idly licking the syrup from his plate as he watched her write, he did his best to follow what she was saying- he wasn't sure what a rent was or what 'indisposed' meant- but he was able to grasp the main idea of it. 'Help each other' seemed reasonable enough.

Second part seemed obvious enough to him that it didn't really need to be written. After all, he did already promise that he would keep the secret! But if she felt better writing it on the paper too, well, that would be alright.

It sounded fair enough, so he gave a nod to that question, though when asked if there was anything he wanted to add, any rules he wanted... He got that far-off look in his eyes again and set the plate back down in his lap, immediately paralyzed by choice. While in the lab there were a lot of decisions he wished he could make in regards to his living situation, like no more ‘resilience testing’ chambers or shackles, or no more jabbing metal shit into his back... It didn't seem like Tikki's house had anything of the sort, and he'd only been here for one night.

What could he want that would apply to this place? He glanced over at Slithers as if to see if he had any ideas, but as Slithers was an inanimate plushie, no suggestions were forthcoming.

He gave an awkward shrug to Tikki. There was only one thing he could think of that was super obvious, but if they were gonna write everything down, might as well.

"Hh... Hide me... from Aria," he said.

Mystic

Tikki nods, not questioning the request in the slightest.

“Good, we’re on the same page.” She puts a line on the paper between her points and his, writing ‘Stick’s Rules’ above his section. “We can add more if you think about anything later.”

Tikki finished writing, and signed it with a looping scribble of some sort.

“I do have a guest room,” Tikki explains, sheepish all of the sudden, “but it’s- not furnished. I never had a reason to buy a second bed, and I was… kinda using it as my indoor hiding place when I change? So unfortunately that room isn’t usable right now, cuz it’s just kinda an empty box. Maybe sometime soon, though, once I save up enough money, we can set you up in there? Apologies in advance for any damage to the room. It’ll take a while, so you can have this living room as your space until that day. I don’t use it much anyway, the fireplace dries out my scales.”

Spooky

He blinked, perking up a little bit in intrigue. A room of his own?

His cell back at the lab had been very sparse save for restraints, and it was more part of a larger room with heavy duty viewing windows separating them. Needless to say it hardly felt like a space to call his own, not with so many eyes on him.

He would gladly take an empty cameraless box over that, at least it offered some privacy. In the meantime, though, the living room seemed nice.

...Why was it called a living room, though? Didn't seem like it was alive, any more so than the rest of the building at least. Weird...

Still, the thought of staying in it was kind of exciting- it was warm, had a lot of stuff to look at, there were good smells from the kitchen, and he liked the fireplace. It was probably a good thing he didn't have any scales to worry about drying out.

...That did remind him, though. Tikki was a fish lady. Weren't fish supposed to live in water? There was an aquarium at the lab. He'd only seen it a few times in passing, but it was a rare spot of colors and visual interest in an otherwise mostly monochrome environment, and he probably could have watched it for hours if they'd have let him. There were fish in Tikki's room too, though that tank wasn't nearly as big, nor populated.

The only water he'd ever seen Tikki in, though, had been the pond outside. Did she normally go in there when it wasn't iced over? Hm...

That in turn made him wonder about the place she said she was from before. Picking up Slithers and looking down at its beady lil' eyes, he thought for a moment before asking: "what's... Sea?"

Mystic

Tikki blinks. Her eyebrows raise when she realizes what he was asking.

“Oh- the sea! It’s a large body of saltwater, just a few miles away, also called the ocean. You can’t drink it, but the water is home to a lot of colorful fish, animals, and plants. My people live there- in your tongue we’re called ‘mermaids’. There are some of us that can live in rivers, but most of us live deep in the ocean. It’s my-“

She pauses, the cheer dissipating for a brief moment. When she speaks again, it’s muted.

“-was my home.”

Spooky

It didn't escape his notice how her expression seemed to light up when she started describing it, but faded so quickly at the mention of her leaving. It was... very clear she hadn't wanted to go. Something had forced her to leave. Whatever the reason was, it probably prevented her from going back, too...

Remembering Slithers's purpose, though, he lifted the plush up and nudged her shoulder with it, trying to hand it back to her.

"...don't like water..." he mumbled, sliding his hand over the nape of his neck. "liked... watchin' fish, though." His voice was still weak, but it was at least sounding a little better today, and not as much like he'd been gargling gravel.

Mystic

Tikki glances over in confusion as she feels something squish against her. Then she smiles, seeing the plush. She takes it and gives it a small hug.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. “You’re a good kid.”

A sigh.

…after a few moments, she places the plush back on the couch next to him. She appreciated the gesture.

“Yeah? Fish like watching us, too,” Tikki says with a chuckle. “You gave the guppies a big spook when you woke us up. They’ve been babbling about you all morning. They think you’re some kind of giant walking eel.”

Tikki stretches her back, grunting as the vertebrae pop a little.

“Any other questions you got for me? Since we’re laying all cards on the table now, might as well, I guess. You already know my biggest secret.”

Spooky

There it was again, that odd chuffing kind of laugh, the best he could manage currently. Eels were those noodly ones with all the teeth, right? He only really saw them poking their heads out from rocks in their tank for the most part, but they looked kind of goofy. The mental image of him poking his head out of a rock and opening and closing his mouth a lot just struck him as way too silly not to laugh, despite the state of his voice.

"Tell 'em sorry," he rasped, coughing a little from the laugh. He didn't mean to spook them, but at this point he was kind of used to that reaction.

That did remind him, though, of something else odd he noticed the night before. "...I couldn't h- hear 'em..." he whispered, trying to give his voice a break. He'd seen them swim towards Tikki, and they seemed to be the ones to wake her... but surely enough, he'd only heard the bubbling of the filter at most.

Mystic

"Oh don't worry, I did," Tikki giggles, sipping from her mug. "Guppies aren't the brightest, and thought your glowing eyes meant you were a predator there to eat them or something."

Hearing him whisper and cough, she reaches over and pats him on the shoulder.

"It's okay, take it easy on your throat. You'll probably need several more days of resting your throat and drinking cider or tea with honey to heal whatever damage you may have."

Tikki takes his mug, which was now empty, and goes to refill it in the kitchen.

"I'd be surprised if you could hear them!" Tikki says idly. "It's a mermaid thing- we can talk to fish, and understand them. They're not always intelligent, it can depend on the individual, or even type of fish. Usually larger fish are smarter- bigger brains to absorb more information, n' all. Anything that's not a fish, like turtles or otters, are harder to communicate with; not quite the same language."

Spooky

Huh... That sounded pretty nice, talking to animals... even if only a certain type of 'em. He'd seen a few animals at the lab, and plenty more of them while roughing it outside, but they didn't seem to like him. They usually ran away before he could even get close, which made sense for the wild ones, but even the domestic ones that were perfectly fine with being around humans seemed to freak out when they saw him. Which sucked, because they were cute, and it seemed like it would be nice to pet them...

His gaze drifted down to his hands, and his eyes fell half-lidded as he sighed. Yeah, right... Probably better that he didn't, he'd probably just crush or burn them by accident or something...

He didn't notice Tikki returning until a refilled mug entered his view, and it almost made him jump for a second.

Mystic

"I don't blame you for being skittish," Tikki says, somber as she hands him the refilled mug. "I don't know your full story, but I can imagine you've been through some hell. It's okay if you need time, there's no shame in it."

Leaving him to his drink, she picks up the contract and folds it, tucking it into a pocket on her pajamas. Hands now mostly free, she grabs his abandoned plate and stacks it on top of her own to go clean.

"Which reminds me- you've been kinda running around in tatters for a while." Tikki looks over her shoulder from the sink. "You need clothes besides- y'know- a blanket. Are you fine with hand-me-downs? Just nod yes or shake your head for no, to save your voice."

Spooky

He looked over his shoulder and tilted his head at the term 'hand-me-downs', having never heard it before, but... he did know what clothes were, and while the blanket had been doing okay at keeping him warm, it was a little annoying to have to hold it around him with his hand to keep it from falling down...

Also, a quick look at the shorts he'd been in since before he'd even escaped- now threadbare in places and torn in others- told him they were definitely not going to last much longer.

Not wanting to go completely without, he looked back up at her and nodded quickly, his face faintly glowing in embarrassment.

Mystic

Tikki accepts that answer.

“Awesome. I’ll see what I have that fits- might be a little big for even you, since I’ll need to pick something not form-fitting, but you’ll grow into them.” She gives him a quick, wry smile. “As if you’re not already a beanpole, heh.”

True to her word, once Tikki finishes with kitchen cleanup, and walks back off toward her room and disappears again for a few minutes. He can hear the distant clatter of moving drawers and the creak of hinges on closet doors, along with a faint plastic clicking noise. Eventually, she emerges with a small armload of cloth.

“Got some sweatpants and leisure shirts that’ll probably be fine,” she says, rifling through them before lightly tossing them in his direction. They land on the couch cushion with a pff. “Mostly just comfort clothes. Go ahead and use the bathroom whenever you want to change.”

Spooky

He made a face at the beanpole comment as she turned back around to finish up in the kitchen. Beanpole? What does that even mean??

When Tikki left to get the clothes, he looked himself over front and back, trying to figure out what she meant. The moment he heard her returning, however, he quickly stopped and pretended to just be chillin' out with his arms loosely crossed instead.

When she unceremoniously tossed the clothes on the couch next to him, he was quick to start checking them out. On top of the pile was a big shirt that, when held up, had a drawing of an orange animal sleeping in a red box, with a blue blanket draped over them, and the words 'I HATE MONDAYS' on it.

He blinked, before shrugging and tossing it back on the clothes pile. He then scooped the whole thing up in his arms and went off to the bathroom to get dressed.

~*~

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New reader? You can start here!

[thecameronchronicles]

Midsummers

TW: Brief angst. Smut. Language.  DOM!Rafe.

SUMMARY: The night that was supposed to be the one you'd always dreamed of takes an unexpected, and erotic, turn, with an unexpected person. 

WORD COUNT: 2700

REQUESTED:

hiii i have a rafe request if you get the chance!! maybe a sarah’s friend reader who gets cheated on by jj, so sarah makes rafe ask her to midsummers and things get spicy!? love your writing💕🥰

Midsummers

You had spent the last two weeks barreling through boutique after boutique just to get the perfect dress for tonight. Where others would use tonight to display their riches through some ensemble or conversation about upcoming events within their lives, you had articulated every detail to raise your confidence enough to finally act on your crush. But as you stood before the mirror with Sarah's encouraging words swirling in your mind, you were blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes that had made note of you. Still a set of eyes wore the same Cameron name, but not the ones you expected. And ones you never noticed having observed you this way. Just as they always had. 

"Whoa!" Topper exclaimed as you emerged from within the rear of the Island Inn Resort where the annual Midsummers event was being held. 

"I just saw him..." Sarah explained as you looked at the small collective of pogues banding together once JJ happened to draw the attention of one of the security guards. But as you'd hoped to have finally had a chance to express your unwavering feelings for him, you watched him dote over Kiara. The way she stood up for him. The way he wrapped her into a spin as she left the scene had been enough to not only squander your feelings for him but also any possibility of him learning of why you'd spent so much time in an appearance you usually left decorated barely. 

"All pogues are idiots." Rafe's voice sent your hand to your cheeks to quickly brush away any  evidence of your heartache. 

"They shouldn't even be allowed on the property...broke so many glasses that Rose is going to have a conniption." You scoffed at this as you saw the beginning of this take hold as she was just in earshot to hear her rage against members of the help. 

"Drink?" He offered as you looked at the bottle he'd hijacked from behind the bar and considered the numb feeling it could offer. But much like a crush, you knew the risk and ride was not worth the hangover the next day. 

"I think I'll just go home..."

"What? No! At least not until you dance with me.'

"Rafe Cameron doesn't dance."

"He does right now." He stood, extending his hand as you led him towards the remainder of the guests before he pulled you back towards him. 

"For you." A soft sway began with the distant music supplying the perfect ambiance for what should have been a pristine romantic moment. But in your attempts to feel such things, you would be met with that dull ache of a broken heart. Yet, there existed a comfort in his arms. A safety. All because he was the friend you'd known and appreciated, even despite his flaws. The soft pattern of his heartbeat existed as a lullaby of sorts to your tired pain as you basked in it as long as you could. 

"Guys like JJ can't appreciate beautiful things..." Rafe explained as he'd pulled away from you just long enough to brush a hair from your cheek. 

"They just taint it...But...Can I ask you something?" You nodded, his soft eyes suddenly evading your own. 

"I overheard you and Sarah...all the shit you did for him tonight...and...I just...why him? I mean you could have any guy here...So...why some pogue who doesn't even notice it?"

"Because I don't want to be stuck, Rafe. I can see it in so many people here. The way they look deadpanned at everything and... they're miserable and it's terrifying. So I want a love, even for just the summer, that I can look back on and know it's possible...even if it hurts." 

"And you thought Maybank was that?"

"I hoped." Suddenly Rafe surprised you, a hand set on either cheek as his steps stopped. 

"What if someone felt the same about you? Maybe someone you didn't...notice?"

"Rafe?" His lips rushed against yours. 

He was a friend. He was your best friend's brother. But he was also always there when you needed him. He was a source of a smile when your cheeks were stained with tears. He was those arms you ran to when you had moments like this. Most of them having been founded on convenient timing or the fact Sarah was busy. But you'd never thought of him beyond those former titles. Because of what he was. Forbidden. A risk. And yet, the way he held you now, you would wage war against the world to keep his touch to you. 

His fingers were behaved at your hips but informing you of his need as he dug into the satin fabric beneath the curved fingertips. Once he was relieved to find your response to him, he used that grip to bring you harder into him. A tongue brushing your bottom lip sent your lips into a delicate part whereas your fingers became wrapped around the lapels of his suit, leading him even closer. 

"Rafe-" The breathless sound of his name led him to need more of you. All of you. But he was too impatient to guide you to any of the room of the hotel. Instead, he pulled you to the direction of the nearby wall where he could bask in your winded pattern of attempted breathing. 

"The first thing he should have done was told you how beautiful you look..." He explained while his hands moved down from your cheeks and to your hips, tracing over your breasts with a sinister grin that informed you that he knew his exact effect on you. 

"I watched you stand in front of that mirror fixing every hair...every line made in the dress as you checked yourself from every angle. All wanting to look perfect for someone who isn't deserving of seeing you in this dress...much less out of it..." Your cheeks flushed in crimson as your lips parted to speak. 

"I want to earn it. Even if it takes all night...I want to earn each and every one of those little moans and whimpers he'll never know..." Your eyes widened before he kissed you again. This time, one hand at your breast as the other lowered between your legs. A slit of your dress made this possible as you relaxed your stance, only to feel it then tighten from his touch. He teased your sex over your clothed clit before setting your leg at his hip. His thumb brushed the sight of your panties, possible from this angle and the fit of your dress. 

"You chose blue for him? Be honest." You nodded before he suddenly tore them from your hip. A gasp emerged behind illuminated yet lust blown eyes. 

"You wear red for me. Or you wear nothing." His hand took a form but cautious hold of your jaw. "If you choose nothing, you're giving every consent to let me touch you when I want. And I'll take it. Whenever. Wherever..." 

"Please..." Your cheeks became feverish from his words. The simple idea of him, in any context, was unbelievable. And yet, he was the salve to your raw wound. 

"You think I'd let anyone else see that face right now...let alone when you come? I don't think so...I've earned it...why do they get to enjoy it?"

"Please, Rafe...I'll be quiet." To this, his lips spread into a wide grin. 

"You don't understand. I want you to scream for me...only me." He led the hand to your face down to your hand before he collected your panties and brought you into the heart of the hotel. Guests who knew both of your families had attempted to stop you, but Rafe made an excuse you did care to note. 

"You got a room?" You asked as he pinned you against the door as it came open, the sound access granted by an electronic click making your heart skip in excitement. 

"The suite for the chair of the committee. It's Rose's niece's...but she's busy with Kelce...So tonight… it's ours and you're mine." He paused for a second. 

"If you want to be. You get one chance to walk away-" 

"I don't want to."

"I can't promise to be gentle..." You took a step closer to him, hands back on the lapels of his suit. 

"I don't want gentle. I want..."

"I'll give you everything you've ever wanted. All you have to do is say it." He explained. 

"You." He collected you into a tender kiss as your fingers were desperate to assess him. The stone torso beneath rose with humor validated from a smirk. 

"We have all night..."

"I need to feel you...all of you.." He grunted. 

"Take this dress off. Slowly." You bit your bottom lip as he pulled his cufflinks loose. Your eyes remained on his before he moved to you again. 

"I changed my mind, turn around." You obliged, now facing the bed as you felt him remove your zipper. Your breath hitched to the bare skin kissed by the backs of his knuckles. 

"He doesn't deserve to see you like this..." He explained as you turned to face him. 

"Jesus..." He released a deep exhale as you ran your hands at his naked torso. But as you tried to adore his physique as you allowed him, your wrists were bound. But only for a breath as he led you towards the bed. 

"You're so fucking beautiful. I could stare at you all night. But I've done that for the last five years...I think my patience should be rewarded." Before you could speak, you were taken to the bed until his weight pinned you beneath him. You were pulled to his desire, hands set over your head. 

"Don't move them unless it's to grip the sheets." You nodded as he began a trail of kisses from your jaw to your navel, taking a moment to appreciate each breast. 

"I didn't think you'd grip them quite yet...'

"But your hands feel so good..."

"I'm just getting started, baby..." He continued his descent until he came over your sex. His breath leaving you cold beneath as he smirked  to the way you groaned for him. The expression of necessity making him lick his lips. 

"You can be as loud as you want for me. Don't insult me by trying to be all ladylike..." He offered one final cast of the raise of his grin before his tongue came to your clit. 

"You already taste so good for me...all for me." You nodded as you reached for his hair, his body quickly returning your hands over your head. 

"You only pull when you're about to come...you're already so wet it's hard to tell." Your eyes rolled as he projected his ringed finger inside of you while his tongue returned to work. 

"Rafe!" You belted. 

"Mmm... you taste so good..." He retreated, pulling your legs wider as you fisted into the sheets above your head. 

"You really think Maybank would know how to make you grip those sheets like that?" 

"No!"

"Prove it...Say my name again. Just as desperately as before. Like you want him to hear you." As you agreed by doing exactly as he asked, he smirked into you as he built you to that orgasm. 

"How do you wanna come-"

"I don't care!" 

"I'm only going to be able to let you do it once before I need to. So tell me-"

"Right here! Don't stop!"

He teased a lick of his lips before nodding. His motions were slowed but thorough as he was a means to the way of your release. 

"Rafe!"

"You know what to do if you're close." Whimpering behind a bottom lip clenched by your teeth, you tugged tightly as his hair now disheveled by your grip. 

"Come on my face, baby..." He spoke quickly, returning to you once again as your hips were held down by his grip as you lost control in the waves made by your back. Arching and clenching, whimpering and pleading, all until you spilled over his grin. He looked at you with a wide grin. .

"Oh baby...you made such a big mess..." His smirk widened even further. 

"I want an even bigger one on my cock." He turned you to your stomach, kissing you in a rather awkward but adjusted bend, as you were taken upwards.

"This ass is almost perfect..." A slap made you yelp as his lips nearly reached his ears with pride. 

"Now it is. My handprint right here..." He rugged the assaulted skin. "Just as it should be." 

"You want my cock baby? How about we beg one more time for me? Yeah? Just one?" He almost latinized as you nodded. 

"Please, Rafe. I need you inside me..." 

"Then put me there..." He teased you with his naked cock, a motion you were too wrapped in your own bliss to notice he'd made. 

"Good girl. You know where it goes...slowly...I could come with how fucking wet and tight you already are..." You struggled to keep your moans compressed as you guided him into you. 

"Bring it back slowly baby..." He orchestrated you through his order as he guided your hair into his fist and pulled you to his chest. 

"You feel that right there?" He flexed his cock inside of you,making you shudder. .

"This is how it should always be. When it isn't in your mouth or hand..." 

"Rafe-" 

"But for right now...you're gonna prove I'm the one you're thinking of. So make me come...and maybe I'll let you just one more time..." 

"Ahhh..." You began to main as he brought you into a steady rhythm you were guided to upkeep.  Your eyes rolled to how deep and full he left you feeling the walls of your sex clenching to him just as gluttonous as his nails had been to you. 

"Fuck! You feel like heaven..." You moaned. "Faster..." You obliged, your body moving in slow strides to him, accelerating to this request. 

"Rafe please!"

"What are you begging for? If you want something, you can get it, baby...just ask..."

"Fuck me?"

"Like you mean it..."

"Fuck me, Rafe!"

"Here?" He asked, a harsh thrust stilling your movements as he continued to tease you. 

"Oh, you wanna come again? Isn't that a bit greedy?"

"I don't care...you feel so good...please..." 

"With a hand wrapped around your breast, he pulled you even closer to him. 

"You haven't even felt me here..." He explained while brushing your bottom lip. 

"Next time. I wanna feel you come inside me! Please!" You shook over him as he smirked. 

"Who am I to deny to my girl?" He began steady but unkind. Harsh thrusts led him pounding into you as the bed squeaked at mercy. Care and compassion were damned as you were taken to the crest of that second high and he was at the precipice of his first. 

"You feel so damn good, I could come inside you all night."

"Yes! Please!"

"Let's see how you handle one...you're already shaking for me baby..."

"I'm close!"

"No you're not." He explained until he began making small circles at your clit. 

"Now you are..." He smirked. This humor fading for pleasure as you felt him lead the charge to a mutual release. Perfect foreplay and timing had you calling out for one another in grunts and groans as he pulled you swiftly against his hips. 

"Tell me. Tell me whose fucking you like this."

"Rafe-!"

"Tell me whose cock owns your pussy whenever I wanna come."

"RAFE!"

"And tell me who you belong to from this moment on!" He cursed behind clenched teeth. 

"Rafe Cameron!" 

"I love how you say my name when you come." He breathed in finality, your orgasm prompting his own, as he pulled you back to his chest. Sweat connecting you as a trophy of such an example. 

"How about I make you say it again?" 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

[sugawhaaa]

Beomgyu x reader

E M O B O Y

Pairings: switch!beomgyu x switch!fem!reader

Warnings:smut...like hard core

Genre:friends to lovers, childhood friends, smut

Themes: blow job, public sex, oral sex, based off the song by Ayesha Erotica

Word count: 2,150

A/N: this actually sucks...I really don't like it. I feel like the descriptions for the spicy time sounded weird no matter how I tried to describe it? Idk let me know if you genuinely like this lol

You leaned against the wall of the bathroom in the mall as your friends gossiped. There wasn't anything too interesting going around lately but according to your friends there was a lot. You kept an ear out as your friends dolled themselves up in the mirrors. Of course when gossip is being talked about boys come up.

One of your friends, kizzy, brought up her boyfriend and added on some info you really didn't need to know about him. But your other friends seemed to enjoy this topic. It was strange to say the least, you're all from the ages 19-21 so all this sex talk is completely normal yet you always felt out of place. I mean it's not like you haven't thought of anything like that but it's still odd to talk about.

Your thoughts got interrupted as the girls started discussing their next shopping destination.

"Hey, Y/N you haven't picked a place yet! You should choose the next one," Sissy said with a smile, her shining pink lip gloss drawing attention to her lips.

"Um, I'm good. I don't really care where we go haha, we all like the same stores anyway," You said with a shrug and a complimentary smile.

"That's true…" Kizzy said as she thought to herself. "Alright so how about Spencer's? What do ya think!?" She said with a clap of her hands, it echoed throughout the (hopefully) empty bathroom.

"Oh you whore you just want to go to the back section," You commented making everyone laugh as they packed up their makeup including Kizzy.

After getting to Spencer's the girls all roamed around the store in groups of two, you were with Sissy in the LGBTQ+ section. It didn't take long for the girls to get bored and head to the store across from Spencer's, hot topic.

"So what's the deal with you and that boy," kizzy nudged you with her elbow. Of course you didn't forget that Beomgyu works there but you pretended to act dumb.

"Who?" You said widening your eyes.

"The cute boy with the long hair. He works here?" She said as we walked in.

"Oh him yeah. What about him?" You said as you automatically followed Kizzy to the anime area.

"You get closer to him?" She said with excitement on her face.

"I mean I can't really get much closer, we've been friends since first grade," you said with a shrug. Kizzy just nodded her head and sighed. That's when Sissy, Abigail and Minnie came over. They had a ton of things with them already and we'd only been there for five minutes. They were showing Kizzy everything they found when Abigail showed her a pair of strawberry earrings and a cute strawberry dress. Kizzy flipped out and asked her to show where they were. All the girls giggled off to another area, you kept browsing around when you heard an ever so familiar voice.

"Need any help Y/N?" He said with a smirk. You looked up to the source of the sound and viola Beomgyu standing over you. Today he was wearing about a thousand layers of black clothes. A my chemical romance tee, with a baggy fishnet over top of it, he also wore baggy and slightly ripped jeans. As for accessories he wore a black choked with some small spikes, a cross necklace, a skull necklace, a metal star belt, tons of rings, snake bite lip piercings, and a nose piercing. His make up was Suttle today, just some cloudy black/blue eyeshadow.

"Oh Beomgyu you scared me!" You said with a slight jump.

"I'm not that scary looking!" He said, crossing his arms and tipping his chin up. You laughed as you set your hand on his shoulder. You sighed and started stretching. All this walking around was making you tired.

"Getting too old for this already?" Beomgyu chuckled lowly.

"Hey! No. Just these girls move faster than sonic when it comes to clothes and cute boys,"

"So that's why you're all here," he said looking down at you while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Yeah they somehow always find the cutest things here,"

"What can I say, it's in my genes," beomgyu said, flipping his hair. You laughed at him and he grinned as well. His dark bangs hung in his face as he laughed. "Anyways, do you want to sit for a minute," he said gesturing to the back of the shop.

"Yes please," you laughed. He led you to the back of the store and you sat behind the counter with this other girl who was wearing a very scene fashioned outfit. She was very kind and bubbly but you seemed to forget her. You sat awkwardly as Beomgyu and the scene girl chatted. It was quite the awkward angle, but Beomgyus Jean's did fit on him nicely. Your cheeks were red at your dirty thoughts. You patted your face trying to snap yourself out of it. You looked down at the floor and saw Beomgyu wearing some new boots.

"Gyu, are those new?" You said pointing to his shoes. He looked down and nodded.

"Yup I actually got them from here," he laughed. He then bent down to your level, looking you in the eyes. You blushed and tried to keep eye contact, he rested his arms on your bare thighs. You jumped slightly at the cold feeling of his bracelets. The look in his eyes suddenly turned you on so much causing you to reflexively rub your thighs together. Doing so secretly so Beomgyu wouldn't notice anything. "Are you alright? You seem off," he said looking up at you with lustful eyes.

"J-just hungry," you avoided his eyes. He grabbed you by the wrist and said

"Alright, I have some snacks in the back," he said looking up at the scene girl.

"It's fine your shift is almost over," she said with a wave of her hand. He took you to the very back of the shop to a door. He opened it and dragged you into the pitch black room. It was a little closet filled with some random trinkets they might need. He shut the door tightly and turned to you.

"So what do you feel like eating," he said with a smile as he turned the lights on. You looked at him suspiciously.

"Um, maybe a bite of you," you said jokingly. You laughed while Beomgyu gave you a bit of a peculiar stare. He inched closer to you as he rested his hands up aimlessly aiming for you.

"Gyu?" You said as his lustful gaze burned through you. You put your hands on his boney shoulders, the feeling of his warm body on yours. You then found your back against the wall as Beomgyu's hands were placed on the wall. Pinning you to him.

"You aren't actually hungry are you?" He said with a smirk.

"W-what?" You stuttered as your cheeks heated up. There's no way he actually figured you all out! Right?

"A minute ago you said you were hungry, but I think you actually meant to say horny," he said with a small smile. Your eyes widened before looking away from him. He just got closer to you, close enough to kiss you. His addictive scent filled your nose as his hand gently swiped some loose strands of hair behind your ear. "God you're so pretty," he said as his lips came closer to yours. Your eyes started fluttering shut while Beomgyu looked down at you. He stood there waiting for some kind of permission to kiss you.

You grabbed him by the shirt harshly and pulled him in for a rough kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated. Hands and tongues roaming heated skin. Moans and hums filled the small closet. It wasn't long before your curious hands found their way down to the zipper of Beomgyu's black jeans. You used your middle finger to rub up and down the zipper line. Beomgyus hands went up to your hair and played with it. You broke the ongoing kiss to breathe. Without any thoughts inside your head besides wanting to hear Beomgyu moan your name you went down on your knees. His hands still held onto your hair as you started undoing his jeans. Beomgyu panted above you as his hair hung in his face.

"Y/N what are you doing?" He said with a quivering voice. You pulled down his pants to see his hardened member before you.

"Getting a snack," you replied before wrapping your lips around him. He gasped before throwing his head back and covering his mouth. You slowly moved your mouth up and down his length before letting go for a quick breath. As you moved back, strings of his arousal connected with your saliva. Beomgyu looked down at the beautiful sight below him and he basically started petting you while praising you. You slipped your lips back around him and started going at a quicker pace using your spit as lube. Beomgyu bit his lip as he muffled his whines and moans.

"So good, so good," he kept whispering as you started using your hands for extra support. His moans started getting louder and more frequent as he bucked his hips into your mouth. Gyu then started speaking nonsense. A mix of "I'm so close" and "I'm gonna cum," and not surprisingly he was right. Your mouth filled with salty yet sweet and warm liquid. You choked slightly, making you cough, letting some of his cum drip from your lips. Beomgyu then fell to the floor in front of you. Shock was very present on his face along with the black strands of hair. He panted as some drool fell from the corner of his mouth.

Meanwhile you swallowed everything and started crawling over to him. You kissed him passionately as you fell to the floor. As he entertained your mouth his hands went to your ass abruptly moving his hands around. His hands traveled up to your waist before tugging and the hem of your skirt. He swiftly pulled them off as you took a breather.

"Now that I'm thinking about it," he started as he sat up straight, allowing your bare legs to rest on the floor. "I'm getting hungry myself," he said, pouncing on you, landing on the floor. He placed some hickies all down your jawline and neck. He pulled off your shirt before tracing more kisses, bites and hickies all along your body down to your tummy. He locked in between your thighs and over your still clothed pussy. You moaned and whined throughout the whole process.

"Beomgyu please, stop teasing," you whined as your hands found their way to his hair.

"Alright, you've been a very good girl," Beomgyu said, pulling down your undies. He quickly used his whole tongue across your whole entrance making you moan and squirm. He wasn't messing around when it came to giving oral, apparently. He ate you out like you were his last dessert to ever enjoy. He collected every last bit of your arousal. Beomgyu's long fingers then found their way inside you making you moan before covering your mouth. Gyu quietly hushed you before continuing to venture inside you. His fingers quickly moving around inside you to find that specific spot that'd make you scream his name. He decided to go as deep as possible into you and he found one spot that made you jolt up to him. You mumbled out "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God," a bunch as he kept hitting that same spot over and over.

You then felt your walls tighten around his slim fingers and your legs quivered. You warned Beomgyu about your high before his fingers were coated in your juices and his ears filled with loud moans. After you released everything his fingers went to his mouth, cleaning up all the mess you made on them.

"You taste so good," he moaned as he bent back down to your clit and started licking it. That's when the door burst opened.

"Alright Beomgyu get out your shifts over," the scene girl stood there not even phased by the situation at all.

"Close the door! My girlfriend doesn't want the whole world seeing her naked!" Beomgyu yelled and the girl closed the door.

"Fair. But Beomgyu if you don't get out I'll pull you out by your choker," she said outside the door before walking away to help some customers.

"Girlfriend?" You asked as you put on your clothes with Beomgyu.

"Oh um yeah," he said awkwardly as he slipped his jeans back on. "I thought since you just gave me a blowjob you'd want to be my boyfriend…" he said awkwardly as his cheeks filled with blush.

"Haha of course, babe," you said with a smile.