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novaursa · 5 months ago

Note

can i request something with aemond?

him going to harrenhal and having visions of his niece who he’s like in love with and he’s just going crazy

He Never Wanted to Leave

- Summary: Aemond encounters your specter in Harrenhal, and you start to torment him days and nights alike - and Aemond never wanted to leave.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are now closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

Aemond Targaryen's chambers are shuddering with the chill of Harrenhal. The ancient fortress is filled with the weight of its cursed history, the very stones whispering tales of blood and betrayal. But tonight, it feels as though those whispers have become voices, murmuring secrets only meant for Aemond.

He sits on the edge of his bed, hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are white. His usually composed face is marred by the strain of sleepless nights, his mind haunted by the act he committed. The fire that once burned so brightly within him now flickers with a cold, unrelenting guilt.

In the low light of the chamber, Aemond stares at the floor, his eye unfocused, as if he's trying to drown out the voices in his head. But then, he sees you.

You stand before him, as clear as day. You are not a ghost, and yet, you shouldn't be here. You're miles away, safe in Dragonstone or perhaps King's Landing, alive and breathing. But here you are, in his chambers at Harrenhal, as real to him as the icy air that clings to his skin.

He dares not blink, afraid that you will disappear. You are dressed as he remembers, a vision from his childhood, from a time when your presence brought him a comfort he could never name. The long, silken strands of your hair cascade over your shoulders, and your eyes—those eyes that once held such warmth for him—now burn with something darker.

"You're not real," he whispers, his voice trembling with a fear he hasn't felt in years. But his words are hollow, even to him. Because you feel real. The scent of you—a mix of salt from the sea and the wildflowers that used to grow around Dragonstone—fills his senses, so potent it steals the breath from his lungs.

You tilt your head, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. "Aemond," you say softly, your voice a haunting melody that echoes through the chamber. "Do you truly believe that?"

His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. "What do you want?" His tone is harsher now, defensive, as if he can will you away with the force of his anger.

But you step closer, your bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. He watches, frozen, as you reach out a hand, your fingers grazing his cheek. The touch is like fire, searing through him, and his resolve crumbles. He shuts his eye, inhaling sharply. He can feel you, warm and alive beneath his fingertips.

"Do you remember the last time we were together?" you ask, your voice gentle, almost loving. "Before everything changed?"

Aemond shudders, the memory flooding back to him with a painful clarity. He remembers the way you smiled at him, the way you laughed at his dry jokes, the way you would look at him as if he were the most important person in the world. It was a time when you were still untouched by the weight of your family's feuds, when he could still believe that there was something pure in his life.

But that was before. Before the bloodshed. Before the war. Before Luke.

"Stop," he whispers, but the word is weak, a plea rather than a command.

Your hand trails down to his chest, resting over his heart. "He was your kin, Aemond. My blood. Do you think I could ever forgive you for what you did?"

His eye snaps open, and he jerks back as if struck, his face contorting with pain. "It was an accident," he says, but the words are hollow, even to him. The truth is a heavy weight in his chest, pressing down on him until he feels like he might break under the pressure. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I—"

"You killed him," you interrupt, your voice sharp now, each word a dagger to his heart. "You hunted him down, Aemond. You wanted to hurt him, and you did."

The room seems to close in around him, the air thick with the stench of his sin. "I didn't want him to die," he says, desperation seeping into his tone. "I swear to you, I didn't."

Tears prick at his eye, but he blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "Please, forgive me."

But you don't move, your expression unchanged, as cold and unforgiving as the stone walls of Harrenhal. "You took everything from me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "And you think you deserve forgiveness?"

Aemond shakes his head, his whole body trembling now. He drops to his knees before you, the proud prince brought low by his guilt and shame. "I'm sorry," he breathes, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer. "I'm so sorry."

For a long moment, there is only silence. The specter of you looms over him, a reminder of everything he has lost, everything he has destroyed. He feels the warmth of your hand on his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you once did when he was just a boy, lost in the world and seeking solace in your presence.

But this time, there is no comfort to be found.

"You cannot undo what you have done, Aemond," you say, your voice soft but unyielding. "The blood you have spilled will stain your soul forever. You will carry it with you until your dying breath."

He crumples further, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor, his tears falling freely now. He feels your touch retreat, the warmth of you slipping away, and he wants to scream, to reach out and hold on to you, to keep you with him even if it is only a cruel trick of his mind.

But when he looks up, you are gone. The room is empty, the chill more biting than before, and he is alone with his guilt, his regret, and the weight of a sin that no amount of tears can wash away.

Aemond stays on the floor, broken and weeping, the sound of your voice still echoing in his ears, a reminder of what he can never have: your forgiveness.

Another day passes in the desolate halls of Harrenhal, but Aemond Targaryen finds no solace, no escape from the torment that gnaws at his very soul. The oppressive air weighs heavy, and the once proud prince can feel the darkness creeping ever closer, as if the very walls of this cursed place are conspiring against him.

He hasn’t slept since the last vision of you, your voice still haunting him, your words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. He tries to shake off the memory, to bury it beneath layers of anger and denial, but it clings to him like a persistent shadow.

As the evening falls, the flickering light of the candles casts eerie shapes across the walls, and Aemond finds himself seated in the same chair where he last saw you, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and longing. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, but its warmth does little to chase away the chill that has settled deep in his bones.

He closes his eye, willing himself to forget, to block out the memories that threaten to overwhelm him. But as soon as he does, the air around him shifts, the familiar scent of salt and wildflowers filling his senses once more. His eye snaps open, his heart lurching in his chest as he sees you again, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

"You again," he whispers, the words trembling on his lips. He doesn't move, doesn't dare to breathe too deeply, as if the slightest motion might cause you to vanish like a mirage.

But this time, you don’t remain distant. Slowly, with a grace that is both mesmerizing and terrifying, you rise from the bed and walk towards him. He watches, transfixed, as you approach, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of how much he still wants you, even now.

You stand before him, your expression unreadable, and then, without a word, you lower yourself onto his lap. The weight of you feels real, solid, and the warmth of your body against his is a cruel reminder of what he can never have. Aemond’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he closes his eye, trying to convince himself that this is all just another hallucination, another trick of the mind.

But then you speak, and the sound of your voice sends a shiver down his spine.

“Do you remember,” you say softly, “the day you hurt me?”

Aemond’s eye flickers open, and he meets your gaze, his face pale, as if the blood has drained from his veins. “I never meant to hurt you,” he replies, his voice hoarse with emotion. But even as he speaks, the memory comes rushing back, vivid and sharp, like a wound that has never fully healed.

You lean closer, your lips hovering near his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “You did, Aemond. You hurt me, and you knew it.”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I was angry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—”

“You were jealous,” you interrupt, your tone unyielding, as if you are determined to make him face the truth he has been running from for so long. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me being with someone else, even though you had no right to me.”

The memory is clear now, as if it is happening all over again. He sees you standing before him, tears in your eyes, your face etched with pain as he spat cruel words at you, words meant to wound, to drive you away. He had been so consumed by his own insecurities, his own fears, that he hadn’t cared about the damage he was doing.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, his voice breaking as he looks into your eyes, seeing the hurt reflected there. “I was a fool.”

“You were,” you agree, your tone cold. “But that didn’t stop you from hurting me. You wanted me to feel the same pain you did, to make me suffer for your own jealousy.”

He feels your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic, and the sensation is so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says again, his voice trembling. “I love you.”

Your laugh is soft, almost bitter, as you pull back slightly to look him in the eye. “If that’s what you call love, then I pity anyone who falls under your spell, Aemond Targaryen.”

He winces at your words, the truth of them cutting deeper than he ever thought possible. “I was wrong,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong about everything. But please… please, believe me when I say that I never wanted to cause you pain.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes his heart ache. “And yet, you did. Over and over again.”

He can’t deny it, can’t escape the truth that you are forcing him to confront. His hands, trembling now, reach up to cup your face, the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers making his heart twist in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words spilling from his lips in a desperate plea. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes for a moment, as if savoring the sound of his apology, but when you open them again, there is no forgiveness there, only a sadness that cuts him to the core. “Sorry again? Sorry won’t change what you did, Aemond,” you say softly. “Sorry won’t take away the pain, or undo the past.”

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as he holds you close, as if by holding you he can somehow make up for all the wrongs he has done. But even as he clings to you, he knows it’s futile, knows that this moment is nothing more than a cruel illusion, a reminder of what he has lost forever.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “But please… tell me you don’t hate me.”

For a moment, you don’t respond, your gaze locked on his, as if you are searching for something within him. Then, you lean forward, pressing a soft, almost tender kiss to his forehead. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a shiver through him, his heart breaking all over again.

“I don’t hate you, Aemond,” you whisper against his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”

He closes his eye, his body trembling as he feels you begin to fade, the warmth of you slipping away like sand through his fingers. He tries to hold on, tries to keep you with him, but it’s no use. When he opens his eye again, you are gone, the room once more empty and cold, and he is left alone with the crushing weight of his guilt and the memory of your touch lingering on his skin.

Aemond slumps back in the chair, his body shaking with silent sobs, as the walls of Harrenhal seem to close in around him, the cursed fortress now his prison, his tormentor, and his confessor.

The morning sun is a pale, distant orb in the sky as Aemond Targaryen stands at the edge of the pond just outside Harrenhal. The air is cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of the nearby ruins. The water is still, a dark, glassy surface that reflects the twisted branches of the trees and the crumbling stones of the cursed fortress.

Aemond's eye scans the water, but his thoughts are far away, lost in a labyrinth of regret and guilt. The memories of the past few nights—of you—haunt him more than any ghost ever could. He had hoped, foolishly, that the daylight might offer some reprieve from the torment, that the sun's warmth might banish the cold grip of your specter. But here, at this pond, under the cold light of day, he finds no peace.

As he gazes into the murky depths, he sees not just his reflection but the shadows of the sins that weigh heavily on his soul. The stillness of the water is unsettling, almost as if it is waiting for something—someone. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air feels thick, each breath more labored than the last.

And then, as if summoned by his darkest thoughts, you appear.

You emerge from the trees, your steps light and soundless as you approach him. He doesn’t startle this time; he’s almost come to expect your presence, even in the waking hours. But the sight of you in the daylight is no less jarring. The sun catches in your hair, creating a halo effect that makes you look ethereal, otherworldly. Yet there is no warmth in your gaze, only that same sadness, that same coldness that chills him to his core.

You stop beside him, close enough that he can feel the ghost of your warmth, and you stare out at the pond with him, your expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches out, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, you break the silence, your voice soft and lilting, but with an edge that makes his skin prickle. “Do you ever think about drowning yourself, Aemond?”

The question hangs in the air between you, shocking in its directness, in its cruelty. Aemond turns his head to look at you, his eye wide with a mix of horror and sorrow. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his throat. How could he answer that? How could he admit that the thought has indeed crossed his mind, that the weight of his guilt is sometimes too much to bear?

But you don’t wait for his answer. You continue, your gaze still fixed on the water. “I do,” you say, your tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “Sometimes, I think about slipping into the water, letting it take me. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to stop fighting, to stop struggling, and let the darkness swallow you whole.”

Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a death knell. He can hardly breathe as he listens to you speak, the words wrapping around him like a noose, tightening with every syllable.“You could end it all,” you murmur, your voice almost seductive now, tempting. “No more pain, no more guilt. Just peace. Just silence.”

He clenches his fists, the nails digging into his palms, the pain grounding him, keeping him tethered to the reality that is slowly slipping away from him. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that.”

You finally turn to look at him, and there is something in your eyes that makes his blood run cold—a sadness so deep it feels like an abyss, one that he knows he could fall into and never find his way out. “Why not?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “What’s left for you, Aemond? What’s left after everything you’ve done?”

He shakes his head, his mind racing, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. But every thought, every memory is tainted, corrupted by the weight of his sins. “I… I don’t know,” he admits, the words slipping from him like a confession. “But I can’t… I can’t just give up.”

You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to brush against his arm, and though the touch is as fleeting as a breeze, it feels so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “You’re already lost,” you whisper, your voice like a dagger to his heart. “You’ve been drowning ever since you let that darkness into your soul.”

He swallows hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Why do you keep coming to me?” he asks, his voice trembling. “Why won’t you let me be?”

You tilt your head, considering his question, and then you smile, a sad, weary smile that makes his heart break all over again. “Because you can’t let me go,” you say simply. “Because you’re still holding onto the past, to the guilt, to the pain. And as long as you do, I’ll be here, reminding you of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lost.”

He looks away, back at the pond, at the dark, still water that seems to beckon to him, promising release, promising oblivion. The thought of it is tempting, so tempting, but he knows that even if he took that step, even if he let the water claim him, your specter would still follow him, even into death.

“I won’t do it,” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. “I won’t give in.”

You sigh softly, almost as if you’re disappointed, but you don’t push him further. Instead, you lean in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I’ll be waiting, Aemond. I’ll always be waiting.”

And then, just like that, you’re gone.Aemond stands there, staring at the pond, the silence pressing in around him, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He knows, with a dreadful certainty, that this is far from over. You will haunt him, day and night, as long as he remains trapped in this nightmare of his own making.

But for now, he forces himself to turn away from the water, to take a step back, away from the edge, even as your voice lingers in his mind, a constant reminder of the darkness that dwells within him.

The walls of Harrenhal seem to pulse with a life of their own, as if the ancient stones are attuned to Aemond’s every thought, his every desire. The air is thick, charged with something electric, something dark. And within the oppressive atmosphere of his chambers, Aemond finds himself lost once more—lost in the presence of you.

You appear to him as you always do, suddenly and without warning, as though stepping out of the very shadows that cling to the corners of the room. But this time, there is no coldness in your gaze, no sadness weighing down your features. Instead, you look at him with the same fire, the same passion that once ignited the depths of his soul. And it’s enough to make him forget everything—his guilt, his pain, his regrets. All that exists in this moment is you.

Before he can speak, before he can even draw breath, you are upon him, your lips crashing against his with a desperate hunger. It’s a kiss filled with years of longing, years of unspoken words and suppressed desires. Aemond doesn’t hesitate—he responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as if to anchor himself to you, to this moment.

Your bodies collide, heat and need overwhelming any semblance of reason. Aemond pulls you close, your bodies pressed together as if you are both afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment might shatter and leave him alone in the cold once more. He guides you back toward the bed, the world outside these chambers forgotten, discarded like an unwanted memory.

You fall together onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and desire. His hands roam your body with a familiarity born of memory, of dreams that have haunted him for so long. And yet, each touch feels new, electrifying. You arch into him, your breathless gasps filling the room, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from losing control.

As your clothes are discarded, piece by piece, Aemond’s mind races, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotion. He’s aware, on some distant level, that this can’t be real—that you are not truly here, that this is yet another trick of Harrenhal, another way for this cursed place to torment him. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if this is real or not. All that matters is that, in this moment, he has you.

When he finally sinks into you, the world around him blurs, and all that exists is the two of you, lost in a rhythm as old as time. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, over and over, as if by saying it he can make this moment last forever. His movements are frantic, desperate, driven by a need that has been buried for far too long. And you meet him, move with him, as if you’ve never been apart, as if you are still the only thing in his world that makes sense.

“I love you,” he breathes against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I’ve always loved you.”

You moan in response, your nails digging into his back, and the sound drives him closer to the edge, closer to the precipice of oblivion. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, the scent that has haunted his dreams, his waking moments. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and it makes him feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt since Rhaenyra stole you away.

“I never stopped,” he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. “Not for a single day. Not even when you were taken from me.”

Your response is a breathless gasp, a tangle of words and sounds that only spur him on. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s trying to pour all of his love, all of his regret, into this one moment. And when he finally tips over the edge, it’s with your name on his lips, a whispered prayer, a final plea for forgiveness that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

Afterward, he collapses beside you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared breathing, the only noise in the otherwise silent chambers. He reaches for you, pulling you close, needing to feel your warmth, your presence against him. But even as he holds you, as he brushes his lips against your hair, a cold realization begins to settle over him.

This moment, this passion—it’s not real. He knows it deep down, knows that the you he just made love to is nothing more than a phantom, a specter conjured by the darkness of Harrenhal. But even knowing that, he can’t bring himself to let go. He can’t bring himself to leave this place, to return to a world where you are forbidden to him.

His thoughts drift to the letter from his mother, the one he has read a hundred times over, the one that pleads with him to return to King’s Landing. Queen Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne now, and the realm is on the edge of being consumed by fire and blood. His duty calls him, his mother calls him, but all of it feels distant, insignificant compared to the pull of Harrenhal, compared to the pull of you.

Here, in this cursed place, he can have you. Even if it’s only an illusion, even if it’s only in his mind, he can still have you. He can still feel your touch, hear your voice, lose himself in your embrace. And isn’t that better than the alternative? Isn’t that better than a life without you?

“I can never leave,” he whispers to the empty room, though in his mind, he’s speaking to you. “Not now. Not ever.”

The truth of it settles into his bones, as solid and unyielding as the stones of Harrenhal itself. He is bound to this place now, bound to the specter of you, and he knows that he will never break free. Even if it means forsaking his duty, his family, his very soul, he will remain here, in this place where the lines between reality and illusion blur, where he can hold onto the one thing that still matters to him.

In Harrenhal, he can have you. Forever.

And that, he realizes, is the only thing that matters anymore.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #hotd x female reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader

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urmum-lovesme · 18 days ago

Text

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P9

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Is it too late now to say sorry... upside of this chapter, we get some of the Pogues in it we love our queen Sarah :) Downside of this chapter well... then end (actually maybe the whole thing) :/. Happy birthday to my girl y/n, Rafe on the other hand, well I have no comment, I don't wanna see the guy after this chapter I hate him so much he's so destructive. (this is so season 2 Rafe)

warnings: ANGST!!! alcohol, mentions of deceased brother, mentions of overdosing, smoking, drugs (weed, cocaine), drug abuse, strong language (bitch, slut junkie ect), making out, mommy issues :(, references to past trauma, rafe being an asshole, violence (a slap, shoving someone, grabbing someone, smashing glass).

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

A few weeks had passed since that day at the hut, and the atmosphere between Y/N and Rafe remained heavy with unspoken words. The gap where their banter used to be was almost unbearable, the girl avoided him, not out of anger but because she simply didn’t know what to say. The words she wanted to speak felt trapped in her throat, tangled with emotions she couldn’t quite name. When they were with the group she wore her brightest smiles and laughed a little louder than usual, as though she could drown out the tension with forced cheer. Her efforts worked well enough to maintain the surface-level peace, but beneath her facade the strain weighed on her. Their friends weren’t blind. Kelce and Topper could see it in the way they avoided each other’s eyes; conversations between the two were clipped and strained, only happening when absolutely necessary. It was like watching two people perform a carefully rehearsed play, one with no emotion behind the lines.

Cooper had noticed.

He wasn’t as oblivious, watching Y/N navigate this awkward dance with Rafe made something twist in his chest, he felt pity for the girl, knowing how much she cared about the boy and how close they’d always been. Still, if he were being honest, part of him didn’t mind the shift. The distance between Y/N and Rafe had given him a chance to step in, to be the one she leaned on, even if only a little. He wasn’t proud of how much he enjoyed the- ‘unfortunate’ situation the girl was in but the small moments they shared made up for it, like when she laughed at his jokes or tilted her head closer to hear him speak. Those fleeting interactions sent a thrill through him that he couldn’t ignore. He knew he was toeing a line, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what might happen if things stayed the way they were.

One humid evening, the five of them were lounging by Kelce’s pool. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and pink. The backyard was the perfect hangout spot—spacious, with the cool water offering relief from the heat and a bar stocked with anything they could want. Yet, despite that, the tension between Y/N and Rafe was inescapable, the space by Y/n’s side which was often occupied by the boy was now replaced by Cooper, whose hand rested over the back of the seat.

Anger bubbled in Rafe's chest, but it wasn’t the kind of fury he could direct outward—it twisted inward instead, sharp and self-inflicted. He was the one who’d told her he didn’t want her. The memory of that moment was seared into his mind, the expression on her face when he’d told her, told her the repulsive lie about them being friends, was always present in his mind; when he went to sleep, when he woke in the morning, it never left. He had no one to blame but himself.

“So Princess,”

Topper began, breaking the quiet as he turned his attention to Y/N. The nickname rolled off his tongue with a teasing familiarity, drawing a faint smile from her. He’d been watching her and Rafe long enough to sense the shift, though he kept his observations to himself. Rafe was his best friend, and Y/N was practically family. Of course, he noticed when something was off.

“A special day is coming up…”

He added, his tone playful as he referred to her birthday, just a week away. Y/N met Topper’s gaze, her expression carefully neutral. Kelce and Cooper perked up at his words, their curiosity piqued.

“Oh, yeah,” Kelce chimed in, smirking. “I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“Isn’t it like a national holiday on the island or something..?”

Cooper added in mock seriousness his eyebrows furrowing as though in thought. Y/N rolled her eyes at their antics, hand coming out to shove the boy sitting next to her though her lips twitched into a faint smile. She wasn’t annoyed; their teasing was harmless, even endearing.

“You guys are ridiculous.”

She muttered, leaning back into her chair. Topper chuckled, swirling his drink lazily in his hand.

“So, have you decided what you’re doing?”

Y/N straightened slightly, placing her drink on the small stool beside her. “Well,” she began, “my parents aren’t going to be home for my birthday, going away to Georgia to see family friends or something.” A sly smile played on her lips as she watched their reactions.

“Which means…I have a free house.”

Kelce let out a low whistle, his grin widening. Cooper leaned forward, his smirk practically splitting his face.

“Free house?” Kelce said, pointing his drink at her. “You’re throwing a party, right?”

“Definitely,” Y/N said with a laugh, shaking her head at how predictable they were. “And I’m inviting everyone- Kook, Pogue, I don’t care.” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Gonna be the event of the summer.” Kelce said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.

“Finally giving the people what they want,” Cooper joked, his grin widening. Y/N leaned slightly toward Cooper, a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Oh, did I say you were invited?” she quipped, one brow arching as a smirk tugged at her lips. Cooper feigned a look of hurt at her tease, putting a hand over his heart

"What? You wouldn't invite me to your birthday? I thought we were good friends," he said, emphasising his words, glass lifting to his lips to sip at the drink. She had to suppress a smile at the boys words,

“I don't know I guess I could deal with you for one night”

Cooper smirked, bringing his glass down to rest on his thigh, leaning in closer to her ear as he spoke.

“One night, huh? I think you’ll want more than that,” his voice low so only the girl could hear. She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked up to him, stomach fluttering slightly at his words.

Stop that

She gave him a slow nod, tongue coming out to wet her lips before she spoke, “That's some pretty high stakes you're setting there Miller.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he sitting back slightly, “I don’t mind a challenge”

The conversation around the pool flowed in and out of different topics, with Kelce rambling on about something completely pointless—something about a new car he was eyeing.

It doesn’t matter

Rafe’s mind was elsewhere, his focus nowhere near Kelce’s words, his eyes drifting to the side, finding Y/N and Cooper. They were talking, laughing. Y/N leaned in slightly, her smile bright, her posture relaxed as she engaged with Cooper, who was leaning just a bit closer than normal. His fingers curled into a fist around the edge of his drink, the ice rattling against the glass as his jaw tightened. He fought to maintain his composure, but a feeling gnawed at him, sharp and uncomfortable. It was jealousy, unmistakable and burning, bubbling beneath the cold surface of his expression. He watched as Cooper casually brushed his arm against Y/N’s, and the way she didn’t pull away, her eyes locked onto his, the same glint of teasing in her gaze that Rafe had always known so well. He was drawn out of his haze by the girl's voice, her eyes looking at him, dropping down to the glass in his grip, which he loosened.

“Hm?” he questioned, looking at the girl.

“You're coming as well right?” she questioned the boy's head tilting slightly as she spoke and at her question, his eyes flicked up to meet hers,

"Yeah, I'll be there. Wouldn't miss your birthday."

He sent her a tight lipped smile which she reciprocated.

Awkward

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

The days merged seamlessly together as the big day approached, the whole island was buzzing with excitement, and it seemed like no one could stop talking about the infamous ‘Kook Princess’s Birthday.’ Word had spread quickly, as it always did when it came to events like this- Y/N's parties were always the event of the year, and this one promised to be no different. Every corner of the island was abuzz with gossip- Kooks and Pogues alike, the party appearing to be a middle ground for the feud between them- and even if someone wasn’t invited, they knew someone who was and were sure to be brought along as a plus one.

JJ lay back in the hammock, his hands lazily fiddling with a packet of rolling papers, pulling one out as he spoke

“So, we going or not?”

He called, his voice a mix of impatience and amusement, the hammock swaying gently beneath him. His fingers expertly rolled the paper, his focus briefly shifting to the task at hand. Pope, sitting on a log beside him, looked up from where he was lounging, taking a sip from his drink.

“I mean, Y/N seems pretty chill about it. I don’t see why not.” He paused, glancing around at the others. “But I thought it was invite-only, so—”

“She invited me,”

Sarah called out from where she’d plopped herself down into John B’s lap, her legs tangled with his. He let out a small 'oof,' surprised by the suddenness of her action, but wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her.

“She did?”

Kie and JJ spoke in unison, both turning their heads toward Sarah with wide eyes. Kie shot a glance at JJ, who was now half hanging out of the hammock, raising an eyebrow. He winked at her, clearly pleased with Sarah’s news.

“Yeah, Y/N’s really sweet,” Sarah replied with a shrug, her tone casual but sincere. “I don’t talk to her much, I guess, ‘cause she’s always with Topper and Rafe, but she’s cool.”

The names 'Topper' and 'Rafe' caused Pope to pause, his fingers scratching at his cheek as his brows furrowed in thought. “So... your brother is going to be there?” he asked, glancing over at Sarah.

JJ, who had just been about to take a hit from his joint, let out a low whistle.

"If Rafe is there we all know what's going down."

Kie looked over to the boy eyebrows raised in questioning, Pope put his drink down as he stared at the boy as he adjusted himself in the hammock, his hands moving around to mimic someone holding themselves as he dramatically moaned out,

“Oh, yes, Rafe! Don’t stop—Oh, fuck, yes—oh Rafey!”

The others groaned collectively, rolling their eyes at JJ’s antics, with Pope giving an exasperated sigh.

“C’mon, man, don’t do Y/N like that,” John B said with a stern look, pulling his can away from his lips as Sarah took it from him, taking a sip herself.

“Well, I don’t even know if Rafe is going to be there,” Sarah said, raising her hands defensively as she looked at them.

“What?” Pope asked, sitting up slightly, his interest piqued.

“I don’t know,” Sarah continued. “I just think something’s off between them. He’s been super grumpy lately, and a couple days ago, he smashed a bunch of stuff in the kitchen. My dad was pissed,” she added, the others listening closely now.

“Wow,” Kie said, shaking her head. “And a couple of days ago, Y/N showed up at The Wreck with Cooper Miller.”

“The guy from New York?” John B asked, sitting up a little straighter now, his attention fully caught.

“Yeah,” Kie nodded, her voice dropping to a lower tone, “and they were in a booth together, all giggly and everything. Kinda... flirty too.”

JJ raised an eyebrow at that, flicking the lighter on and off as he passed the joint around. “Damn,” Pope muttered, eyes glancing over at the blonde next to him, who was now blowing smoke into the air, his face unreadable. JJ, completely unbothered, took another hit and then wandered over to the group in the circle, offering the joint to Sarah and John B.

“We gon’ get lit tonight. I know Kooks always bring the good stuff, huh?” JJ grinned as he rested a hand on both John B and Sarah’s shoulders, giving them a little shake for emphasis. Sarah rolled her eyes and shook her head, clearly unimpressed.

“No, they won’t.”

“What?” John B asked, raising his brow as he sat up, adjusting Sarah in his lap.

“She said so,” Sarah said with a shrug, letting out a sigh. “Y/N said no drugs at her place. Well, maybe just weed, but she was pretty serious about it. I even saw her talking to the guy who sells stuff-”

“Kyle?” JJ spoke out hand coming up to push his hair out the way.

“Yeah Kyle, and she said she’d, like, fuck him up or something if he brought anything else.”

“Damn.” JJ raised his eyebrows, genuinely impressed. “Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

Kie stood up, dusting off the back of her shorts, her mind clearly elsewhere. “Do you think it’s because of her brother?” she asked, her voice thoughtful.

“Yeah, probably.” John B shrugged, his eyes distant for a moment. “I don’t blame her.”

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

The backyard, lit by string lights that twinkle like stars above, had transformed into a vibrant scene, with the thumping bass from the speakers. Groups of people were scattered around, some clustered by the bar, whilst others were dancing, their bodies swaying to the rhythmic beats that spilled from the speakers set up, loud laughter sweeping into the silence.

Y/N moved through the crowd with a natural grace, effortlessly weaving between groups of people who were talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. Her smile never wavered as she greeted everyone who called out to her, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she offered a quick hug here, the sound of "Happy birthday!" followed her like a soft chorus as she passed, and each greeting was met with a playful smile and a ‘Thank you!’. As she neared the door, her fingers brushed the doorframe, and she pushed it open with a small exhale, letting the cool air inside.

“Happy Birthday!”

Sarah’s voice rang out, the other pogues standing behind her. “Thank you!” Y/N called out, over the music, her voice ringing with joy, slightly buzzed from the alcohol she’d consumed. She walked over, arms open wide as she embraced the girl tightly, stepping aside to let the others in. John B gave her a playful nudge, he spoke with a smile, his tone teasing but sincere.

“You sure know how to throw a party.”

“I’d hope so. Not called the Kook Princess for nothing.”

She responded to him with a wink. The group followed the girl into the kitchen, weaving through the crowd of people plaguing the house. The girl was speaking to them, Kie nodding as she caught the ‘upstairs is off limits’. Now crowded around the kitchen island pouring their own drinks JJ leaned in towards her, grinning as he rested his hand on her waist,

“Is this the part where we all toast to your royal highness?” he teased, holding up his drink.

The girl let out a laugh as she shook her head raising her hand dismissively,

“Whatever you wish for, my faithful servant.”

The others laughed at her response but the call of her name pulled Y/n away from the conversation. She took a couple steps over to where the girl holding her hand out, leading her away, turning back to the group she spoke out loudly so they could hear,

“Have fun guys!”

She stumbled slightly as she made her way through Kooks and Pogues, an occasional cheer when she passed arising from people, others raised their drinks in a salute making her smile. Topper and Kelce appear in her vision, the two boys cheering as they spot the girl.

“Here comes the Birthday Girl!” Kelce’s voice rang out, drawing the attention of a few nearby partygoers. Topper raised his cup in the air. "Looking good, Princess!" he called, as she approached.

“Give us a spin.”

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the challenge. With a playful roll of her eyes, she planted one foot in front of the other and spun around slowly, her arms outstretched in an exaggerated twirl. The dark red dress hugged her figure, it was shorter than she’d usually go for, she couldn't deny that throughout the night she was pretty sure she’d flashed a few people.

Who cares, it's my birthday

"Better?" she teased, her voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Kelce leaned back with an impressed whistle, his eyes scanning her with feigned admiration. "Killlllling it sexy" he teased, clearly enjoying the show. She shook her head leaning over the bar to grab her own drink, letting the cool liquid run down her throat with a burn.

"Having fun?" Topper asked, genuine curiosity.

"Are you kidding? This is my night," she tilted her head slightly and shot him a quick smile. However she couldn't stop her eyes from flickering around them searching for something… or rather someone. Topper seemed to notice her eyes flickering around, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You looking for someone?"

Her eyes darted back to the boy in front of her as he spoke, shaking her head raising the glass to her lips again and taking a quick sip before speaking,

Rafe...

“Uh- have you seen Cooper?”

She asked, her words slightly offhand, though there was a flicker of something in her voice. Her eyes swept the crowd once more, her thoughts momentarily drifting. Kelce smirked, clearly sensing the subtle shift in her behavior.

"Cooper, huh?" he teased, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. "You know, for someone who's 'just having fun,' you sure seem eager to find him." Y/N bit back a smile, her cheeks flushing slightly, though she quickly regained her composure.

"I’m not eager."

She said, the words coming out more defensively than intended. She rolled her eyes and shoved the boy causing him to stumble slightly, Topper laughing at them, “He went to meet one of the guys by the front doors- something like that.”

“M’kay… What about Rafe?”

Topper tilted his head, crossing his arms curiously. “Rafe?”

“Yeah. Just wondering if he’s here.”

She replied quickly, shrugging as she let out a quiet laugh, though it didn’t sound as carefree as she intended. Topper raised an eyebrow at her curiosity, aware that the two were still on thin ice,

“I haven’t seen him since earlier. You know how he gets, he’s... not in the best of moods."

Y/N swallowed, her thoughts briefly clouding with the image of Rafe brooding in some corner, she pushed it away, forcing an unbothered tone as she took another sip of her drink.

"I’m sure he’s fine."

Topper studied her for a moment, his smirk fading just slightly as he caught the way her expression shifted- the subtle drop in her shoulders, the brief tightness in her jaw. He could tell there was more to her question than she was letting on, and it wasn’t just curiosity about Rafe's whereabouts. But he didn’t press, he knew when to back off, he cleared his throat as he saw the girl's eyes dart around the back-yard,

"Whatever’s going on between you two," he said, a little more serious now, "you know it’s not worth letting it ruin a good night. The party’s for you, not him."

Y/N glanced at him, her lips quirking in an attempt at a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I know," she muttered, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. She shifted uncomfortably, the heat of the moment making her uneasy as she realized she hadn’t been able to escape her thoughts of Rafe- even in the middle of her birthday celebration.

She had spent weeks convincing herself that she didn’t care if Rafe showed up, that it didn’t matter what he did anymore. But standing there in the midst of the party, surrounded by familiar faces and laughter, she couldn’t deny the sting of his absence. Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass in her hand as her gaze swept over the crowd for what felt like the hundredth time. He wasn’t here. Not yet, anyway, or maybe he was but he was avoiding her. She told herself it didn’t matter, tried to focus on the people who were here for her, but her mind kept circling back to him. He was her best friend. At least, he had been. That thought made her chest tighten.

Had been

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

The music pulsed through the air, its rhythmic bassline vibrating the floor beneath her feet. The lively chatter and bursts of laughter from the crowd mingled with the upbeat energy of the party. Every corner of the house was buzzing with movement- someone laughing loudly, a group raising their glasses in a spirited toast, or pairs of people drunkenly making out in dimly lit corners. The lively chaos was electric, wrapping around Y/N as she moved through the thrumming atmosphere. The girl found herself by the makeshift bar, a group of familiar and not-so-familiar faces gathering around her. Someone had shouted, "Shots for the birthday girl!" and it spiraled from there. A tray of tiny glasses filled to the brim with amber liquid appeared, each one gleaming under the dim lights overhead.

“Birthday shot!”

Someone yelled, and the crowd around her joined in, chanting the words in a playful, sing-song tone.

Y/N held her shot glass high, a smile tugging at her lips as she glanced around at the people circling her.

“To being young, rich and sexy!”

The group erupted into laughter and clinked their glasses against hers before raising them to their lips. Y/n tipped her head back, the liquid burning a fiery trail down her throat, she slammed the empty glass on the counter with a wince, her friends erupting into cheers. Another round was quickly poured, someone shouting, “One more for the birthday girl!” Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but there was no real fight in her as another shot glass was pressed into her hand.

“Alright, fine, but this is the last one,” she said, raising the glass high with a wide smile, cheeks flushed.

“Sure it is!” someone teased, drawing more laughter from the group. She tilted her head back once more and took the shot, slamming the glass down. The crowd around her whooped in approval, some pounding the counter, the group around her remained lively, their laughter and chatter filling the kitchen as they lingered by the counter, still talking to Y/N about random topics that arose. She nodded along, her smile unwavering as she responded to their playful jabs and stories, but her attention started to waver. Her gaze drifted subtly past the circle of friends, skimming over the crowd that filled the house, that's where she spotted him.

Rafe

He was not far from the kitchen entrance, leaning against the wall with that casual ease that drew her eye immediately. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his head was tilted slightly as he talked to someone.

Sofia?

Y/N’s stomach dipped slightly. The girl standing with Rafe was undeniably beautiful, her short brown hair framing her face in a way that caught her beauty effortlessly. The girl laughed at something Rafe said, her hand brushing his arm briefly, to which he returned a smile to her his chest raising in a soft laugh. The sight sent a jolt through Y/N that she couldn’t quite place- or maybe she could, but didn’t want to. Her smile faltered for a split second before she forced it back into place, the party around her seeming to blur for a moment as her focus zeroed in on the two of them. She couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol coursing through her veins or the way Sofia’s hand casually brushed Rafe’s arm, but a wave of nausea crept up her throat. Her grip on the edge of the counter tightened, fingers curling against the smooth surface as though grounding herself. The laughter and chatter around her blurred into a dull hum, the vibrant lights of the kitchen suddenly feeling too bright, too close. The warmth of the room made her feel like the air was pressing down on her. She blinked slowly, trying to steady herself, but her head was already spinning, the effects of the shots catching up with her faster than she expected. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to exhale, but her stomach still churned uncomfortably. The nausea wasn’t just from the alcohol, she knew that. It was the sight of him- of Rafe- leaning in close to someone else. Someone who wasn’t her.

Get a grip

The sudden suffocating feeling drove her to action. Her body moved before her mind could fully catch up, her feet carrying her out of the kitchen and through the crowd of partygoers. She mumbled quick apologies when she bumped into someone, eyes darting toward the glass doors that led to the garden. The cool night air hit her immediately, sharp and refreshing against her heated skin. She inhaled deeply, her hands pressing against the railing of the patio as she stared up at the stars, trying to will away the lump in her throat and the bitter taste of jealousy lingering in her mouth. Before she could fully settle into the moment of solitude, someone called her name.

She turned around, and there he was.

Rafe stood just a few feet away, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable. The way the light from the house cast a glow over his face made him look almost softer—almost.

“Happy birthday.”

He said, his voice low but clear, carrying easily through the quiet of the night. She stared at him for a moment, her face betraying no emotion.

“Thanks,” she replied flatly, turning back toward the garden.

“Wait-”

He said, and before she could take another step, his hand reached out, gently brushing against hers before catching it lightly.

“Can we talk, please?”

She turned back to him slowly, her gaze icy as she stared up at him.

“Go talk to Sofia.”

What?

She shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. Rafe blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the venom in her words. He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, his jaw tightening slightly.

Why the fuck did you say that?!

“Listen,” he started, his voice softer now, more deliberate. “I don’t know what you—”

“Rafe,” she cut him off, her tone clipped as she tugged her hand out of his.

“I don’t care who you fuck.”

She inhaled deeply, her gaze briefly flickering to the door behind him before settling back on his face.

“I just need some air.”

And with that, she turned away, stepping off the patio and disappearing into the shadows of the garden. Rafe stayed rooted in place, his hand falling limply to his side where hers had been just seconds ago. He watched her retreating figure, her shoulders tense, her head held high.

Fuck

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He hadn’t meant for things to be like this—not tonight, not on her birthday. He didn’t even know how to fix it, or if she’d even let him try.

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

Y/N was pulled out of her spiraling thoughts by the warm, steady weight of a pair of hands wrapping gently around her waist. Her body stiffened for a moment, but then she turned her head slightly to see Cooper smiling down at her, his face warmed under the kitchen lights.

“How’s the birthday girl enjoying herself?”

He asked, his voice warm and teasing, a playful lilt in his tone. Y/N forced a small smile, her grip on the counter loosening slightly. “I’m… good,” she said, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Actually, I was just thinking- let’s take another shot.”

Cooper’s brows lifted, and he gave a soft chuckle, his hands sliding away as he stepped to her side.

“Another one, huh? You sure about that? Might be a good time to slow down...”

She shook her head, brushing off his concern. “Nope.” she said, her voice firmer now, as though willing herself to regain control of the moment. He hesitated, eyeing her with a mix of amusement and slight concern. “Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, grabbing two shot glasses and the nearest bottle.

“Your call.”

Y/N held out her glass, linking her arm through his with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Let’s take one together,”

She insisted, her smile a little brighter now. Cooper raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips as he grabbed another shot glass and the nearest bottle, pouring the shots for them, the liquid slightly spilling over the top.

“To the birthday girl who doesn’t know when to quit,”

Cooper teased back, his green eyes dancing over her as they clinked their glasses together awkwardly with their arms still entwined. Together, they tipped their heads back, the liquid burning down their throats as laughter bubbled up between them. Y/N set her glass down quickly, wiping her lips, but her eyes flickered to Cooper as he placed his own glass on the counter. Cooper ruffled his tousled hair back into place, as his gaze found hers, his voice softened as he noticed the girl's slightly blissed out expression asked,

“You good, Princess?”

Y/N nodded, the hint of a smile still curling at her lips, she bit her bottom lip gently, an almost unreadable look crossing her face for a split second. Without a word, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers together, pulling him toward the thrumming crowd where the music seemed to pulse. The bright lights above illuminated the sea of moving bodies, but Y/N was fixated on Cooper, her touch on his hand firm but playful. The music was loud, a steady beat that made her pulse quicken as she felt the warmth of the boy’s body close to hers. She could already feel the weight of the alcohol in her system, making her movements looser, her body swaying slightly. He allowed her to draw him in, his hands resting lightly on her waist as she guided him into the crowd of sweaty bodies moving against each other, his eyes never leaving hers. Her arms wrapped around his neck with an ease and he couldn’t help but tease,

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance,”

He murmured, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Y/N lifted an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. She leaned in slightly, her breath warm against his ear as she replied,

“I guess you’ll have to teach me, then.”

Cooper chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he adjusted his grip around her waist, pulling her even closer as they moved together. She grinded up against the boy as the base thumped heavily in her ears. Cooper leaned in closer to her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he spoke, his hands trailing down her body to her hips, pulling her closer.

"You're a great dancer, princess."

Cooper paused for a moment, his expression softening slightly, his green eyes locking with hers in a way that made her pulse quicken even more. For a brief second, the music and the noise around them seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them standing in the dim light, the boy’s mind racing as he drank in the sight of her, little red dress clinging to her body a slight sheen covering her chest, causing her to shimmer under the lights.

Cooper was caught off guard by how close they were, how the girl's hands ran up and down his chest, lingered on his neck, playfully grazed over his arms, the heat between them had shifted from playful flirtation to something deeper, more charged. He noticed the way her breath hitched slightly as their bodies brushed, the way she leaned into him just that little bit more. His hand moved almost instinctively, sliding from her waist up to her back, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, the slight curve of her spine making him pause again,

"God, you're so…"

Cooper started, his voice a little rougher than usual as he tried to collect himself, but the words came out lower, heavier than he had meant. He was fully aware of the shift, the tension hanging thick between them. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. Y/N didn’t break eye contact, instead, her fingers trailed lightly over his chest, sneaking under the top of his open shirt, causing him to suck in a breath as the coolness of her touch. She tilted her head slightly, that playful haze still present in her eyes.

"So…?"

She murmured, her voice dipping low, sending a shiver down his spine. Her lips hovered near his ear, her breath warm against his skin as she continued,

“You gonna take me back to my room now or what?"

She asked, her voice light, yet daring, her words hanging in the air the implication clear. She tilted her head, eyes never leaving his. The challenge in her voice had him leaning even closer to her, his grip on her tightening.

"Is that what you want, hmm?"

He asked, his breath warm against her skin, Y/N's eyes flickered over his face taking in his slightly flushed cheeks, a smirk pulling at her lips as she looked up at him, her fingers now lightly tracing his jaw.

"Maybe,"

She whispered back, but her body already told everything without needing to say a word. Cooper’s lips parted for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully,

"You’re not making this easy-"

“-I thought you liked a challenge?”

A grin broke out on his face as he shook his head slightly at the girl, his grip on her waist tightening ever so slightly, pulling her even closer.

“I do.”

Y/N's breath hitched in response, her fingers gripping at his shirt, the material scrunching under her touch as she pulled him closer to her, the boy’s lips now merely inches away from her.

"Then stop talking and show me,"

She teased, her voice breathless but full of desire, her lips just barely brushing against his as she leaned in. Cooper didn’t need any more encouragement. He moved forward, closing the gap between them, his hand at the back of her neck pulling her in for a kiss that was rough… hungry. Y/N’s arms wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The boy’s hands roamed, slipping down her back, and the shift of their bodies made her pulse spike again, her breath quickening in rhythm with his. Their lips moved against each other messily, the pressure building, it was clear neither of them wanted to stop.

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

The party felt suffocating now, the music too loud, the air too warm, but Rafe didn’t move from his spot against the wall. His bottle of beer hung limply from his hand, he leaned against the wall, one shoulder pressed into the cool surface, as his sharp eyes scanned the crowd. He wasn’t really looking for anyone- or so he told himself.

Then he saw her.

Y/N.

Rafe’s grip on the bottle trembled as he watched her arms loop around Cooper’s neck, pulling him closer. His jaw clenched as he watched her lean into him, her face close to Cooper’s, her lips curling into a smile that made Rafe’s chest tighten. His stomach churned as Cooper leaned closer, his hand brushing Y/N’s waist before pulling her in, and then they kis-

It stung at first.

Like a punch to the gut.

But that initial wave of hurt was quickly swallowed by something else, something darker. Anger. His teeth ground together as his gaze darkened, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. He knew it wasn’t his place to feel this way—he’d pulled back, made it clear weeks ago that whatever tension crackled between them wasn’t something he’d act on. But watching her with Cooper? Seeing the way her lips moved against his, her fingers tangling in his hair, the soft arch of her back as she pressed closer?

It made his blood boil.

Because no matter how much he tried to convince himself he didn’t care, that he had no right to feel this way, the sight of her with someone else cut deeper than he’d expected.

And anger was easier to hold onto than hurt.

What the fuck is she doing?

Rafe stormed into the kitchen, his mind still racing with the anger that consumed him. He had to do something—anything—to numb the burn in his chest, the frustration he couldn't shake. Sarah, Kiara and John B were standing near the counter, focused on making their drinks, their conversation faltering when they noticed Rafe's entrance. He didn’t even spare them a glance. His eyes were locked on the bottle of vodka sitting in front of Sarah, and before she could protest, he grabbed it out of her hand.

“Hey, man, she was using that.”

John B said, his voice sounding a little more forceful than he intended. He stepped forward, trying to stop Rafe from taking the bottle. But Rafe didn’t care. He twisted the cap off and tipped the bottle back, taking a large swing without hesitation. The burn of the alcohol made his throat tighten, but it didn’t feel like enough.

It wasn't strong enough.

“Rafe, seriously, stop,” Sarah said as she tried to grab the bottle from his hand. Kiara pulled the girl away before she got hurt speaking out to the boy,

“You’re acting like a psycho.”

Rafe didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he took another long swing. John B watched, glancing between Sarah and Rafe. “Maybe we should get y/n?” He suggested quietly to Sarah, but before either of them could do anything else, Rafe let out a loud scoff at the boys words.

John B's gaze shifting toward Sarah with an unspoken questioning but Sarah wasn't looking back at him, having noticed something small in Rafe’s pocket. A dime bag, barely visible but enough to make her blood run cold, the plastic sticking out of his pocket slightly. Her gaze dropped, her heart pounding as she saw the faint remnants of white powder inside. Y/N had made it clear there were to be no drugs at the party, and Sarah had believed Rafe would respect that. She bit her lip trying to rationalise it, Rafe would never do that to Y/n she's his best friend right?

She was pulled out of her gaze by the sound of the boy slamming the now empty bottle down into the sink, the glass shattering with a loud crack that echoed through the kitchen. He didn’t look back at Sarah or John B, just kept walking, the anger inside of him driving every step. Sarah hesitated for a moment before taking a few steps after him, her fingers reaching out to grab his wrist.

“Are you okay?”

She asked, concern laced in her voice but Rafe didn’t respond. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he roughly shrugged her off as he spat out his voice slightly slurred from the alcohol,

“Just fuck off.”

Need something stronger

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

As the seconds ticked by, Cooper pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers, their chests rising and falling together, the girl in front of him letting out a shaky breath,

"You sure you want to keep going?"

Without a word, she took his hand in hers, her grip warm and firm as she started to lead him toward the stairs of the house. He mumbled out an occasional ‘sorry’ or ‘ s’cuse me’ as he helped her get through the people in their way. Y/n wobbled slightly, her body unsteady from the alcohol, but her determination never wavered. There was a faint scent of bacardi on her breath mixed with her perfume, it drew the boy closer, his hand slipping around her waist to steady her as they moved.

"Careful"

Cooper murmured, his voice gentle, but there was still that teasing lilt to it. Y/N shot him a glance over her shoulder, the playful, tipsy look in her eyes still there.

"I’m fine"

She giggled, though the slight stumble of her step told a different story. She squeezed his hand, pulling him forward with a grin that sent a pulse of heat through him. As they made their way up the stairs, her heart was racing, eager to get to her room with him, but her momentum was abruptly halted when someone bumped into her. She stumbled slightly but quickly caught herself, Cooper’s hands shooting out to steady her.

"Y/N! Hey!"

Sarah greeted, her tipsy smile spreading. She looked up at Y/N, noticing her slightly frazzled appearance- the smudge of lip gloss and the way Y/N’s hand was still intertwined with Cooper’s, an unreadable expression flickered across her face. She glanced down at their joined hands, taking in the situation with a knowing look before her eyes flicked up to meet Y/N's. Just behind her, John B appeared, his arms casually draped over her shoulders. His gaze shifted between the pair as he spoke up, his voice a little louder from the party’s noise.

"Hey, what's up, guys?"

His tone was friendly, though there was a slight hint of curiosity in his eyes as he noticed the scene. His focus landed briefly on their hands, eyebrows raising as he processed the sight, though he didn’t say anything outright. Y/N, trying to act casual, smiled and greeted them both.

Seriously?

"Hey, Sarah, John B! Everyone’s here... how great! Everything good?"

She asked, trying to keep her tone light as her eyes flickered nervously toward the stairs.

Sarah, clearly tipsy from the drinks, gave a small wave. "Yeah, Everything’s great! This party’s crazy, right?" she said, her voice bubbly. But then, her expression shifted slightly, and she asked, "Actually... have you seen Rafe? I’ve been looking for him, but... no luck."

Y/N felt her stomach tighten at the mention of Rafe.

Not the best time Sarah

She quickly glanced back at Cooper before replying shortly, "no I haven't seen him", trying not to sound too eager to move on from the conversation.

Her eyes flickered back to the stairs behind her, feeling an anxious pull to escape up them with Cooper. John B, still standing casually next to Sarah, glanced over at Y/N and Cooper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he seemed to catch on.

"Well we’ll let you guys be,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips. He seemed to sense what was happening, though he didn’t press it, instead giving a slight nod to Cooper.

“You two... having fun?”

"Yeah, we're just... catching up," Cooper said casually, a nod in the boy's direction, clearly wanting to move things along.

"Right," John B said, his grin widening, clearly amused, but not wanting to make things awkward. “Sarah, let's find Rafe, yeah?" Sarah didn’t seem quite as enthusiastic as she had before, she hesitated, her gaze lingering on Y/N and Cooper,

“Yeah..”

John B gently nudged Sarah away, guiding her down the hallway. As they walked off, Sarah threw one last, uncertain glance over her shoulder at Y/N and Cooper who had started making their way up the stairs.

Y/N let out a small breath, her shoulders dropping in relief, the noise of the party growing more distant behind them. Cooper leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful.

“What was that about?”

His eyes flickered between her face and the path ahead. Y/N let out a shrug, shaking her head slightly as she climbed the stairs.

“I don’t know, c’mon.”

She gestured toward the top of the stairs with a small smile, her fingers tightening around his hand as they both made their way. She wasn’t sure what Sarah’s issue was, but at this moment she couldn’t bring herself to care.

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

“What's wrong Sare-bear?”

JJ called out, his lazy smirk growing as he lounged on the grass. He tossed his red plastic cup into the bush next to them without a care, watching Sarah approach with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression stormy. John B walked a step behind her, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes darting curiously between her and the group. Sarah reached them and stopped abruptly, her words tumbling out.

“We saw Cooper and Y/N together.”

Kiara tilted her head, exchanging a quick glance with Pope, who was lounging on the sun lounger, his drink balanced precariously on his knee. “...And?” Kiara asked, lifting a brow. Pope squinted at Sarah,

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

His voice was calm but edged with curiosity as he straightened up a little, Sarah huffed, her fingers fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist as she frowned.

“I don’t know, it’s just... weird.”

JJ burst out laughing, his hands hitting against his thighs in a drum roll, “Ohhhh, I get what’s going on!” He pointed a finger at her, his grin wide. John B smiled, leaning against the side of the lounger the blond boy was planted on and crossing his arms.

“Gotta say, I think JJ’s onto something here.”

His voice was teasing, though there was a knowing glint in his eyes as he watched Sarah’s expression twist further into frustration.

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

Pope asked, his eyes darting between them, still not catching on. JJ sat up slightly, his grin spreading further as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Our Kook Princess is getting some tonight,”

He said, his voice coming out in a sing-song tune. Kiara rolled her eyes dramatically before leaning over and shoving JJ hard enough to send him rolling onto his back. “Hey!” JJ exclaimed, sprawling on the grass as he rubbed his shoulder with mock offence. John B chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean, he’s not wrong. They did look pretty—”

“Flushed?”

Kiara interjected, her lips curving into a small grin. Sarah’s frown deepened as she uncrossed her arms, her hands now planted firmly on her hips.

“How do you know?”

Kiara shrugged, brushing some stray strands of hair out of her face.

“Saw them in the kitchen earlier. They seemed pretty cozy... if you know what I mean.”

Pope’s eyebrows shot up as realisation dawned. “Ohhhh, damn.” He said, drawing out the sound as he leaned back on the sun-lounger. Sarah turned sharply to Kiara, her frustration bubbling over.

“Kie! Why didn’t you tell me?”

John B reached out, his hand settling gently on Sarah’s arm as he spoke softly. “Why are you so worked up over this, baby?”

Sarah paused, her gaze darting to the group. Kiara was watching her curiously, Pope looked contemplative, and JJ was sprawled on the ground, smirking up at her with an infuriatingly smug expression. She threw her hands up in exasperation. “This is wrong,” she muttered, shaking her head. “C’mon, I need to find Rafe.” She turned to walk off, but John B caught her hand, tugging her gently back toward the group.

“Sarah,” he said with a sigh, his tone soft but firm. Kiara leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she met the blonde girl's gaze.

“Sarah, I know you think the two of them like—”

“They do! Why aren’t you guys listening?”

Sarah interrupted, her voice louder now, laced with frustration. JJ, propping himself up on his elbows, pointed a lazy finger toward her.

“Well, obviously Rafe’s fucked up if Y/N’s canoodling with some other guy.”

He quipped, his grin never faltering. Kiara shot him a sharp look, shaking her head. “Seriously, JJ? What are you, ten?”

Sarah let out a frustrated groan, her head dropping against John B’s chest. Her voice was muffled as she sighed,

“I don’t know...”

Pope rubbed the back of his neck, his voice thoughtful. “Well, where is Rafe anyway? I haven’t seen him since... was it the kitchen you said? He seemed pretty worked up.”

Kiara frowned slightly, leaning back. “Yeah, I don’t remember seeing him either. Maybe he left?”John B looked over at her, raising an eyebrow, “You think he’d leave his best friend’s birthday early?” JJ, still lounging on the grass, chimed in with a snort,

“Well, if he found out she was fucking some other gu—”

“JJ!”

Pope and Kiara scolded in unison, their glares sharp as JJ held up his hands in mock innocence.

“Just saying,” the boy muttered, flopping back onto the ground with a dramatic sigh.

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

Y/N giggled as she stumbled slightly, her hand still clasped tightly in Cooper’s as they shuffled down the dimly lit hallway. His laugh was warm, mixing with hers as he pushed her gently against the wall, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was eager and unrestrained. Her hands slid up his chest before she playfully pushed him back, her breathless voice cutting through the darkness.

“C’mon, it’s further up,”

She murmured, her lips curving into a teasing smile. Cooper groaned, throwing his head back dramatically.

“More stairs?”

She laughed, shaking her head at him, tugging him along with a playful tug on his shirt.

“Just one more flight, I promise.”

They started to ascend again, but Cooper suddenly stopped, halting their progress.

“Can I go to the bathroom real quick?”

Y/N groaned in protest, her hands dropping to his belt loops, using them to tug him closer. Her mischievous grin widened as she pulled him flush against her.

“Seriously?”

“I know, I know!” he chuckled, his hands raised in surrender. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Rolling her eyes, she relented with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Go, go!”

As he turned to walk down the darkened hall, he glanced back at her, sending her a quick kiss through the air. She chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. The hallway was quiet, the faint hum of music from downstairs muffled by the distance, and only the soft sound of their steps echoed. Then suddenly, a loud “oof!” broke the silence, followed by the sharp clatter of something hitting the floor. Y/N burst out laughing as she saw Cooper stumbling over a small table that was tucked into the corner of the hall. His hands shot out to steady himself, and he straightens up sheepishly, rubbing his shin.

“I’m okay!”

He declared with an exaggerated thumbs-up, his cheeks flushed as he grinned at her.

What a nerd

Y/N shook her head, a soft giggle escaping her lips, still smiling as she watched him disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. She sighed softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet hallway. Pushing herself off the wall, she padded over to the small wooden table Cooper had collided with, the picture frame lay askew on the floor, the glass miraculously intact despite the tumble. Bending down, she picked it up, brushing off an invisible speck of dust as she straightened, her fingers grazed the edge of the frame as she held it. The photograph inside caught her attention, halting her movements. It was one she hadn’t seen in a while- her and her brother sitting close together on their family yacht, the sun casting a warm golden glow over their smiling faces. She was younger, her hair tousled by the wind, her brother’s arm casually draped around her shoulders. Her lips curved into a small smile as the memory surfaced.

Y/N went to place the frame back down on the table, but a sudden ray of light caught her eye, reflected off the glass. She paused, her fingers tightening slightly around the frame. The light was faint, but it was there, casting a strange glow into the dim hallway.

That’s weird.

She blinked, upstairs was supposed to be off-limits, and no one else had been here. Why would there be any lights on? Her heart beat a little faster, a sense of unease creeping in, the faint light... where was it coming from?

Her breath caught in her throat.

The light was spilling from a door just slightly ajar, casting a soft glow in the hallway. She stood perfectly still, her grip on the photo frame tightening further as her mind raced. No one had been in that room for years- not her, not her parents. It had been off-limits to everyone.

No one had dared to open the door since...

Her heart seemed to stop for a beat, and she swallowed hard, staring at the crack in the door.

Why would the light be on?

Her finger trembled slightly as she placed the picture frame onto the table. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the door. She exhaled slowly, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Then, almost against her will, she took a cautious step forward.

Another step.

Her body felt like it was moving on its own, but her mind screamed for her to turn back, to leave the hallway and not look. The nausea was rising, thick and heavy, but her feet seemed to carry her forward anyway. She hesitated, stopping a few steps away from it, her chest tight as she looked at the door. It felt like it was staring back at her. Her fingers felt cold as they hovered over the door handle, a mocking reminder of the past. With a trembling hand, she reached for it. The door creaked open slightly, the light from the room spilled out into the hallway.

The girl froze

Her gaze fell on the figure hunched over her brother’s desk, his back to her, he was focused on something, his movements quick and deliberate. The sight of him brought a sudden wave of nausea rushing to her stomach, but it wasn’t until he straightened up that she realized what he was doing.

Her breath hitched.

A line of white powder lay in front of him on her brother’s desk.

Y/N’s legs felt like they might give way beneath her, but she stood frozen, unable to look away as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then turned around. When their eyes met, the air in the room shifted.

Rafe’s body stiffened.

No. No no no no-

His eyes widened slightly, his hand jerking up to his face instinctively, wiping at his nose again; he didn’t speak right away, just stood there.

Y/N felt a tremor run through her, her hands shaking at her sides as her throat closed up. She felt trapped- frozen in the doorway, in shock, and sick to her stomach at the sight of him here.

In this room

In this space that was sacred to her.

“Y/n-”

"-What are you doing?"

Her voice came out ragged, barely a whisper as her eyes darted between his and the desk he stood by, the question hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Rafe's expression faltered, and he took a step toward her, his hands outstretched, frantic.

“It’s not what it looks like, Y/N. Listen, I—”

She couldn't breathe.

Before he could get any closer, she took a shaky step back, her legs unsteady as she stumbled back, barely catching herself.

“No-”

She breathed, shaking her head slowly, the tears threatening to spill over. She couldn’t stop them- couldn’t stop the waves of emotion that slammed into her all at once.

"No, Rafe… what the- what the fuck are you doing in here?”

He kept walking towards her, his expression torn- guilt, panic and confusion.

"Y/N, I didn’t mean to—"

But she didn’t want to hear it.

She didn’t want his words, his excuses, his explanations.

Her stomach churned as she looked at him, feeling like she might collapse under the weight of everything crashing around her. The room, the desk, the powder… her brother’s room. The memories came rushing back, too fast, too much to bear.

How Rafe of all people could be in here...

She didn’t know how to process it.

Rafe’s eyes widen as he takes a cautious step forward, his hands reaching out, gripping her arms tightly in a manner that seems desperate. His eyes are frantic, the pupils blown wide from the drugs still coursing through his system.

"Y/N, please- just… just, just hear me out-"

How could you do this to me?

He starts, his voice shaky, his words tumbling over one another, a mix of urgency and desperation. But her gaze doesn’t meet his. Instead, her eyes fall to the table, to the white powder still resting there. Her stomach churns violently, the sight of it sending a wave of nausea crashing through her. Without thinking, she pushes Rafe away from her.

Hard.

He stumbles back, his eyes are wide, still frantic, his lips parting to speak again, but he’s cut off by the girl’s shaky, breathless voice. She whispers, her eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and rage. Her whole body trembles. She can’t even look at him anymore.

"No. No, no, no-"

Y/N shook her head at Rafe, her movements sharp, as she turned on her heel, walking briskly toward the door. Her thoughts were a mess of confusion and disgust. She couldn’t stay in that room with him, not after what she’d seen, not after what he was doing there.

“Y/N, no. Don’t—”

The boy’s breathy voice broke through the tension, but she didn’t turn back.

She couldn’t.

Her pulse was pounding as she hurried down the stairs, ignoring the curious stares of the people in the living room. Heads turned, whispers rippling through the crowd, but she kept walking, the weight of it all pressing down on her chest. She pushed through people, moving as fast as she could toward the front door, she couldn’t stand being in the house a second longer and couldn't bear the thought of being around anyone after what she'd just witnessed. She slammed the door with force, the sound of it reverberating in her ears, drawing a few gasps from people standing around. Rafe’s voice continued to echo after her, calling her name, but it felt distant now. Y/N stepped out into the cool night air, her feet carrying her away from the house and toward the front yard. She lifted her hands to her face, desperately trying to push her hair from her eyes, but it didn’t help- she still felt sick. Sick to her stomach.

Sick because of Rafe.

Sick because of what she’d seen.

But before she could take another step, she felt a sharp tug on her wrist. She was yanked roughly around to face him, and her breath hitched as Rafe stood there, his eyes wide and angry. His grip on her wrist was tight,

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Rafe’s voice was harsh as he pulled her toward him. His eyes burned with something she couldn’t quite place, frustration, anger... maybe guilt.

“Stop walking away from me when I’m talking to you!”

Y/N’s heart was pounding, her chest tight as she stood there, looking up at him. The boy she had known her whole life was standing in front of her, but it felt like he was a stranger. The sickening feeling she had from seeing him in that room was still too raw, festering, and she couldn’t escape it. Without warning, she yanked her hand out of his grasp, spinning on her heel to face him. Her eyes burned with fury as she pointed at him, speaking loudly, her voice shaking with anger.

“Don’t you dare yell at me.”

She snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. Rafe seemed taken aback by the force of her words, his eyes flickering with surprise she was breathing heavily, her hands balled into fists at her sides, but the anger wasn’t enough to hide the hurt, the betrayal that still churned in her gut. Rafe’s eyes flickered with frustration, and he scoffed at her, running a hand through his hair agitatedly, his fingers pointing towards her repeatedly.

“What, you- you- you think you’re some fucking saint? You’re acting all high and mighty like you’ve never done anything wrong.”

The girl let out a laugh of disbelief, all sadness now replaced with anger, bubbling uncomfortably under her skin. She stepped closer, her fingers twitching, itching to shove the boy away from her.

“You don’t get to make this about me-”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, but there was no softening in his expression, only a growing frustration that was reflected in the way his hand fisted by his side.

“-I don’t need you lecturing me, okay?”

He snapped, his temper flaring. His threw his hands up in irritation as he spoke,

“Look at you, little Miss fucking Perfect.” His voice was mocking now, his every word laced with bitterness. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy acting like such a stuck up bitch all the time you’d see that it’s never that dee-.”

The sharp sting of his insult cut through her, the girl’s face hardening as she glared at him.

“Stuck up bitch?”

She repeated, her voice cold and cutting, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

“You really think that’s what this is about, Rafe? That I’m some bitch for calling you out for your shit?”

As Y/N’s voice rose, sharp and cutting through the night, a few of the partygoers who had been milling around the house started to drift towards the sound. They stood, spread out in a loose cluster by the front steps, all of them silently observing. A few exchanged glances, their faces a mixture of curiosity and surprise, the kind of unease that only comes when you realize you’re watching something you shouldn’t be. They didn’t interrupt; they didn’t even move much. There was a sort of tense stillness as they all absorbed the unfamiliar sight- it was like they were seeing a side of the two that had never been shown before. Among the crowd, Sarah’s anxious energy couldn’t keep still. She pushed through the small group, a hand on John B’s arm as she urgently muttered,

“Someone needs to do something.”

John B glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly trying to figure out what to say, but before he could say anything, JJ chimed in from behind him, the lack of his usual attitude making the situation feel even more tense.

“I don’t think we should intervene...”

His gaze still focused on the two in the yard. John B stepped in, gently pulling Sarah back a little, he let out a deep breath before giving her a soft but firm look.

“I know I don’t say this often, but c’mon, listen to JJ. We don’t want to make this worse.”

Sarah clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she anxiously watched Y/N and Rafe continue their heated exchange. Her teeth grazed her nail nervously, a flicker of concern crossing her features.

“Someone needs to get Topper or Kelce.”

As Sarah stood there, unable to tear her eyes away from the two in the yard as their brutal argument floated overhead, she wasn’t sure if just standing back was the right thing to do.

“What is wrong with you?”

The look in his eyes was the same: cold, distant, and filled with frustration. His jaw twitched, his muscles tense, as he rolled his eyes at her words. “Oh, here we fucking go,” Rafe muttered under his breath, his sarcasm dripping with annoyance. Y/N’s disgust only deepened.

Just shut up, just shut the fuck up-

“Seriously?” she said, her voice low but cutting. “Coke? You literally just—”

But before she could finish, Rafe interrupted her brutally, his words coming out in a sharp, unexpected burst.

“Your brother died three years ago,” he spat, his voice rising in agitation.

“Fucking get over it.”

…

Her blood ran cold, her chest tightening at the words, she opened her mouth, ready to retaliate, but her throat went dry. His words had thrown her off completely. She stood frozen, blinking, unsure of what to say in response to something so cruel, so unexpected. Rafe’s eyes never softened; his glare remained hard. Y/N let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, more like a scoff that escaped her lips in disbelief. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, her head shaking slowly,

"You’re nothing but a fucking junkie"

She spat, the words slipped out of her mouth malisciously. At her words, Rafe’s expression flickered for a brief moment- but it was quickly masked by a cold look. His jaw clenched as he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he leered down at her, a dangerous intensity in his gaze.

"Oh yeah?"

He sneered, his voice dripping with a mockery that sent a chill down her spine. His fingers lifted, pointing erratically at his temple as he spoke.

"I think we both know what you are Y/N."

Y/N’s jaw clenched tighter as she refused to back down. She looked up at him, her eyes locked with his,

“What am I, Rafe?”

A dark, almost repulsed smirk curled on Rafe's lips, and he leaned in his eyes scanned her face with disgust before he spoke,

“You’re just a fucking slut”

He spat, his voice low and biting as he jabbed his finger aggressively into his own chest,

“Throwing yourself at me and when I tell you I don’t want you…” He paused, his finger now pointing towards her house, his expression a mix of anger and repulsion.

“You whore yourself out to Cooper.”

The boy stood there, his chest rising and falling. Y/N didn’t move, didn’t speak, her expression unreadable, her silence loud in the space between them, the ringing of her pulse loud in her ears. Rafe observed her for a moment longer, eyes flickering between her face and the people still quietly watching from the sidelines. Satisfied that she had nothing left to say, he let out a short, mocking scoff. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a smirk, his hands slipping into his pockets as he tilted his head toward her.

"Am I wrong?"

He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, like he had won some twisted game. His eyes bore into hers, searching for any sign of weakness. Y/N didn’t respond immediately. She stared back at him, her features neutral, but deep down, she wanted to shout at him, to humiliate him the way he’d just humiliated her in front of everyone. But there was nothing left to say, her throat felt tight, like his words had stolen her ability to speak.

"You want to know what your real problem is, Y/N?"

He said, his voice colder now, cutting through the tension. She clenched her jaw, her fingers digging into the palms of her hands, but still, she didn’t speak, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her wavering voice.

"You're just like your mother- always looking for validation, always trying to get someone to notice you."

A lump formed in her throat as his words sank in making it hard to swallow. Her lip trembled slightly as his words sliced through her, harsh and unrelenting.

"Maybe if she paid more attention to you growing up, you wouldn’t be out here begging for anyone’s approval-"

The crack of a slap rang in the air, reverberating in the thick silence that followed.

Rafe’s head jerked to the side and he stood frozen, his cheek stinging from the force of the blow, his eyes wide with disbelief. Y/n’s hand dropped to her side slowly, her fingers curling slightly still feeling the burn of her own action. With a sharp intake of breath, his hand lifted to his face, touching the sting of the slap. He turned to the girl suddenly only to bump into someone.

"Hey, hey- hey!"

Kelce called out, voice urgent as he moved in between them, his hands outstretched to Rafe placing them on his shoulders, trying to calm him down from moving towards Y/N again. He had finally made his way down with Topper, the two having sobered up from witnessing the entire exchange from a distance as they pushed through the crowd to try and get to the two. Rafe’s angry footsteps faltered as he scowled, barely taking a moment to register who it was before growling in frustration. He clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking toward Y/N again, seething with barely contained rage. Behind her, Topper quickly moved in. His shoulders tensed, and he instinctively put himself between the two. His palm raised defensively, trying to hold Rafe off, though his own body language was tense.

"Come on, man—"

Topper spoke, his voice more steady, but with an edge of warning as he stepped forward, hand outstretched to Rafe, trying to prevent the situation from escalating further. But Y/N, barely containing her own anger, snapped,

"Get the fuck off my property"

She shouted furiously, her words cutting through the tense air. Her words sent a ripple through the crowd of onlookers, making the already awkward situation even more charged. Whispers of ‘he’s psychotic’ and ‘she’s doing too much’ drifting around the patio, but none of it helped ease the already unbearable tension. Y/N, glared at Rafe, not backing down. His eyes were filled with rage, but he couldn't quite seem to process her defiance,

"You're a fucking bitch, d'you hear me?"

He yelled back at her, his words laced with venom, his anger practically radiating from him. Y/N laughed bitterly at his insult. Her finger shot out to point directly at him, her stance tense with barely restrained fury.

"I hear you, you asshole"

She shot back, voice filled with disdain. Topper, now realising the situation was escalating, turned around quickly, his hand coming out to Y/N's arms. He muttered, voice strained as he tried to gently pull her away from the confrontation.

"Y/N, don't do this..."

Rafe's posture was rigid, his broad shoulders tense as if every muscle was wound tight with anger. He took a step forward Kelce cautious at his movement, his jaw clenched in frustration.

“What, you’re gonna threaten me now? You think you scare me, Y/N?”

She met his gaze with a cold, unflinching stare. “If you don’t get off my yard, I’m calling the fucking cops,”

She said, her voice low and sharp. Rafe’s eyes flickered with mockery, his lips curling into an arrogant smirk as he tilted his head.

“Yeah, you’re gonna call the cops on me? What’s next, Y/N? Gonna cry about it to mommy?”

He laughed bitterly, his chest heaving with the irritation he was trying to hide. Y/N’s eyes never wavered. Her stomach churned, but she didn’t let it show. The words came out of her mouth with disdain,

“You’re pathetic.”

Rafe laughed again, that cruel, bitter sound echoing in the tense silence. He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly agitated.

“You’re not worth my fucking time”

He muttered, his voice dripping with contempt. Rafe didn’t even look back as he turned toward the road. He was breathing heavily, each stride heavy and deliberate, but the lingering tension in his posture remained. Kelce glanced at Topper, a quick, unspoken exchange between them. Kelce’s expression was hard, his eyes darting to Rafe before he turned to follow, his footsteps purposeful and quick. Y/N stood there, watching Rafe walk away, her breath shallow as she fought to keep herself from shaking. Her legs trembled beneath her, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest, suffocating. Her hand still burned from where she had slapped him, but it felt like an eternity ago. She kept her eyes locked on the road, watching until Rafe disappeared completely from sight. Topper’s hand settled gently on Y/N’s shoulder, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cold, biting air.

“You okay?”

He asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of concern, but she didn’t respond. Y/N’s face was unreadable, feeling the eyes of the crowd still on her. The air around her was thick with judgment, whispers rising and falling like the waves crashing against the shore not far from her home. She refused to show the anger and hurt bubbling just beneath the surface. Her jaw tightened as she shook her head slightly, brushing off his hand.

"I'm fine."

She muttered, her voice low but sharp. She turned and began to walk back toward the house, her steps stiff and calculated. The crowd parted, sensing her need for space, as she made her way up the steps of her patio. Each one felt heavier than the last. As she reached the top, her eyes flickered briefly over the crowd, but she didn’t stop. The murmur of voices still surrounded her, but she kept moving, her gaze fixed on the open door ahead. The noise faded to a dull hum in her ears. Before she could fully enter, Sarah pushed through the group of onlookers, rushing forward with urgency.

“Y/N—” she called out, but the girl didn’t turn around.

She didn’t slow down.

Without a word, Y/N walked straight through the open door, her feet carrying her through without hesitation. Her voice rang out, clear and final as she stepped foot inside the house,

“Party’s over.”

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

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616

197 notes · View notes

str4ngr · 6 months ago

Note

Hello!! Could u do number 5 angst with megumi jjk??

no. [crying.]

just not now.

m. fushiguro. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: angst, foul language, unrequited love, rejection, gn! reader. wc: 629. notes: we're not friends. not proofread

His eyes met yours like a scalding hot burn, piercing your soul in merciless indifference,

"Sorry, but no."

Megumi's voice echoed in your head, no longer the song that made your heart sing but what made it shatter. Your breath felt like it shrunk in your lungs while each word and emotion began to ball up into a lump in your throat. Your eyes were blown wide, staring right at him but it felt like you couldn't see him. The warm curves of his cheeks turned into the creases in his forehead as he raised a brow at you,

"What? Look, y/n, I don't see you like that."

It felt like autopilot, robotic smile on your lip as you nod, letting him walk away with a dry expression as he turned his back on you. He didn't look back, the uncomfortable glare of unreciprocated feeling lingering on your face as your back faced his. it felt hard to swallow, it felt like your head was coming unscrewed from how fast it was spinning. Were you truly that delusional?

They always say when a door in life closes, another open, but right now? Right now, it feels like every single molecule of space around you is a door slamming shut and squeezing you alive. Your feet dragged back to your dorm, phone discarded somewhere, muted as regretful texts from Kugisaki lit up your lockscreen.

Curled up beneath a behemoth mountain of sheets, you still felt cold, the reminder of his dismissive stare, his hands in his pocket, the way all those bubbly feelings in your heart bursted into searing rejection that felt like they tore apart your chest.

The wall felt happier to stare at then yourself. God, maybe you really were wearing rose-tinted glasses. You pursed your lips, think to every time your mind brought you to a hopeful la-la-land of your ideals.

Every time Megumi 'stared' at you, was he staring at you, or was it because you were sat next to Panda, who he was talking to? Or... when he remembered your favorite snack! Or maybe it's because Itadori told him, since he was the one who was supposed to get them. And he was the one you had told... How about your birthday? No, all he did was contribute to the collective gift given by the other first-years.

With how dehydrated you were, you weren't sure if it was now that you became deranged, or before. But probably the latter, considering your mind was now brutally slapping you in the face, each memory of your pathetic puppy love followed by the raging reminder of rejection.

Maybe today wasn't the day to feel confident, maybe you shouldn't have hyped yourself up in the mirror this morning.

Early morning practice was a weekly shenanigan; shenanigan because most of the time, those who were not dueling to the half-death were goofing around. Today was just another one of those days, with Maki and Kugisaki going head to head in a close combat training. Megumi had. just finished with Itadori, and fuck did he look beautiful, wrist wiping the sweat on his forehead, his fringe flipped back as his chest slightly heaved.

You couldn't help but admire the way the just risen sun's light glimered off each bead that trailed down his defined cheekbones, or how his sharp eyes glared into Itadori at some stupid joke he had made. Megumi had decided to go refill his water bottle, and you decided to trail along. God, did you regret that now.

How much more fucking obvious could it be? You were being delusional, desperate, grasping at the straws of romantically meaningless, platonic, actions, playing make-believe as if they meant anything at all.

Class would be much harder from now on.

notes: oh my gee i havent used y/n in so long....

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xxsunoosprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Reunion

Jake x fem!reader

Your first night with Jake after months apart.

MDNI, 18+, not full out fucking but pretty close, college!AU, fem bodied!reader, talks of consent, humor, fluff, smut, long distance couple, reunion sex, feeling overwhelmed, not edited because I didn’t feel like it sorry

“Fuck, baby Fuck” Jake is panting hotly against your mouth, desperately pawing at your top. He’s going at it blind— he’s too busy drinking in your beautiful face being so close to his after so long— so sue him if he stretches out the neckline of your top to get your tits out. It’s some cheap cami you packed to sleep in during the long weekend you are spending in Jake’s dorm. Secretly he is happy that stupid tank top is gone, anyway. ‘Opportunistic’ feels like too sophisticated of a word to call a man that is actively humping against the meat of your ass, but he grins to himself as he pictures ruining every single shirt you brought so you are forced to wear his shirts instead.

He’s on some brain dead, gooner train of thought about maybe ruining your panties, too; soiling them with his cum; having you soak through them until they are unwearable; tear them apart trying to get to your cunt; anything so that you spend the weekend not only in his shirts but with no bottoms so he can fuck you whenever; when you notice the mess he has made of your top.

“Jakey” you whine, feeling silly trying to scold him. Especially because his eyes are trained on your boobs when you talk to him. It makes you giggle when he mindlessly hums out in acknowledgment. “D’ya forget my eyes are up here?” Your voice is gentle despite the heat building in your tummy.

“You say something hun?” He says, and you have no time to think about it if was a joke or not because he’s hardly done talking before his he is taking a nipple into his mouth. His eyes roll back as he feels you keen into him, as if he hasn’t spent the last thirty minutes mouthing at the skin on your neck. But spending so much time apart is hard. It’s so hard. He talks to you on the phone every night, texts you all day long, jerks off to the thought of you at least once every day, and maybe all that pining makes his dick grow fonder because having you in his lap is so much better than whatever image his mind could conjure up.

Maybe your nipples aren’t even all that sensitive, but the way that he licks, and sucks, and bites, and pinches… fuck it would take a lot less to make you moan the way you are now. His eyes flutter closed as he hums against your tit, and his hands greedily run up and down your back. Occasionally, he detours when he reaches the bottom, taking your ass into his hands and spreading you so he can slot the bulge in his pants between your cheeks. The dry friction of your panties and his shorts somehow makes this feel so lewd. I mean fuck he’s literally drooling, a hot line of spit slowly searing its way down your stomach.

“Fuck I missed you baby. Missed the way you taste, missed your soft skin, missed the way you moan so sweet for me. You feel that? Feel how hard I am for you. You are the only person that could ever make me feel like this.” His coos and babbling is endless, already pussy drunk, already leaking a downright obscene amount of tacky precum and making a mess of his boxers, and he hasn’t even undressed you properly. It’s all so hot you can’t help but desperately grasp the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. He’s practically suffocating in your chest, but still he gazes up at you, unfocused eyes and a dopey grin, and god. Your hips grind down with extra intent.

He coos at you before he’s moving to lay you back. It’s a twin xl, but he has really tried to make this as comfortable as possible for you. He swapped out his single, flat pillow for three memory foam ones after you laughed at his set up the first time you visited. It makes a perfect backrest as he lays you out like feast. And as he sits back onto his calves, his gaze is so intense that it leaves you blushing despite being in this position many times before. It makes you nervous; the way your sweet and dorky boyfriend now looks so intense. Not even the Lego sets on the shelf you catch a view of just over his shoulder distracts you from how hot he looks.

His hair has grown out since the last time you saw him. FaceTime didn’t do him justice. Now, it nearly obscures his eyes and comes to a soft curl at his ear. You resist the urge to sit up and tuck it away, instead you grip at the white and blue striped comforter beneath you.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the air and his hand falls to rest on your hip, thumbing the elastic band of your panties. “You okay? Lost you there for a second.”

His smile reminds you that this is still Jake. He looks just a little more mature, a little more buff but it’s still Jake. You nod a bit, reaching down to interlace your fingers with his. It was only 3 months you had spent apart, but right now, it feels as if it has been so long you are laying bare beneath him for the first time.

“Yeah just…” you shrug. He squeezes your hand. “It’s been a while”.

His smile fades a bit, a small frown coming across his face. “Yeah…” he says, confusion lacing his tone.

There is a beat of silence, “I like… I don’t know. You look different. Hotter.”you clarify before he draws an incorrect conclusion. There is some slack as his grip on your hand loosens and you are quick to tighten your own hold. “Like so hot I’m nervous” you admit easily, though your laugh as some strain behind it.

His frown deepens, “Do you wanna stop? You know I would never be upset about that.” His head tilts to the side, the same way it does when you guys study together on a call and a problem set stumps him.

“No I don’t think so…” you start slowly “unless you want to!” quickly follows, and just as fast he is shaking his head ‘no’. His dick hasn’t flagged once in the last hour.

“Okay” he drawls out, “if you aren’t sure then why don’t we stop for a second? We can just cuddle for a bit and talk until your nerves are calmed down. And if you want to fuck later, we fuck later.” There is a gentle smile on his face that feels like home, even as your heartbeat hammers in fear of disappointing him.

“It’s our first night together in months though…” you trail off, your voice is quiet and your free hand reaches for the plushie jammed between the wall and his bed absentmindedly in search of comfort.

He picks up your leg and swings it to the other side of his body so he is no longer trapped between your thighs, letting go of your hand only briefly as he lays down next to you. His head is propped up in his hand as the other caresses your stomach “I know… and I want you, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not putting my dick in you until your mind is in the right place”

You nod, as your eyes flutter closed “yeah… yeah. I just got a little overwhelmed, I think. It feels silly, like I’ve seen you jerk off over FaceTime about a thousand times, but actually seeing you… touching you… it was so much more intense.”

He looks over your face, heart skipping a beat as he recognizes the vulnerability you are showing, and then aching as he registers the sheepish tone in your voice. “If this means anything… I was really nervous about tonight too.” You open your eyes to see his crooked smile.

“Really?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He nods.

“Y/n, I went with Sunoo to get my dick waxed.” He says flatly, knowing it will make you laugh. It does.

“Oh? I didn’t mind your pubes.” You say honestly, although, it is through giggles. He smiles big, showing all his teeth and giggles with you. He reaches down to tug his waistband down a bit, and now that you are looking, his happy trail is gone and the sliver of skin you can see just under his hipbones is bare.

“I know you didn’t, pervert.” He teases. You make an affronted noise and smack his chest lightly. “I just got in my head about how this had to be really good sex. Like out of a romance novel, mind blowing, reunion sex. I started thinking about… if you would like how I looked and I got a little carried away.” He blushes but doesn’t look away from you.

“Jakey…” you turn to face him “you know I don’t care about stuff like that. Just being with you again is enough.”

He nods as if to say ‘exactly!’ And your mouth hangs open in understanding. “Oh.” you say, eloquently.

“I just want you.“ he says, bottom lip pulling into a pout and the corners of his lips tug upwards the way they do right before he breaks into a shit-eating grin, knowing his weird waxing story would make you understand.

“Stop looking at me like that!” You laugh. He wiggles his eyebrows in an exaggerated display of lust. You let out a grown of faux exasperation as he rolls you onto your back and kisses his way up your neck to your lips. You exchange a few slow kisses, smiling against his lips as he grips under your thigh to ruck your leg up against his waist.

“You’re so sexy it kills me. Even if we don’t fuck tonight, know that I find you irresistible” he whispers against the shell of your ear, grinning as you giggle and shy away from his ticklish breath.

“Such a sap” it’s a cheap deflection, but he pulls back to grin down at you and you smile back, reaching up to cup the back of his head before pulling him into a series of short kisses.

You squeal as he flips the both of you over, now having you straddling his lap, just as you guys started. Something sweet settles low in your stomach, a gentle and pleasant weight that grounds you. Reminds you. This is still your Jakey.

A/n: reunion… hah… get it… because I’m back and reunited with you guys. Realistic and awkward smut scenes make me smile. That’s all byyyee come say hi to me in my requests :p xx - princess

taglist: @criminalyun @jungwon-wife @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (message me to be added)

#enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen x y/n #jake enhypen x reader #jake x y/n #jake x reader #jake smut #enhypen hard hours #enha imagines #enha scenarios #xxsunoosprincess #enha x y/n #enha x you #jake x you

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nightunite · 2 months ago

Note

r.e. with johnny banging one of his maids

what's the breaking point or final straw that makes the maid finally snap and make the decision to leave soap? or, maybe even the point just before the decision is made?

-- 📖

Omg my first anon who signs their name! Welcome! Enjoy this angsty piece! Following the revelation that she is not the only one Johnny sees in the duchy, she does her best to limit her time with him. The thought of him touching her makes her skin crawl, makes her stomach curdle over the memory of him holding the other maid so tightly to him (the way he held her, how many more are there-). However, she also knows she cannot avoid him entirely, cannot retreat fully as he is still her employer, a fact seared into the forefront of her mind now when it should have been when this all started. She tries not to show her discomfort when he leans into her space, as she can now smell the perfumes of other women on his skin, can see his plump mouth most likely having kissed another before coming to her. She wonders if he even bothered to wash himself between, or if the hands he touches her with are still coated in the consequences of his actions. There's no comfort in his concern over her, him spending more and more time as the days go by to coax her into telling him what's the matter, is someone bothering her? He'll make it all go away for his sweet little maid, his favorite. He winks as he says their inside joke; bile creeps up her throat at the knowledge the joke is on her and always has been. She just manages to kiss him, brushing off anything further with a variety of excuses: She isn't feeling well, there is so much she has to do, a guest is due shortly. She even uses the tried and true 'I am unclean' excuse, face flushed as she looks down, desperate for him to believe it even though the stress of the situation she has found herself in has put it off for the forseeable future. Every time she feels her heart lurch over the sight of him, her stomach lurches as well. It's a struggle for her to keep food down, constantly envisioning the man she loves with other women. The knowledge he would have to wed someone of his station had always loomed over her, the thought of him forsaking his reputation due to being in love with her a fantasy she only indulges in when she lays down for bed. These days the thought brings more cruelty than comfort, and it's resulted in her stumbling from bed to heave up the meager portion of dinner that she manages to eat. The other staff notice how there seems to be an air of illness about her, her face paler than before, eyes red-rimmed at times, the dazed look she gets when she thinks no one is watching. The cooks especially take note of it, see how she struggles to keep food down, how she picks at her plate unless it's the blandest of soup or a portion of fruit. The head cook, a stern woman who runs the kitchen efficiently and while putting the fear of God into those who test her, has rubbed her back alongside the head maid more times than not when she hangs her head in the toilet. "I swear lass, you heave more than an expecting mother. Duke MacTavish ought to call in the doctor and have you seen to already, before you waste away!" If her eyes weren't blinded by tears, they would be wide open in horror. The vomiting, the missed days, the sleeping... All caused by stress yes but... Is there anything more stressful than carrying a new life inside of you? Particularly one born of such circumstances? Her breathing picks up, the last of the bile coughed out while her mind races, the thought growing more and more sure as she thinks back to the days when she and Johnny had gone further than they ever should have. The best case scenario is people assuming she is a loose woman; a random unnamed man being the father and her child being a bastard. The possibility to spin it as her being taken advantage of by a man who was passing through town is there, not likely to work but still an option. The worst case though? The scandal of bearing a Duke's bastard, of having lain in her employer's bed? All of them would be ruined.

The head maid sends her to bed to ensure she doesn't get anyone else sick with whatever she has. She lays in her bed, hand shakily pressed over her stomach, watery eyes fixed on the ceiling while she bites her lip to keep from sobbing. She has to get out, even if there is no child inside her. Things have crossed a line and she's clawing at it to let her back on the other side. This was doomed from the start, and this needs to end before this becomes a choice she can't take back. There has been recent gossip of the Baron of the woods returning, of him needing new staff due to several of his retiring from age. No connections to Duke MacTavish, a place out of the eyes of society, a man who does not partake in the prodding of other's status. It appears she will need to find a way to visit the Baron's home discretely. Soon.

#Baron Konig AU #That's the tag I'm running with for this

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7ndipity · 11 months ago

Text

“Are You Confident?”

fwb!Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: The one where you get fed up with Jungkook’s teasing and decide to take him up on his offer.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. oral(m. receiving), swearing, Jk starts out fuckboy-ish but turns subby, slight dom reader, reader’s referred to as Noona, not proofread

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my drafts since early December, but I finally managed to finish part one! This is sort of a prequel to this drabble, so if you can read it too if you liked this one. I’ll also be posting part two and a masterlist(hopefully)later this week, so lmk what you think!

Masterlist

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If you had to choose a favorite place in the whole world, you would choose Jungkook’s apartment without a thought. Not your own apartment, not you favorite shop, not even the dream vacation you’d been planning and saving up for forever, just being tucked into the corner of Jungkook’s couch, Bam curled up next to you, his massive head resting in your lap, subtly begging for pets as you vented to his owner about your most recent dating fiasco.

The guy one of your friends had set you up with had seemed nice enough at first, but as dinner progressed, things had progressively gone downhill.

“Did he least pay for dinner?” Jungkook asked, sprawled on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’d assume so, I walked out before the bill even came.” You replied, taking a long drink from your glass.

“Why do you even bother with dating anyway? You said before you hated it.” He asked.

“I’ve told you, I’m… lonely.” You said pointedly, avoiding his eyes.

He squinted at you, understanding suddenly flashing across his face.

“Ah, so you just need to get laid?” He asked, sitting back with a smirk as your face flushed with color. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could help you with that.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groaned, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m serious.” He said, following you. “It’s better than fucking some random asshole.”

This type of conversation was a recurring thing in your friendship. Jungkook loved to tease you, and with a relationship that had grown as close as yours had, he had plenty of opportunities.

Your friends often joked that the two of you should just date already with the way you acted with each other, often toeing the line between what was typically considered okay for ‘just friends’. You’d slept in the same bed more times than you could count(a fact that had made Taehyung nearly choke on his drink when he’d found out), you’d even kissed at his friend's New Years Eve party after a few too many drinks and a similar conversation to the one you were currently having, lamenting about not having someone to kiss at midnight.

You didn’t know what had possessed you to do it, all you could remember was hearing the countdown and leaning in, connecting your lips with his for the briefest moment, only for him to quickly chase after yours when you had started to pull away.

Neither of you had brought it up afterwards, but the memory of it was permanently seared into your mind; the feel of his lips moving against yours, the way his hands had gently gripped your waist-

You shook your head, redirecting your attention back to the current moment, trying to ignore Jungkook as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I’m just offering a possible solution to your problem,” He said, shrugging as he grinned at you. “You know, if you’re really desperate.”

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. When's the last time you even went on a date again?”

Your words had the desired effect on him, turning his expression sour.

“That’s different, I’ve been… busy.” He said grudgingly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You grinned triumphantly.

“I mean it though,” He said. “If that’s really all you’re after, I’d be glad to help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I mean, like you said, it’s not like I've got anything going either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, just two friends helping each other out.”

“That is, if you think you can handle me.” He added with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an irritated laugh. “Please, I could handle you.”

“Are you confident?” He asked, quirking a brow at you.

“Yes.” You answered immediately, catching both him and yourself off guard as you stared him down.

Your words weren’t entirely true, you weren’t all that confident when it came to things like this, but Jungkook had a way of triggering your stubborn streak, whether it was with that cocky smile he always threw your way or the domineering tone he like to tease you with, something about him made you suddenly brave and willing to challenge anything he said.

Normally, that was part of what made your friendship fun, the two of you constantly bickering and at odds with each other, but this was much different than arguing over where to get dinner or what to watch on tv.

You were chest to chest now, able to feel his heart pounding surprisingly fast as he stared down at you.

“Prove it.” He said, his tone having lost its teasing edge as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

That was all it took to make you break.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pushing him back against the wall as your lips clashed.

This wasn’t at all like the first time you’d kissed, there was no hesitancy or tender playfulness, it was hot and rushed and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

You were aware of a voice in the back of your head frantically screaming at you, something about how this was terrible idea and could ruin things between you and Jungkook completely, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as his warm hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. He tasted sharp and sweet like the wine you had brought, his skin hot under your fingertips as your hands slipped from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands and earning a low grunt from him.

His grip on your hips tightened before sliding down to grope your ass, grinding you against the growing bulge in his pants.

A surprised squeak left you, making him chuckle against your lips as you mentally cursed yourself. You were not about to let him have the upper hand, not this quickly.

You slipped a hand down between you to palm him over his pants, squeezing just enough to cause what sounded very much like a moan to you to release from his throat, though you knew he’d tried to deny it.

Just as suddenly as you’d begun, you pulled away, making his eyes snap open in confusion.

“What are you-?” He panted, stopping in shock as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m helping you out.” You said simply, undoing his belt as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, breathing unsteadily.

“I need words, Sweetie.” You said, making him flush at the petname as you fiddled with his zipper. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want it,” He quickly blurted, giving up control with surprising ease as he stared down at you, eyes black with need. “I-I want your mouth, please.”

“Good boy.” You tugged his jeans down, revealing the prominent tent in his boxers, a small wet patch on the material showing just how eager he was.

“These are cute.” You commented, toying with the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, making him jump slightly. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Noona, please.” He whined in frustration, his head falling back against the wall as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“Fine, since you’re asking so politely.” You pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, hanging heavy in front of your face.

He was slightly bigger than you expected, the tip flushed deep red and leaking precum as you took him in your hand, making him shudder.

“Mm, should’ve known, even your cock’s pretty.” You mused, leaning in to give it a cursory lick, sucking the tip into your mouth for a moment before pulling back, leaving a few kisses along the underside of his length as you glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

He was staring down at you slack-jawed, his breaths coming out in uneven pants as you pumped him with your hand.

He already looked slightly fucked out and you’d barely done anything to him yet, giving you a massive surge of confidence as you held eye contact with him, gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth before letting it dribble down over his twitching length.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, squiming slightly.

Still holding his gaze, you took him fully into your mouth, sinking down as far as you could go.

“Fuck!” He gasped, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as you pulled back, swirling your tongue around him teasingly before sinking down again, letting him hit the back of your throat and holding him there for a moment before pulling off.

You quickly found your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on him and using your hands on what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He let out a low whine, fists clenched so tight against his thighs his knuckles had gone white.

Noticing this, you used your free hand to guide his to your head, letting him tangle his fingers in your hair and giving him something to ground himself with.

All too soon, you felt him beginning to tense, his grip on your head tightening as his thighs started to shake.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Where do you want me to-?”

You only answer to him taking him and deeper and swallowing around him, making him cry out as his hip bucked forward, fucking your face as he chased his release.

“Shit, Y/n, I-” His words were choked off with a groan as he came, cumming down your throat in hot spurts.

He slumped back against the wall, breathing hard as you slowly pulled off of him, making a point to meet his eyes again as you swallowed.

“Shit, Y/n,” He said weakly as you stood back up. “That was-”

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him twitch against your leg as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @ldysmfrst

#jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x plus size reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #bts drabble #bts smut #bts x curvy reader #bts x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts series #bts scenarios #7ndipity

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taleeater · 3 months ago

Text

Lab Rat Part 1

TMNT 2003 x Reader

Opening setting inspired by the blood draining scene in the 2014 TMNT bayverse movie.

Reader has she/her pronouns.

The turtles are captured and taken to a secret laboratory to be tested on. But they are surprised by what- or who they find there. With seemingly no hope for rescue, they are forced to rely on the strength and bravery of their frail and timid new friend.

Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, mention of experimentation, blood, injury, electrocution, whump

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A pulsing headache, bright lights searing through his eyelids, muffled voices, and the subtle scent of ethanol. This is the uncomfortable sensation that greeted Leo as he drifted into consciousness. He blinked his eyes open to a squint, his blurry and slightly concussed vision trying to adjust to the room. In front of him, he saw a few figures moving around the wide open room of a low lit laboratory. Though it was hard to really make out the shapes past the bright spotlight shining in his eyes. He groaned and tried to move, finding his limbs restrained, arms stretched out on either side of him. Upon further inspection, he noticed a long thin plastic tube attached to his inner arm that snaked around the metal restraint on his wrist and fed down and out of sight. Squeezing his hand he tested the confines of the wrist strap.

“It’s a venipuncture IV… they’re draining our blood.”

Leo’s head snapped up to his right at the sound of his brother’s voice. His vision swayed at the fast movement and steading to find his purple clad brother restrained beside him.

“Donnie…? Where’s Raph and-“

“Hey!!! Leo’s up! How’s that concussion bro?” Mikey’s joking tone sounded further away.

Leo leaned forward as best he could and looked down past Donnie, seeing Raph and then Mikey strung up in a similar fashion as he was. Raph was still out cold with blood dripping from a wound on his temple.

Donnie followed his eyes and interrupted his thoughts.

“Raph got hit a bit harder than you did, he might still be out for a while.” He said with a sympathetic tone. “Do you remember what happened?” Donnie asked, in typical fashion checking for any brain damage.

Leo blinked for a moment, allowing for his mind to focus. “We were on patrol…”

The memory flashed before his eyes. It seemed routine, stopping a weapons deal from going down under a bridge by the Hudson. But when they had swooped down to start knocking out thugs, they had suddenly all been shocked with high voltage electricity. They were too stunned to find the source, the thugs stepping in quickly to knock them all unconscious before they could recover. The next thing he knew, he was here.

A low groan sounded from between Don and Mikey.

“Raph!” They all exclaimed, trying their best to turn their attention to their brother.

“Turn the lights off, will ya? My heads killing me…” He mumbled groggily.

Suddenly, a single loud clap sounded across the room, drawing their attention.

“Ah! I see you’ve all awoken. Well, mostly…” The dark figure snickered. His shoes clicked on the tiled floor as he walked closer and slowly emerged from the shadows.

A gangly pale man, slightly less than average height, thinning hair, and a white lab coat approached the podium. He stopped just shy of the base of the short staircase leading up to where the turtles were being held on display.

“I am Dr. Cobble. I am sure you are familiar with my close associate, Mr. Bishop?”

Leo, Mikey and Donnie all groaned.

“Him again? Doesn’t he ever give up?” Mikey bemoaned dramatically.

The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, well, he was kind enough to supply us with this wonderful titanium steel adjustable medical grade holding platform. See how nicely they’re working? We can plug you full of needles and you can’t move an inch.” His giddy rambling shifted into an evil sneer that had Leo glaring daggers at him.

“In exchange, I am to provide Bishop with plenty of samples… of you four mutants. After all his trouble, I’m surprised by how easy it was to capture you!” He openly laughed at them as the brothers glared at him with trepidation.

“Now-“ Not allowing anyone time to respond, the doctor loudly clapped his hands again. This time the rattling of a dingy supply cart squeaked as it pulled up next to Dr. Cobble, pushed by another person in a lab coat. “Today, we are starting out with plenty of blood samples while you four get settled. In the meantime, I’ll have my assistant here patch up any open wounds. Wouldn’t want any festering to poison our precious samples after all!” He said in a sing-song voice and strolled away to another part of the room.

“….I really don’t like him.” Mikey groaned.

“Don’t worry Mikey, we’ll find a way out of here soon!” Donnie comforted him. Raph was still worryingly quiet from his head injury.

Leo had his eyes trained on the lab assistant gathering up a tray of what appeared to be bandages and antiseptic and carried it up the stairs, approaching Leo first.

Leo bared his teeth at him and glared with sharp eyes, a warning not to try anything funny.

The intern just looked at him with tired eyes and huffed, clearly unbothered as he instead passed Leo by and walked down to start with Mikey instead.

“Woah, hey- careful with that! Ow!” Mikey loudly protested. Leo and Donnie worriedly leaned forward as best they could to watch the assistant clumsily and not-so-gently rub an ointment from his coat pocket thoroughly into the large bump on Mikey’s head and slap a large square bandage over it. Luckily their brother’s injury was not severe enough to break the skin.

Mikey whined irritably as the bored lab assistant moved on to the seemingly unconscious Raph. He gathered some antiseptic on a piece of gauze and reached his hand up to wipe away the blood trailing down Raphael’s face. When suddenly, quick as lightening, Raph’s eyes flashed open and he lunged forward as far as he could, snarling and snapping at the assistant causing him to startle and stumble backwards out of range. He dropped his tray with a loud clatter and lost his balance, tumbling off the edge of the podium with a loud gasp. He hit the tiled floor with a thud followed by a long groan. Several of the other scientists in the room rushed to his side to check if he was okay.

Raph chuckled darkly. Despite the bleeding head wound he still had some bite left in him.

Leo looked over and gave his hot headed brother an amused smirk. Mikey was chuckling and Donnie sighed in relief, deflating a bit in his restraints.

“What happened??”

Dr. Cobble strut back to the front of the room, looking frustrated. Two other scientists rushed up to him and spoke to him quickly, while the group gathered at the base of the podium dispersed when two scientists carried away the injured assistant off to another room.

“I leave you idiots alone for TWO MINUTES and you’re losing control of the test subjects. It seems like you all need a little reminder as to what to do when that happens.” Dr. Cobble stepped forward and pulled what appeared to be a remote out from his pocket. He turned a dial and flipped a switch, and in seconds Leo and his brothers were alight as electricity surged through their bodies from the restraints on their wrists.

Dr. Cobble laughed shortly as he watched them struggle, before eventually flipping off the switch.

The turtles were left panting as they tried to catch their breath.

“See? Easy as pie. Any time they act up, just use a remote! That’s what we had them updated for, to include the new additions!“ He shoved the remote back into his pocket and regarded his team. “Now, who would like to volunteer to finish cleaning up these animals?”

No one spoke up or stepped forward. There was a hush over the room as the few left standing around shifted uncomfortably. Clearly less than enthusiastic about approaching the red one again.

“Really? No one?!” The doctor's expression pulled into a sneer as he clearly became angry.

After a brief pause, a small hand reached up from the back of the room.

Someone had volunteered.

Dr. Cobble's expression morphed into one of twisted amusement as he straightened.

“Ah… my dear (y/n)… Have you decided to make yourself useful today?”

There was another pause and the small frame concealed in shadows shifted uncomfortably. They weren’t wearing a lab coat, Leo observed.

The doctor appeared to grow agitated at the lack of response and curled his hand into a fist.

“Come. Here.” He jabbed at the space in front of him as he ordered.

There was a quiet gasp from the small form, followed by the padding of bare feet across the tile as they approached the doctor.

The room was still. Leo’s breath caught in his throat as the form of a frail young woman in a white papery hospital gown and a ratty gray cardigan, crossed into the light and stopped timidly in front of Dr. Cobble, her eyes downcast. She appeared to be close to Leo and his brothers in age.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The doctor cooed in mock comfort. But it didn’t last long. He frowned at her with cold eyes and thrust a finger in the direction of the abandoned supply cart.

“Take some bandages and disinfectant up to the mutants and treat their head wounds. And be quick about it.” He followed with another loud clap that made her jolt, before she quickly nodded in confirmation and scurried over to grab what she needed from the cart. The rest of the laboratory personnel easily returned to their duties, no longer paying attention.

Leo looked over at Donnie and caught his brother watching the small figure with the same puzzled stare as he was. The purple turtle caught his eyes and they shared a questioning look before turning their attention back to the girl. She piled up a tray with gauze, bandages, and another bottle of antiseptic, before carefully ascending the stairs towards them.

She locked eyes with Leo first, and tried to offer him a small shy smile as she stopped in front of him. Her hair appeared to be unkept and overgrown, and noticed a strange metal collar fixed around her neck that caught the light as she moved. The skin peeking out underneath looked red and chapped.

“Hi…! Um… I’m (y/n)… what’s your name?” She quietly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasted no time crouching down to place the tray at his feet, carefully extracting some disinfectant onto a piece of gauze as she glanced up at him intermittently to show she was listening expectantly.

“Uh…” He glanced around first to check that Dr. Cobble had left. “Leo… my name is Leo.” He offered, feeling his brow ridges crease in confusion.

The girl straightened up and faced him again, poised with the gauze in hand.

“Leo!” Her expression seemed to brighten marginally. “Can I touch you with this? I need to disinfect your cut before I put a bandage over it. I-If that’s okay.”

Leo was honestly a little taken aback by the request. “S-sure, do what you need to.”

He watched her nod at his consent before slowly reaching up in his line of sight, so he could watch what she was doing, and gently dabbing the damp gauze at the tender spot on his head. He flinched and hissed a little at the sting, making the girl pull her hand away and locking eyes with him.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts a little. Can I keep going? I promise I’ll be careful.” Her eyes carefully searched his, her brows knit with concern and a hint of uncertainty.

Leo hesitated at such careful treatment. It almost felt like a trick. What did she have to gain from this? Who was she?

With no other current options, he sighed and pulled a half-smile. “Go ahead.”

She searched his eyes for a moment longer before returning to her task. Diligently swiping away the dried blood on his temple before stooping down and returning with a thick bandage.

“I’ll just apply this bandage and… there! We’re done. Thank you Leo.” She flashed him a small grin before pulling the tray over to work on his brother.

Leo blinked as he processed the interaction, lightly baffled. Then Donnie’s stuttering caught his attention.

“Y-y-y-yes! That would be fine, Miss (y/n). Please proceed.” He looked anxious as he watched her bend down to handle the supplies. She must be giving him the same treatment.

“Luckily, it looks like you aren’t bleeding anywhere… so I’ll just need to apply a little bit of this salve before covering your bruise with a bandage.” She held up the tin and let Donnie thoroughly look over the packaging, patiently making sure to flip it over so he could read through the ingredients and instructions. Once he seemed satisfied that the salve would be safe to use on his skin, Donnie gave (y/n) a grateful nod of approval. She then opened it in front of him and swiped out a little glob of the ointment, lifting her hand up slightly to his face after Donnie leaned down to try and smell it.

“It might hurt a little when I apply it… is that okay?”

Donnie met her eye contact and shyly smiled. “Yes, go ahead.”

And in the same manner she did with Leo, she gently dabbed on the ointment, doing her best not to prod at the swelling lump. Donnie made no noise of complaint. Then she reached down and retrieved a bandage.

“Okay, last step. Almost finished...” She looked very focused as she flattened the bandage into the right spot on his head. “All done! Thank you Donnie.” She pulled her hands away and looked at him kindly, before collecting her tray and moving over towards Raph.

This left Donnie with a similar look of bewilderment that Leo had from the exchange. He seemed a little lost in thought as his gaze drifted over to meet Leo’s, to which Leo raised an eyebrow at him, quietly asking the same question he was thinking.

“Oh no. Get that shit away from me.” Their attention was drawn over to Raph’s venom.

“I-I’m sorry! I won’t do anything you don’t want me to! I- my name is (y/n)…”

“And why should I care? I don’t want no scientist’s lackey touchin me. Now get lost.” Raph bit out angrily before settling again, his head hanging forward a bit limply as he relaxed. The girl looked downcast and seemed a bit lost, but fixed her hands together in front of her and made no move to touch her supplies or Raph.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always grouchy. Nice to meet you (y/n)! I’m Mikey.” The final brother piped up and pulled her attention. She looked over at him surprised, but quickly changed into a light smile.

“Nice to meet you too, Mikey. Is your head okay?” She asked him a little less quietly, seemingly emboldened by his outgoingness.

“Oh this? Yeah, this is nothin! You should see the other guy-“ Mikey spoke as animatedly as he could while fixed in place, his head moving around while he spoke. She giggled a little bit.

“Say, you don’t look like a scientist. Do you work here or somethin?” Leo and Donnie immediately perked up at the question, Mikey hitting the nail on the head.

“Ah- I-!” She stammered, looking nervous.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING???” A booming voice burst through the room.

All the boy’s eyes shot up to the sound of Dr. Cobble angrily striding back over to the podium. (Y/n)’s whole body was wracked with a violent tremble as she suddenly shrunk in on herself. Leo and Donnie couldn’t see her expression from their angle, but from Mikey’s eyes flashing between her and the angry doctor, his expression faded from deeply concerned to mad. Raph lifted his head up to regard the doctor with glaring annoyance.

“You should have long been finished tending to these freaks. And now I’ve caught you conversing with them?? I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK!! Now…” The mad doctor’s eyes drifted over to Raph, and with wide eyes looked him over. “Oh…! Oh ho ho…!! And it appears you still haven’t finished your job!!”

He took a step closer to the stairs, his head tilted in question and his wild eyes bore into (y/n)‘s trembling form. The girl hiccuped and shuddered as she tried her hardest to muffle her erratic breathing. She did not dare move.

Dr. Cobble reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out the remote again, not breaking his stare. (Y/n) flinched with her whole body at the appearance of the remote, but remained quiet. The boys all narrowed their eyes at the doctor in challenge, ready to feel the jolt hit.

The doctor’s face stretched into a grin, and with the remote’s setting turned up high, he flicked a switch.

But it wasn’t the same switch.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

To all of the turtle’s shock, the electricity didn’t hit them. (Y/n) shrieked at the top of her lungs as her whole body tensed from the powerful volt that erupted from the collar around her neck. The poor girl dropped to her knees and hugged herself tightly as she spasmed, unable to escape the waves and waves of painful electricity that wracked her body.

“Hey… HEY!!! STOP THAT!! THAT'S ENOUGH!!!” To everyone’s surprise, it was Raph who started yelling.

“QUIT IT, SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!” Mikey joined in, furious.

Dr. Cobble only laughed as he watched the show. After what felt like far too long, he toned down the dial and shut her switch off. (Y/n) fell limp into a slouch on the floor. The smell of burnt flesh and iron reaching their noses. Their only sign she was still conscious was her shuddering breaths.

“Was it not you who volunteered for this job? You disappoint me, (y/n)! I let you roam around the lab today! Gave you a responsibility! And you not only neglect your duty, but I catch you speaking behind my back!”

The doctor paced back and forth at the bases of the stairs like a predator, easily ignoring the murderous glowers from the turtles as he kept his attention trained on the young girl.

“I’ll give you another chance to prove yourself…” Dr. Cobble’s voice softens in mock empathy. “Finish up your job, quickly and silently, and your testing today will be minimal. Am I understood?” His tone was cold and final. (Y/n) nodded quietly from her spot on the floor.

“Good. Now hop to it.” And with another loud clap, (y/n) startled into action.

She grabbed the gauze and spilled some disinfectant onto it, and leapt to her feet. Dr. Cobble stayed put, his eyes boring into her back as he watched her do her job. But still she paused. She sniffed wetly, biting her lips into a line as she hesitated in front of Raph. Her hand poised and trembling in front of his face but not moving to clean his wound.

“…hey. Hey hey hey, it’s okay. You can do it, okay?? I give you my permission, or- whatever. Just do it!” Raph scrambled to encourage her, realizing that what she was waiting for was his consent. He looked her up and down with palpable concern, actually seeing her now.

She reached up, and still with trembling hands, cleaned the gash oh so gently until it was cleared of blood. Then quickly retrieved the bandage and carefully smoothed it over the tender bruised spot on his head.

When she was finished, she picked up the tray, and almost stumbling from her shaking, rushed down the stairs past the overbearing watch of the doctor. She placed the tray on the cart, and joined by two men that appeared to be armed guards, was quickly escorted out of the wide echoing laboratory down a hallway that led out of sight.

The brothers were stunned in silence as they watched her go, flinching slightly as the sound of a heavy metal door slamming shut broke the spell.

“Well! I think we all learned a very valuable lesson today.” Dr. Cobble started cheerily, seemingly relaxed from his crazed state. He turned to the four turtles, regarding them strung up and half bled dry on their steel crosses, and sneering smugly.

“Do not disappoint me.”

To be continued.

#tmnt x reader #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2003 x reader #tmnt 2003 raphael #tmnt 2003 leonardo #2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 michelangelo #tmnt 2003 donatello #tmnt fanfic #tmnt imagines #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader

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bitterbutblue · 5 months ago

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jane doe toxic? <3

bam yang gang ☆ jane doe x fem!reader

~ As you were leaving, you said to me "You always want far too much If even for a moment, I look away from you It’s like my mind ignites into flames." I hold back the tears about to flow Struggling to suppress the words I longed to share With just a single "Yes, I’m sorry" I closed the chapter on the days we spent together - bibi, bam yang gang ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

She grips tightly at the door, bag in hand and your sobs by her side.

"Don't make this harder than it should be."

Her voice is cold enough for you to cease your sobs for just a second because how is she so cruel about all this? Was your love just a fucking joke to her? Was your pain just a simple toy she finds herself able to throw around for fun? Something she can toss aside when she's sick of it?

"Why?"

"You know I can't do this."

"Why the fuck not?"

"God- FUCK!"

Her sudden outburst had you flinching slightly. Her cheeks reddened from anger as her tail swishes, irritated, from this whole dispute. She had always appeared so loving and caring, always looking out for you and always putting you before herself so why this? Why now? Why now with the ring stored away in your bottom drawer in your bedside table does she suddenly want to pack and leave?

"You're too much. You're so much, all the fucking time."

"Oh bullshit!" You cry, throwing the nearest thing, which just so happened to be a box of tissues, at her. She just lets it hit her chest defeatedly, watching you pick up random items like couch cushions or plastic figures from the shelves and hurling it at her and she lets each item hit her. She lets you take our your frustrations on her until you've run out of items and you just sink into the ground. You let yourself melt into the ground, becoming like a statue frozen in time- a memory forever engrained into Jane's memory. You stay in that state, perhaps not physically, but for a long time after.

"I've never fucking asked you for anything, Jane." You say through gritted teeth, your anger now growing. It's like a starving beast, willing to take anything as a excuse to fuel itself. Eating up even crumbs or specks of words to fuel this hatred to block out the searing pain, to block out the way she carves your heart out. Not even methodically- just messily. She does it with a rusted dagger, blunt.

"You ask me all the time-"

"I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME."

Silence rings throughout the apartment again as Jane's eyes darken, yous see the way her throat bobbed as she takes a deep breath in. She looks away.

The fucking coward looks away.

"Well I can't give you that."

"Why the hell not?"

"You- you ask-"

"Don't you fucking say I ask too much of you." You're seething now "Tell me, when have I ever asked you to love me more? I love the way you love me, I never complain about you not loving me in love or not- not loving in the conventional way."

Jane is silent as she stares at you. You've stood up now, knees shaky and you feel like you'll fall over any second but you still stand. You still push yourself up to look at her in the eyes.

"Tell me, Jane."

She loves you.

She really does.

But she can't.

They'll find you.

"You always ask me for too much." Is all she says, before she turns. You scream at her, you want to throw yourself at her but you want to punch her at the same time. You yell curses at her, how you wished you had never given her the chance. How you just want her to love you, how you don't even ask for much and she's just being so selfish but she's gone. The door had already closed before you could even tell her a proper goodbye.

Is this the end of your story? This the chapter you close now, the story of you two coming to an end on a Friday night in your apartment with you sobbing on the kitchen floor for the rest of the knight as your favourite melody to share with her becomes a reminder of a cruel ending.

"As you were leaving you turned around and said to me "You always want far too much" No what I’ve always wanted was one thing Just one thing sweet chestnut red bean jelly"

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #zzz thoughts #zzz x reader #zzz jane doe #jane doe #jane doe x reader #zzz angst #jane doe please one chance please #jane doe zzz x reader

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redfoxwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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AN: Opps, what happened here?

Summary: You had a job to do. It was a more complex job than people gave you credit for, a deeper job than seeing to the physical needs of your clients. Having been summoned to Pride Manor once again, you knew Lucifer's needs this holiday season were, like many of your clients, so much deeper than just indulging in the sin of lust but that was alright, you were prepared to be exactly what and who he needed this night.

CW: Sex worker Reader, P in V smut

Lucifer paced the hall, boots echoing through the long, empty halls. Each time he turned sharply on his heels, his thumb rubbed over the glossy finish of your card. The details were embossed, a silky looping of letters under his thumb. He didn’t need to look at the card to know your name or the phone number to call to summon you. The details on the card were seared into his memory, each pass of his thumb over the information just reinforced the memory.

It wasn’t often he had called the number on the card. Far less often than he ran his fingers over it, pacing the cold, empty halls of the manor. Tonight was one of those rare nights he made the call, requesting your services for what was only the fourth time.

Guilt clawed at him for having done so. You were more than your body or the services you offered. Though he was a firm believer in a person’s rights to sell their services, but he wasn’t fond of the idea of purchasing those services himself. Every time he called, he felt disgusted with himself.

He was the king of hell, for Satan’s sake. He shouldn’t need to buy companionship. He wasn’t unattractive; he knew he could go into the city and find anybody to warm his bed, but… he didn’t want to.

He told himself again and again that he wasn’t pathetic for calling for you. It was something he struggled to believe. It was just easier to hire someone than to fulfill his needs than to go through the song and dance. He was just… buying a speed pass.

You were so much more than a hired a companion for the night. That’s what he liked to call you, anyway. You provided him much more than physical pleasure. You laughed at his jokes and admired his ducks.

You were kind and funny. That was important to him, more than the amazing rack on your chest, though he didn’t mind those in the slightest. You had the prettiest eyes he had seen in decades.

Still, he felt… weird calling for you. He was the king of hell. He shouldn’t need to pay for the services… the company of a partner. It had been so long since Lilith left, through and he was lonely. The holidays were a time for family, for friends, and he was alone.

Charlie… she was off with her friends, with her girlfriend. Her old man probably didn’t even cross her. He didn’t fault her for it. She was grown now. She had her own life and deserved to spend it with the people that mattered to her.

Even if that left him alone during the holiday season.

He didn’t have to be alone.

“You called for me, Your Majesty?” You always came into the manor in that way, giving him the highest respects.

Your voice startled him out of his thoughts. He shoved the smoothe card into his breast pocket. Though he had been expecting you and had seen you before, his palms broke out in a sweat.

“Your Majesty?” Your voice was sweet, words coming out well formed and carrying almost a melody in them.

Most Sinners didn’t afford him such respect, often not realizing he could easily give them a final death with a flick of his pinky. It wasn’t a power he flaunted, using it infrequently over the last decade.

“Hello, Luci.” Lucifer cringed, smile turning brittle as he resisted the urge to run. “I mean, just call me Luci. We went over this.”

You straightened from your curtsy. “We have,” you agreed, wearing the soft smile Lucifer thought about so often. “But I think you’re a man worthy of respect. As such, should I not greet my king in such a way rather than assume?”

Your words flustered him, a golden flush rising quickly to his pale face, warming the red circles on his cheeks. There were few who thought he was worthy of any respect, let alone who didn’t require a show of power to offer it. Your respect and kindness had his stomach tied in knots. You always had that effect on him. It was a power he hadn’t felt another have over him in so long.

“Shall we go to bed?” Lucifer asked, chucking lightly as he tried to force an air of command or at least confidence, but feared he had failed.

“I’m not tired, My King.” You sauntered up to him, hips swaying as you walked. You knew why he had called you. It was why anyone ever called a prostitute. It wasn’t for sex, though that was part of it. He was lonely. He wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be held, to be loved, if only for a little while.

It was a task you were more than willing to see to, even standing in his family home, his ex-wife and daughter looking down on you from the walls. The state of his marriage wasn’t your responsibility. It wasn’t your responsibility to pick up his phone and call his daughter for him.

It was your responsibility to feel him, to see him, to hear him, to love him… just for a night.

And that’s what you did.

Reaching out, you let your hand rest against his chest, running it across the layers of fabric he wore. Jacket. Vest. Shirt. Layers and layers to defend him from the world, to keep him hidden from prying eyes. So much effort put into ensuring no one got a glimpse of the man under it all, not that he left the manor often.

You would strip each and every one of those layers from him in more ways than one until he was naked before you. That was the service he was paying you for and with him, you didn’t mind.

“I meant… shall we go upstairs… to do.. do the thing?” Lucifer tripped over his words, as he so often did early in your encounters. It was cute how you could fluster the very king of hell himself. It made you feel powerful and desired in a way none of your clients ever had… or your partners in life.

“Yes,” you purred, leaning in to speak into his ear as you sauntered around behind him, “Let’s go upstairs and do the thing.”

“Right!” Lucifer yelled, his voice so loud you would have flinched back if you were not expecting it. You were, though. Lucifer was a kind, anxious, but somewhat predictable man. As you draped your arm over his chest, pressing your chest into his back. “Let’s ah go!”

For a moment, as you let him take you by the hand and lead you through the halls, you imagined him dressed in a red plumber’s outfit, jumping out of a green pipe. It was a fleeting image, not one fair in the slightest to the height challenged king but one that had your smile pulling wider, honest, for a moment.

What movement and confidence he had gained, fleeing from the throne room, died as the door to his bedchamber clicked closed behind you. You were used to the swings of Lucifer’s mood, his confidence. Learning your client’s moods and behaviors was a part of the job.

A less experienced worker would hesitate with the change of mood, but that wasn’t you. You knew what you were doing, what you were here for. It didn’t matter what storm your client’s mood would bring, you would weather it. That was no different with Lucifer.

Lucifer stood, timid and frozen as you pulled the top had that served in so many ways as his crown from his head. You wondered, as you often did, if he had a traditional crown hidden away in the manor somewhere. It wasn’t something you would ever ask. That wasn’t your place, not now, not ever.

“So handsome,” you purred, setting the hat aside before running your fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch, as you knew he would. The king, too timid to say what he wanted, what he needed was touch starved from years of isolation.

You pulled the jacket back, letting it slide down his shoulders while you moved around his front. He was an attractive man, something that always surprised you once you got to see him without the shadows of the hat to hide his face from you.

One layer down. Nimble fingers worked the fastenings open on his vest, slowly stripping him of the ringmaster’s mask he wore. The king of hell summoned you, but that was not who you would lie with.

No, you never lie with the people who summoned you. They were the people they wanted to believe themselves to be. You would strip them bare, take all the trappings of station and wealth, leaving it discarded on the floor.

Once you had them naked, they were just a person. Just a body. Just a soul. What they needed was always the same, though how you would give it would change to their needs. They needed comfort and for someone to see them as they were.

“Lucifer,” you whispered his name, waiting for his eyes to raise and meet yours. “Are you going to touch me today?” You pushed the vest back, letting it fall as well before beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Or do you want to just lay back, relax and let me take care of you tonight?”

His hands twitched, fingers flexing, before he willed himself to move. It was always a struggle for him to start, but once he did, the feel of your skin under his hands would be enough to keep his attention on you. The demons in his mind held him back until then.

You sighed as he brushed your hair back. fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulled you to him. This was always how he started and it was something you appreciated. There was a caring, an honest kindness to his touch that most of your clients lacked, especially the more powerful of them.

He held you for a moment, the deep plunging V of your dress allowing his newly exposed chest to press directly into your flesh. The warmth of him sank into you, warming something in you that none of the heat of hell seemed to touch.

This was a part of it, you had learned early on. Sometimes, men just wanted to hold and be held. It was something they so rarely allowed themselves, that society insisted on ripping them apart for. That is why you made it a point to wrap your arms around them, holding them tightly to you for as long as it took.

It was an embrace men often melted into, with some resistance at first, sure. Lucifer had cried the first time you had wrapped your arms around him, returning his embrace with the security and warmth of not a hired body but of a lover.

That was what you really were, what they were hiring you for, even if they struggled to admit it to themselves at first. That was what you prided yourself in being for them. Unlike many of your peers, you took pride in your work, even enjoyed it.

There was a pleasure in being embraced for you, too. Standing there, holding your partner of the night in your arms as they clutched you, waiting for their grip to slacken and for them to pull back, you felt needed in a way that the raging boners and wet cunts of the bodies you serviced could never equal.

You held him and waited, shifting your weight from side to side on your heels as you rocked his body with yours. If he was smaller, they’d call the action motherly. You preferred to think of it as a dance, soft and sweet. In time, Lucifer’s grip loosened as he pulled away, stepping into the swaying dance you had started.

His face was flushed golden, as it had been every time you’d done this dance with him. His eyes were ringed with it, bloodshot from how close he had come to tears. You wouldn’t mention it. It didn’t need to be said verbally. The soft smile on your pink painted lips said it all.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said, as you knew he would. “We should get moving.”

“You booked me until morning,” you reminded him. “There’s no need to rush.”

This, too, was quickly becoming routine.

“Can I kiss you?” Lucifer’s voice came low as he looked up at you.

He had wanted a tall, slim woman with large curves and while you were slim and had some curves, you were far from the towering height he had requested.

The agency knew better than to give someone exactly what they wanted to replace. It never worked out well in the worker’s favor… or the client’s. None of you could replace a lost love. Trying only ended in either obsession or heartbreak. Neither was good for business.

“I’d like that.” Your smile spread wider as your hand ran up his chest, fingers tucked under the edge of his shirt. The warmth of his chest soaked into your hand.

His hand wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Long fingers carded through your hair, wrapping in the soft strands as he pulled your lips to his. Lips met in a soft sigh, lingering touches spread over bodies as Lucifer’s needs in the moment shifted.

You were ready. It was your job to expect it, not being surprised as he pulled the bow at the back of your neck. Silk ribbon slipped against silk ribbon as the only thing holding the dress on your body was reduced to nothing more than fluttering fabric.

The dress fell from your body in a whoosh, gathering around your feet. You, ever the dutiful lover, quickly worked the remaining buttons free on his shirt. Strong muscles that would surprise most of the sinners in hell flexed under your hands as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

The shirt hung from the back of his pants in a comical tail, trapping his arms and limiting his range of motion as he tried to pull your body into him again.

“Ducking hell,” Lucifer said, ripping his shirt from where it was still tucked into his pants. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you kissed him softly, cutting off any whispered remorses. You didn’t want to hear them. It wasn’t his job to be sorry. He could say whatever cute curses he wanted with you. It wasn’t your job to judge them. “It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“You think so?” There was a vulnerability in the question, as if no one had called him cute in a rather long time. Perhaps, if they had, he wasn’t in a place to hear it.

“I do,” you whispered, catching his cheek with a soft kiss. It was an honest answer. Regardless of what you were being paid for tonight, you found the king of hell to be rather cute. He was a charming man, handsome and with a body anyone would be glad to have pressed against them. Yet he had a boyish wonder in his eyes, a goofy smile that held no malice.

You arched into his kisses, presenting more of your chest, the swells of your breasts to him as he kissed lower and lower. As he worked, his hands ran trails up and down your back, taking in the feel of having a body under his fingertips again.

You walked backward, toward the large bed as you worked his belt open. Each movement was slow, practiced and waiting. It was important to give him the chance to take the lead, to direct the activity of the night.

In what few meetings you had shared with him, Lucifer was a timid but generous lover. It was you that was being paid to provide pleasure and yet he would take the time to taste you, seeing to it that you enjoyed the job you were getting paid for.

You had let to leave Pride Manor in a state of anything less than sexual satisfaction. What exactly it was that he liked, though, you couldn’t be sure yet. There was plenty of time to figure it out, however. Or, at least, you hoped that would be the case.

You sighed as his pants fell around his ankles, cock springing free to slap his stomach at last. There was something different about tonight, though Lucifer had not said it. He was in hurting. It was a deep pain that reached down to his very soul and while you had no illusions that you could fix it for him, that you could heal him, you were eager to be a bandage for the night.

You’d have come even if he wasn’t paying you, not that you’d ever tell the agency or the King that. If you did, that was a great way to find yourself dead, body respawning while you were stripped of every position you had accumulated over the decades.

He whimpered, a sad, needy sound deep in his throat when you wrapped your hand around his cock. You pumped your hand over the silky smooth skin of his shaft. With careful pressure of your hands, you spun him with you, putting his back to the bed.

Guiding him, you pushed and pushed, kissing him as you did until he sad down on the bed. His hands roamed you, taking in the weight of your breasts and the curve of your hips as you continued the kiss him deeply. The bed dipped as you rested one knee on the outside of his hips.

His tongue swept into your mouth as he scooted back, hips bucking up into your hand as he did so. You followed him, crawling after him as you straddled his legs. The pointed claws of his hand ran down your stomach, dipping between your thighs, finding you wet and ready for him.

Some workers applied artificial lube to themselves before their appointments, giving the illusion of an eager body for the client. It wasn’t a trick you were above using yourself. Not all partners were pleasing to your eye, nor were they all sexually stimulating.

With Lucifer, though, you had no issues allowing your body to self lubricate. He was pleasing to the eye and oh, your body reacted eagerly to his touch. It took as little as his heated gaze, his soft whimpers to have your slick gathering between your legs.

A moan, soft and honest, slipped from your lips as he caressed your clit. Slick covered fingers ran over the bud of nerves, circling it and passing over it again and again. He played your body with the expert ease of a man who had spent many nights in the company of a woman.

And yet, she had left him. It wasn’t your place to ask why. It wasn’t your place to even care about her and yet she looked down on you everywhere in the Manor. Even now, as you kissed the man that had been her husband, she looked down on you.

Her eyes watched you as you ran the gold flushed head of her once husband’s cock through your slick folds. Together, they both watched as you sank down on him, swallowing his cock within the hot confines of your body.

She left him and yet she was everywhere in this manor, haunting it like the ghost of what was. For a few hours, for a night, you would distract the King of Hell from the ghosts he lived with.

He moaned, back arching and fingers flexing into your hips as you sank lower and lower. “I was-” He whimpered again as your hips met his, body taking all of his considerable size in. “I was going to eat you.”

“Not tonight,” you purred, bouncing slightly on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts into his chest.

“No?” he looked at you with wide eyes. When he looked at you like that, you could see the angel he had once been. What you would give to see the man that he had once been, long ago, before humanity had become everything it was.

“No,” you kissed him softly, encouraging him to hold your body close by holding him. “I want to take care of you tonight.”

“You always do,” he said, as if you had hardly met more than a handful of times. “But tonight, it feels like you need someone to love you.”

“To love me?” The smile that spread on his face felt forced, brittle. If you poked it too hard, would he shatter into a million pieces? Would a simple hug be enough to put him back together again?

“Will you let me tonight?” you whispered, forehead resting against his as you slowly lifted yourself off his cock, sliding back down the hard shaft with just as much of a controlled pace. “Let me love you tonight?”

“You want to?” He asked, and in that moment, you could feel that you had him. He was entranced with everything you had to offer him. With the feel of you, he forgot you were a product, a service to be bought and sold. That was how you wanted it.

“Yes,” you sighed into him as your hips nestled against his.

“Okay,” he whimpered as his head fell forward, lips working over the soft skin of your chest.

You rode him slow, wrapped up in his arms. This wasn’t your ideal position or pace, but there was something in the soft sighs, in knowing you were bringing those sounds forth from the most powerful man in all of hell that made up for it.

It helped, too, that his cock was thick and long, caressing every nerve inside of you as you worked over him.

“Please,” he whined, looking up at you. “Let me-”

He said nothing more. You knew he wouldn’t. When he was like this, he didn’t want to use crude language. He wanted to mount you, to fuck you, but how could he say that when fucking wasn’t what he wanted?

What he wanted was to make love, but how could he say that to you? To a stand in? A hired body? A glorified doll?

You leaned back, spreading your legs out behind Lucifer as you pulled him down with you. It was a smoothe, practiced motion as you shifted. Lips moved against lips as your back hit the soft blankets.

He was careful of your hips as he shifted himself, raising up onto his knees, unfolding them from under you. It felt good to be tucked under the king of hell. Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his, bathing in the soft look of love unearned.

His cock slipped in and out of you, working your body tighter and tighter around him. He never failed to work your body toward the edge, cock easily finding every place within you that gave you pleasure.

He leaned down, kissing you as if he loved you while he thrust into you. Strong muscles flexed and jumped as you warped your arms around him. Fingers ran through the silky golden hairs at the back of his head, digging into his scalp in such a way that had him purring.

Being touched, held, caressed was something you had noticed early on Lucifer craved. It was easy to give him, even as he gave you pleasure. Your legs ran along his, holding onto him as he pushed into you faster. With every gasping breath of air, your chest rose. The warm skin of his body brushed against your nipples with every sweet thrust.

“Close,” you whimpered, lips leaving his to kiss along his jaw, whispering the word into his ear.

“Are you?” Luci whispered, looking at you with soft eyes that betrayed years of love. Part of you wished that love belonged to you, but you knew better. For the night, he would place all the love he had for his lost queen into you and you would take it with a smile, but it would never belong to you.

“I am.” Your back arched as his cock nestled into your walls again and again.

He was a talented lover. Each thrust of his body ran his pubic bone over your clit, pressing with just enough pressure to ensure the curls at the base of his cock drug against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Each pass of his body over you, through you, sent sparks to life, catching on the embers of your waiting orgasm. You clung to him as he stoked the fire inside you, panting breaths mingling as he kissed you again.

No one kissed you as much as Lucifer did. It wasn’t something you would usually allow, but you made an exception for him. When it was Lucifer, you wanted to taste his kiss and pretend for a little while it was you they were meant for.

You moaned his name, a long, drawn out sound as your body clamped down around him. He swore, something you rarely heard him do as his cock swelled, twitched and finally shot his seed inside you. Each strong contraction of your walls around him urged him on, pulling him and his seed deeper and deeper.

You clung to him as he thrust, pace slowing, riding out the waves of his orgasm as he softened. He always moaned a name when he finished, deep and buried under years of pain. If you didn’t know, you could miss it.

Lilith.

The woman who looked down on you, a simple sex worker, from the grand paintings of the manor. She was a woman you could never hope to be like, who you knew you never would be like. That was alright with you.

Lucifer shifted, cock now soft and easily falling from your body. In a daze, he fell to his side and gathered you to his chest. Warm breath washed over your head as he tucked you closer to him. The weight of a blanket settled over you, materializing out of nothing in a subtle show of power he never seemed to think twice of.

“I love you,” Lucifer said as sleep quickly claimed him, as he had every night you had shared in your post orgasm daze. It squeezed your heart, cracking it for the kind king who had been cast aside as if he was nothing. “Merry Christmas.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

#drp smutmas 2024 #Lucifer x reader #Lucifer x you #Lucifer x y/n #hazbin Lucifer x reader #hazbin Lucifer x you #hazbin Lucifer x y/n #hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel Lucifer x you #hazbin hotel Lucifer x y/n #Lucifer hazbin x reader #Lucifer hazbin x you #Lucifer hazbin x y/n

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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

Text

Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.

“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”

“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”

Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.

Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.

He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.

She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.

The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”

“Essentials,” Erica says.

Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”

“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.

Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.

“You having fun over there, Harrington?”

“Oh, tons,” Steve says.

Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.

A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.

A shadow falls over her.

Erica sits up.

Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.

“Whaddya think?” he says.

Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.

She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”

“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”

Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.

“Not quite a kukri, huh?”

It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.

A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.

Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.

Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”

“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”

“About?”

A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”

Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.

“You do know I’m eleven, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”

“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.

Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.

“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”

“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.

“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.

Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.

She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.

But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.

And that scares her.

Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.

“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”

“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”

Eddie shifts guiltily.

“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”

“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.

He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”

“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”

Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”

He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.

She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.

He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”

Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”

“The arrange—oh.”

Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.

Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.

She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”

Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.

They shake on it.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”

Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”

#erica sinclair fic #eddie and erica #lucas and erica #eddie and erica fic #eddie munson fic #eddie and erica ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #a tiny hint of pre steddie #erica sinclair #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #eddie and lucas #erica sinclair ficlet

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demonic0angel · 2 months ago

Note

hmm…domestic Anger Management, but make it one of your other strange AU’s like the archangel Jason one. Baking, cuddling, fighting enemies and then going home to do domestic things. Or one of her siblings crash and see them be domestic, and go ewwwwwwww.

Also, here’s some muffins, dearest author.

(Ty for the muffins :DDD!! Hope you enjoy some angel!Jason angst with demon!Jazz, my dear beta. It got weirdly poetic.)

Jason panted as he pulled his sword out of the now dead angel. Their wings spread open in death, feathers scattered like fallen flower petals with the leave of spring.

Jason's own wings twitched at the sight of it as he caught his breath, and he jumped at the press of nails against his feathers, digging deep to reach into his oil glands and press against them.

He turned his head with a glare.

"Jazz!" He hissed. Jazz smiled sweetly, her fangs showing as her tail wrapped around his leg, drawing him closer to hug him.

“Hello, dearest,” she said. “Did you have a good time?”

He tucked in his wings so she could have an easier time hugging him, and then turned around so he could hold her close. She purred softly and held onto him tighter. The blood of celestial beings made them both sticky, but he didn’t care.

Jason asked, frowning at her uncharacteristic demeanor, “What’s wrong?”

Jazz paused. Then she answered slowly, “Your brothers are here.”

Jason tensed. “Who?”

“… Dick and Tim.”

Jason exhaled painfully, clenching his eyes tight as he let his swords disappear in order for him to hold onto Jazz properly. Memories of his Fall flashed behind his eyelids, clear as if he had only experienced them moments ago. Memories of his brothers and sisters rising against him, casting him aside as an outsider. Memories of his big brother, whose righteous hands and hard eyes had been the one to throw him out of Heaven’s gates and into the Abyss. Memories of the pain and betrayal before Jazz had found him and saved him.

“… tell me you’re joking,” Jason said, his voice cracking and Jazz shook her head, rubbing at his wing joints in comfort. His halo, dim without heavenly grace and broken in two, laid over his head, dipped as he ducked his face into her shoulder.

He would never be the same angel as before again.

“I’m afraid not, dearest. I spotted them when I was taking care of the stragglers. We should leave now,” Jazz said softly, moving away, and Jason mourned her comforting embrace for only a moment before he nodded, pulling her back into his arms and opening his wings, once white and pristine and now blackened by his descent, to take flight.

He flapped them once, securing Jazz in his arms, before he took off.

They soared through the air and as they abandoned the battlefield, Jazz played with his curls with her dark claws and asked, “So what’s our next plan? Shall we find the next battalion of angels and ambush them too?”

Jason nodded, having no more words through the ache in his throat. Jazz cooed and petted his hair, before she said, “It’s okay, dearest. Your life as an angel in heaven is over. Now, you belong to me, in Hell.”

Jason clenched his eyes shut and tried to sear her words into his mind for strength.

“You belong to me for eternity, Jason. I’ll take care of you.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #meditating cat #jason todd #fantasy anger management au #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #anger management ideas #ty for the ask <3 #I do love anger management asks hehe #dick grayson

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messenger-of-babel · 3 months ago

Text

Till Death Do Us Part

Summary: Chris is plagued by memories, nightmares, and the dream of you. (Chris Redfield x reader)

Word Count: 2.8K

Notes: UNIT OF A MAN CHRIS REDFIELD. I love how he looks in Re8 (re7 Chris broke my heart and cut the brakes on my car fr). Veryyy minor language, I swore like once. It's funny I came here to be a resi blog and look at how the turn tables. Anyways, Chris stans rise up y'all are so nice~ xx

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Alone in the car, Chris was left with his thoughts a little longer than he would have liked.

Thumbing the lighter, he brings the flickering flame to his mouth, lighting the stick that hung from the press of his lips. With a deep inhale and slow close of his eyes, he lets the nicotine work its way around his system, blissfully whisking the worries from his mind. His muscles loosen under the layers of tactical and cold weather gear, finger relaxing on the gun trigger and letting the weapon rest in his lap. These were the moments that Chris Redfield let the memories catch up with him.

His team was setting up in their operation in Miranda’s village, voices occasionally cutting in through his radio, but they didn’t need him right now. He could have a moment to himself among the chaos of it all, and deep down he knew his team gave him the space deliberately. For a moment, he stopped running for just a second and let his mistakes settle in.

Most of the time he thought of Piers.

He thought of the young man who came to him all those years ago and dragged him out of the pit he had dug himself into. The stern face of the young soldier who tore away the coffin lid of alcohol and blacking out in alleyways, pulling him back into the light. Who made him a captain again, who never gave up on him. The very same friend who pushed himself past the limits of being human to save Chris. To save the world.

When he was younger and more guilt ridden, he had played out the 'what if' scenarios like clockwork. What Piers would be doing now if he was alive, if Chris had been able to hand the mantle over to him like he intended. It had morphed into what Piers might have done if Chris had died instead, taken his place in the escape pod and been granted the chance to see the sun again. It was endless nights of lost sleep; the dreams being replaced with nightmares every time he thought of one of those situations. His sanity and his mind hung on by a thread in those moments, doing everything he could to not relapse into the place he was before Piers. He slipped more often than he'd like, but the seared face of Piers haunted the back of his eyelids like a ghost, and eventually, he always put the bottle back down.

The second person he thought of was Jill.

She was still alive, but not the same person she had been back in S.T.A.R.S. He couldn’t blame her though; he was hardly the same either. He was more rugged, more gruff, weather beaten and fucking tired. Despite the times she caught his gaze and bluntly told him to stop worrying, he never really could. She was like his lifeline back to the Chris of the past, where he cracked smiles more often than not and spent time making jokes at the captains expense. That kind of Chris who was young and full of cheek, brimming with the audacity of youth.

and with youth came naivety and innocence.

Joining the S.T.A.R.S team as ex-military he thought he had seen everything, which had given him the boisterous ego infamous among the RPD. The fact that he missed that naivety drew a copper taste to his mouth, forcing himself to swallow and take another drag of the cigarette. Back when Wesker was Captain Wesker, and Chris's loyalty was intact and oblivious to the sting of betrayal. When he still had Barry and Dewey and Dooley and Brad. Things were simpler, despite how often he liked to brag about what went on in his job. Yet at the end of the day, he was still passionate about serving and protecting the people he loved. He thought he was making a difference.

Jill never said outright that she was mad at him, she was his partner after all. Guilt had clawed way for a burning rage when he thought he had lost her, settling in his chest like a poison. Then she had come back, with a fire in her eyes that spoke to kill him. They had worked their differences out over the years, overcoming the scars of that ordeal together. The mansion, the canyon, the incident in Africa, all of those they had talked past with more than a bottle of whisky between them, and for like a small moment it was like it had never happened. They moved forward, together. stronger. He was more grateful for her company and support than he showed, and he knew that Jill would be uncomfortable if he brought it up.

Currently his mind was stuck on Ethan.

Ethan Winters, who he had lied to about the situation involving his family. He knew that Ethan deserved to know, deserved to know about Mia, his daughter Rose. Maybe his heart had gotten more and more calloused over the years, building slowly till he felt very little at all. It was so easy to make the calls, to think of the bigger picture all the time. For the greater good of the world, unable to see the pain he caused when he took away the only world that Ethan cared about.

And now Ethan was fighting tooth and nail to get it back.

Chris respected how the man had marched bravely into the face of death for the sake of his family, to get back his daughter. Even though Chris had warned him not to and Ethan caused an insurmountable amount of inconvenience in his wake; Chris respected him. He knew that Ethan would unlikely forgive him when he found everything out, would curse him for hurting who he had thought were his loved ones. Chris knew he had failed him already, so the sting of that thought had dulled each hour he spent in this cursed village. The village that Ethan Winters was currently burning down in the name of love.

Chris wanted to shake the man down, to tell him to stop fighting and to let him and his team handle it. That his emotions were getting the better of him, and he wasn't going to get anywhere with just willpower and a handgun. He wanted nothing more than to tell him he was being an idiot, and that Chris himself would never make such stupid decisions. Yet he couldn't make the words form in his mind, knowing he himself had been just like him once, willing to throw himself in the way of everything for one person.

You.

Chris had made many mistakes in his life, but you never were one. If anything, you were the one thing that was going right for him when everything seemed wrong. When he had come knocking on your door late at night, worn out from work, you always welcomed him in with a warm smile. No one knew about you two, and that's the way both of you preferred to keep it. You were a regular cop working with the RPD, letting you both trade glances with each other in the hallways and a few too many stolen kisses in the evidence room. He had a faint feeling that Jill suspected something, but if she knew she never said.

He loved how warm you were, how kind-hearted. Late nights lying in your bed talking about life, the past and the future. Leaning over his chest with sparkling eyes one night, you had told him why you had become an officer. Something with a wage big enough to pay for your two younger sister's tuition, so they wouldn't have to face the level of poverty you had. Something that could help others get off the streets, keep the kids safe and away from the drugs and addictions that plagued Raccoon's backstreets. With a soft smile on your lips, you told him of how you wanted to buy your mother a bigger house one day, with enough money sent home each week that she would never have to wonder if she could afford heat in winter again.

His breath was stolen at the genuine way you told him of your childhood, your upbringing and struggles. The way your eyes still glimmered with life after everything, that you were still able to see the good in things. The way that you used it to make yourself stronger. Although he had been in S.T.A.R.S, in that moment he wanted nothing but to have a fraction of the sheer strength you had.

Then had come the Arklay mission, which he left for so suddenly there was little room for more than a brief peck on the cheek and a reassurance that he would be back. That hadn't been enough to smooth the worry lines from your forehead, but you let him go anyways, fingers uncurling from the material of his uniform. He wished he had looked back just a little longer, held you just a little closer, not knowing that would be the last time he ever saw you.

Of course, everything in Arklay happened, the memory of that making him sigh and tap his fingers restlessly on the windowsill. Another drag of the cigarette brought his shoulders down from bunching near his ears. exhaling the plume slowly, he closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the thought of you. It was nearly your anniversary, a week off in fact. It was the only time he allowed himself to think of you, the only time he could let himself remember the curve of your smile and the glow of your eyes. If you had been allowed to be together, you would be celebrating your 24th anniversary this year. He wondered how many of those you might have been married for, if you would have had children or any on the way. Where you would have moved to, the house you would have wanted, the life you could have built.

But it hadn't worked like that.

He had left to chase Wesker, hoping he could end it quickly and come home to your arms, body tracing its way home like a beacon. He saw traits of himself in the way Ethan fought, fighting for his daughter and wife the same way Chris had fought for you. Instead, all he got was the news of Raccoon being destroyed, and taking his heart with it. His eyes had been locked onto the grainy TV of the European hotel room, shock making tears sting the back of his eyes. He had raced back, Wesker be damned. He could always chase him down again, but you? He didn't think he could survive another night restless like that again.

He had run home like the fear of God was under his feet, eventually finding Jill. It had been an accidental reunion, and he had been more than glad to see her alive. Someone was alive, which meant that there was hope. But when she regarded him with sad eyes and a slight hitch in her tone, he faltered. He wasn't sure if he had ever felt more fear than he did in that moment, vision blurring at the corners as she pulled something from her jacket pocket to give to him.

Maybe Valentine had pieced it together after all.

For all the horrors, monsters and battlefields Chris Redfield had seen, nothing had hurt him more than seeing your badge lying in the middle of her palm. He had demanded answers, not even caring if the tears burnt themselves to the forefront, but Jill refused. her lips were sealed tight, looking down and away from him.

"For your own good." She had said firmly, jaw set tight. "You don't…you don't want to know. They wouldn't have wanted you to know." She said softly, before quietly muttering her apologies. That had sealed the deal for him, heart beating out of time in his chest. All he could do was close his fingers around the cold piece of metal he scooped from her palm, blood stained and sharp.

Chris was no fool. he knew what had happened in Raccoon prior to it being bombed. The terror on the streets, the outbreak that spread like fire. he knew of cops and S.T.A.R.S members alike that turned, but he had always had a hope that you had gotten out. You were smart, so much smarter than him. But as Jill handed him your badge, he knew that no matter how hard he tried to fight it, you were gone.

Not knowing what happened to you exactly ate at him for years, plaguing his nights and soaking his sheets with sweat. It was the same dream, hand extending out towards him, pain written on your face. "Help me." you'd plead to him, over and over. He'd try his best, but he wouldn't be able to stop the way that your skin fell from your bones, melting off your muscles and running blood down your fingertips. He tried to hold you each time, trying to keep you together as you thrashed and screamed. His touch only seemed to make you decay further, skin rippling and warping under his fingertips. With a final ""Help me," you'd lunge for his neck without fail, jerking him upright with wide eyes and a rabbiting heart. He wasn't sure what was worse, wondering if you had turned and gone though the pain of becoming infected, or experienced the horror of watching a bomb come down on you instead of a rescue chopper.

It was too hard to imagine, so over the years he built his own story. It had started originally that you died doing something heroic, saving a family or some poor civilian. That was in your nature, always kind-hearted. It slowly morphed into you fighting for your life, bravely tracking down horde after horde to defend what survivors you could find before taking your last stand, being the hero he knew you to be. However, in his old age those stories lost their shine, and the comfort they brought turned into a grimace. Nothing could take away that you lost your life too young. So now he thought of a different one, a special one he only indulged in for this time of the year.

One where you were waiting at home for him as usual, radiant and beautiful as ever. He'd be able to come back home from this mission, taking his weary body up to your embrace and letting himself rest there as you welcomed him back. Hip popped as you leant against the front porch, wearing the same uniform he had left you in all those years ago. He could gaze into your bright eyes again, cover the smirk on your lips with his own when he kissed you, hand on your waist to remind himself that you were real. He'd take you out to some local restaurant you had both made your favourite, something he imagined you found together when you moved out of the city. In a quieter place like the countryside, just what you wanted. He'd take great pride ordering the meal you liked, something that he knew by heart. It was a dream where he got to see you all dressed up, smiling at him from across the flickering candlelight, reaching over to envelop his hand with yours. Then he would cast his eyes down and see the ring on your finger, filling his heart with warmth.

That was something that his nightmares couldn't even touch. The thought of you becoming a zombie, one of the infected and rotting away in his arms was banished the nights he let him indulge in the fantasy. A world where his leaving hadn't damned you, where his touch still meant promises for the future, not a death sentence.

For a full moment it would all feel warm and vivid and real, as if you had come down from your heavenly seat just to bless him for another moment. In that small corner of his heart, the rot couldn't touch you. You beamed up at him as radiant as the day he left you, a smile forever etched into his mind.

When he opened his eyes next you were gone, and he was back to sitting in the car preparing his assault on Miranda. There was a weak voice in the back of his head telling him that you were still waiting back home and all he had to do was finish this mission. He kept it alive, even through the crackle of the radio as his team patched in; already in position. He crushed out his cigarette, reloading his gun by muscle memory. As he exited the car he cast one look up at the bleak sky before patting the smooth, RPD police badge tucked into the lining of his vest, right over his heart.

"happy anniversary babe." he murmured softly, and he knew somewhere, someplace, you were smiling on the other end.

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futureplayboibunnie · 2 years ago

Text

Spiderman Kiss

Miguel O’Hara x fem! Black Cat! reader

part 2 (18+)

it took me so damn long to write this but here we are. a few of y’all wanted a part two with some steamy times so i shall provide (this shit is so long i’m sorryyyy) this man makes it so easy to write angsty smut i swear.

warnings: dirtytalk, pnv, angsty fluffy yet flirtatious idek anymore, finger sucking. jusy filth all together (may god forgive my soul)

You left Miguel. You left him shattered. You left him wanting more. The kiss was still lingering on his lips.

The rain dripped through his hair, the clouds rumbling above him and darkening with every second that passed after you left him. Miguel thought he looked like an idiot dangling upside down watching an empty space that once carried your perfect frame. He was afraid your scent would fade with his memory, he couldn't move- he was stiff with need, sadness, and angst. He was scattered and he was sure the furrow of his brows expressed that tenfold.

Miguel didn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do with you.

So many questions melded into his head- he wasn't sure if he wanted to follow his brain or his dick. But his gut was telling him to not let you leave right now. There was nothing he could do though. Miguel had to tamper his own desires down, he had to put his other spiders first. He had to put the damn multiverse first. God, he gave up too much to quit now but a part of him wanted to relieve that pressure...he wanted to relieve that pressure with you.

Miguel groaned as he dragged himself out of his head and walked up the side of the building he was on, swinging from building to building taking in the dark horizon as if to reflect his mood, the rain becoming heavier on his back, beating at his mind like a punching bag. Miguel used this time swinging to contemplate what he wanted, it was simple: he wanted you...but he had other responsibilities. The thunder and lightning rocked above him, souring his mood. All he could think about was how stupid he was, falling for someone he couldn't have, someone he shouldn't want. That bleeding heart of his was going to get him killed.

You arrived at your apartment before the rain got too heavy and you couldn't conceal the side smile that was painted all over your face- like you were laughing at an inside joke only you knew. Your kiss with Miguel was still tingling on top of your lips and a blush stained your face ever since. It really went against everything you stood for - wanting the good guy. Well, he wasn't known for being that good...but far too much of a goody-two-shoes for you.

Your apartment was gloomy, a blue hue seeped through the windows as you sighed into the cold empty space. You knew if Miguel was here he would obliterate anything in his path, you swallowed hard at the thought. That dull ache crawled back into your lower stomach and the hairs on your neck stood to attention just thinking about him. Jesus. You threw your umbrella into a dark corner before unbuttoning your trenchcoat and throwing it on the back of the couch. Your boots clacked against the hardwood floor as you went to the kitchen to fix yourself a stiff drink- you needed it tonight so you would forget fucking yourself lazily with only Miguel on your mind, you were hoping it would soften the blow of how pathetic you had become over one kiss with a man you were sure would choose the multiverse over you.

Miguel was at your apartment, hanging outside of your window to see if you were there and you just disappeared to the kitchen. He shimmied your window open quietly and crawled inside, slightly surprised that he fit. He stood up and the first thing his eyes caught onto was the mass amount of stolen paintings you were probably pawning off. Oh, bad girl. Very bad indeed. His eyes were fixed on the doorframe, waiting for you to emerge.

You ruffled your hair, walking out to sprawl on your couch and drink the kiss away even though it was already seared to the forefront of your mind. Looking up, your pulse skyrocketed and a gasp fell sharply from your throat. You dropped your damn drink on your floor. Miguel was happy with the response it was apparent with the smirk that painted his face.

‘’What the fuck?’’ You breathed, clutching at your heart to calm your raising chest. It wasn't working. You weren't sure if it was the fact that he scared you half to death or it was that he was here right now when you were about to strip naked and moan all the feelings away. ‘’Why do all Spider-people hate using fucking doors?’’ You questioned brashly as your foot swiped away at the broken shards of glass that adorned your floor, you'll deal with it later. He was your main focus now. It was like you manifested him.

‘’I didn't scare you, did I?’’He boasted and it made you want to kick his stupidly perfect teeth in, rip out his fangs, put them in a frame, and hang it on your wall. He had this smug look on his face and it was like he was reveling in your reaction.

"You didn't.’’ You lamented hard-eyed scowl and all. You stalked up to him like a smiling assassin looking as hungry as ever, a plan obviously forming in your head but he couldn't see through it. Inches were separating you and he had to tamper down the urge to just grab you. 'I wasn't expecting you back so soon.’’ You exhorted, lithe tongue wetting your lips- reaching for the inside joke. Miguel didn't respond, he was too fucking enthralled by your sheer presence to say anything meaningful. Suddenly, your palm went to his chest and pushed down aggressively hard. ‘’Sit.’’ You ordered endearingly, a sugar coating to the venom you were hiding as your eyes went doe. His eyes daren't waver from yours, they were wide and needy...something you never would've associated with Miguel O'Hara. You sat him down on your couch. ‘’I'll be right back.’’

A plan resided within you, you were going to do what you've always seemed to do with him: toy with him, play with him like you would with a cat and laser pen. It was one of the only constants you had with him. You sauntered and disappeared your way to the kitchen and a wicked idea started to form in your head- the more you thought about it, the more insane it was. But you didn't care. Every second you spent with him was just another semblance of your rationality withering away. You wondered if he affected all women like this- on the brink of insanity. The idea of him with another woman made you wince slightly. Instinctively, you kicked off your boots and shimmied out of your dress, also discarding the underwear and bra that covered you. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed another glass and poured out some whiskey for him like a doting housewife.

Miguel's fingers dug into his thighs, his patience wearing thin as the uncertainty and hunger weren't reaching a healthy equilibrium. He didn't like to be kept waiting. He resented it, his tapping foot and hard face were a clear reflection of that. He raked an exasperated hand through his hair and then he heard soft footsteps behind him. Finally. A flash of skin pierced his peripheral...and his mouth popped open, gaping a hole into your face as he drank you in like a thirsting animal. You were naked in front of him, wearing nothing but an innocent smile for a scene so obscenely filthy. You extended your hand to offer him the drink, acting so obviously coy.

‘’Thirsty?’’

Miguel's eyes were glued to yours, his mind was bugged with white noise and static as you stood there so innocently. Oh, you filthy bitch. You fucking liar. It was like time was frozen as he grabbed the glass from your hand. Miguel suddenly stood up, one massive hand grabbed your waist making you stumble back a few steps and the other crushed the glass with the might of his palm, he was surprised that you didn't even flinch but he was adamant about not showing it. You didn't deserve the privilege after toying with him like this: he was fiending for you. Miguel's grip on your waist was piercing and firm, lolling your head back to look into his eyes was a brutal mistake, they were aglow with rage and want that was slightly terrifying but also oddly thrilling at the same time, the sensation clawed at your throat and you were absorbing every second of it.

‘’Now what's all this?’’ He chuckled menacingly, it was like he was assessing you and the sly smile wired on his face was a large indicator of his greed. A clawed finger went to stroke your face. ‘’Hm?’’

‘’I got tired of waiting on you.’’ Surprising yourself with your own ability to breathe when he's touching you like this.

"I can see why that must be... frustrating...for you.’’ His gaze lowered and raked down your naked body, eating you with his eyes like he was a dog starved. “I can taste how wet you are.” Miguel mumbled as his wandering hands traced their way down your body, leaving a pattern of goosebumps in his wake until he reached your aching heat. '”You want me to make it better?” His fingers teased your entrance, waiting for verbal confirmation of how you wanted him to fuck you.

“I don't just want you...Miguel, I need you. I thought you'd know that by now.” You hoped your desperation would make him get the fucking hint. Now he was acting all patient and stretching it out, you just wanted him to play with you. Instead, he retracted his fingers. You shuddered as his warmth left you, the flames of desire were now roaring but all you could give him was a cold look at his callousness.

“Oh, you need me? Que maravilla... You're spoiling me.” He whispered in your ear then pulled back from you.

You gripped onto his suit and pulled him back into you, desperate eyes searching his. “Now give me what I want.” You sounded way more needy than he anticipated and he loved it. “Please.”

Miguel chuckled lowly, his large hand gripping your cheeks to make you pout and he mocked it like you were a whiny kid. “I've always wanted to fuck your face.”

You were too stiff to reply, his fingers dug into your skin and all you could do was moan.

“Would you let me?”

‘’Perhaps you fancy my pure heart, maybe I should feed it to you.’’

‘’Yeah, I'll do that later.’’ His promise was threateningly genuine and it made you gulp. Miguel suddenly grabbed you as if you weighed nothing and threw you over his shoulder, his apathetic palm smacking roughly against your backside as he dragged you to your bedroom, you yelped at his brashness. ‘’Stop squirming baby. Relax for me.’’

Miguel kicked your bedroom door open before you could even give in to his demands. He threw you on the bed, and without a second to lose you sat at the edge of it, you spread your legs wider for him. He grasped your chin so you were directly looking up into his scorching eyes- that look on your face was sinful. Miguel wasn't sure if was a religious man, not after everything that happened to him but if there was a time to believe in God it would be right now. You can't talk or think properly, it was the most ironic thing he's ever witnessed. You were always so...prepared, so intelligent, and challenging, it was interesting to see this side of you. He stood tall between your parted legs and the silence that boomed between you two was crackling through the air, Miguel's face was unamused as his fingers lightly traced your cheek- an odd form of tenderness in comparison to the filthy shit he said to you about 3 minutes ago. It was like it was the mercy before he was about to eat you whole.

‘’Fucking gorgeous.’’ Miguel muttered drunkenly, his darkening gaze surveying you intently as if you were under a microscope. He memorized every detail and frame of your desperate, whiny face. His thumb brushed the soft flesh of your bottom lip, all you could do was blink up at him dumbly. 'Come on...open up for me.' He urged when his fingers teased your lips, you opened your mouth and your tongue welcomed his large fingers, twisting and turning against the skin. A small shiver rippled through his body as you practically drooled over his fingers.

Mine. Was all he could think. Mine. All mine. No one else's. Miguel's heart skipped a little, a spark setting in his chest at the idea.

He was getting more and more impatient the longer you deepthroated his fingers, it was a little harrowing to see his deepest desires turn into a real-life experience. When he kissed you he thought that you wouldn't reciorocate or that you would kill him for even assuming such a preposterous thing, but no. You wanted him. The way he wanted you. If he were a smarter man he would bury the thought of you, he'd let another man want you up close, not from a distance like he does- but he just couldn't. He couldn't let you go and he resented it.

You just gave him a blank look when he retracted his fingers from your mouth, you wondered if his claws would come out when they were in the deep chasms of your throat, you were unsure if he was about to rip your vocal cords out. Miguel's palm instantly pinched at your cheeks again and he full force-bounced you back to lay flat on the bed. He loomed over you, his other hand sliding between your bodies to feel the softness of your skin, a small layer of sweat adding a little sparkle to your already glowing body. Why was he fucking dragging this along? Here you were, naked and wet, ready to be devoured and he insists on taking his sweet time. The multiverse becomes more and more unstable the longer he's with you. The unsettling thought made you frown and Miguel clocked onto it.

“What's with the frown?”

“Too slow, hurry up.” You moaned in his ear. His eyes darted to the contents of your room and he smirked.

“These paintings...they aren't yours, are they?” Miguel cooed at you. “It's cute that you think you're sneaky.”

“You're one to talk, following me around like an obsessed fan. It's cute.” You bit back at him, his teeth unclenched enough for a low moan to slip out. His mouth followed the trail of goosebumps down your neck, your body started to arch as his mouth captured your nipple, and your eyes widened as you felt his fangs dig into you.

“I want to fucking drain myself in you.” Miguel grunted and you quite literally felt the crunching of bones in his jaw. His nose trailed up your chest, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory.

“Take it off and fuck me or I'll find someone else who's-“ A gasp fell from your lips when he wrappled his fist around your hair and yanked it back. He thre your body around on the bed until your head plummeted to the soft pillows.

“I dare you to finish that sentence hermosa.”Miguel's fingers plunged into you, knuckle-deep feeling at you- so warm, so wet. You were dripping around his fingers. “Come on...finish it.” He moved his fingers in a circular motion, his thumb rubbed and pressed at your clit. A wave of jealousy washed over him at your words, the idea of someone else doing what he's doing to you made his eyes glow a dim red.

“'Miguel-“ He rubbed faster and harder.

“Someone else who's better than me? Someone who's...stronger than me? Someone who can...fuck you like this?’’He trusted his fingers harder into you and it made you cry out. ‘’Apologize.’’

“But I'm not sorry.”

In a flash, his hologram suit exposed his bare skin and your eyes widened at his cock slapping against your thigh. Your gaze wandered down and you couldn't conceal your gape, he was rock hard and the tip was sticky. “I'll make you sorry.”

“You're a bastard M-“ He cut you off with a sharp thrust into your warm wet pussy, Miguel was ambitious as always, glaring a hole into that pretty face to see just how well he was fucking you. Your fingers dug into the skin of his back and clawed, you drew an inkling of blood and he groaned at the sensation. The look on your face was priceless. Your moans bounced off of the walls, growing louder and louder with every thrust, he reached a spot within that you didn't know fucking existed. He thought your body was a work of fucking art, a thin sheen of sweat coated your skin, and every dip and curve was sculpted by Greek Gods. Miguel grabbed onto the headboard as his pace was getting more and more violent, his fist clenched white and his claws dug into the wood.

“You always this tight?” He questions breathlessly, Jesus Christ it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. You were sucking him dry. Your face scrunched up cutely as you whined at him, and your hands went to the sheets holding onto dear life. “No, don't clutch the sheets, grab onto me instead.” for once, you actually obeyed. You gripped onto his hair instead and tugged onto it. Miguel grabbed your legs and lifted them onto his broad shoulders, he sucked air into his teeth and his muscles tensed as you squeezed him even harder. “What, no smartass remark hermosa?”

“Oh my God.” You whimpered, and he kissed you passionately to muffle your pretty little sounds, absorbing them onto his tongue. His cock was fucking magic, he stretched you out so well it fucking hurt. The heated curl in your stomach was about to unfurl, the knots were twisting and turning with every brutal kiss and clash of teeth.

“Cum for me. You know you want to.” Miguel boasted like a proud high school jock. The slap of skin echoed around the whole room, he felt your stringy wetness cover him as a raw moan escaped from your lips. Your body arched against the bed as the waves of desire resounded throughout your entire body. You wanted to giggle, you had never come so hard before. It was kind of revolutionary. He fucked you through it, the kisses getting more desperate, passionate, and sloppy as if to mimic his pounding. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it Miguel, please just - fuck.”with those sweet words, you could feel him spurt inside of you, the warm sticky liquid coating your insides. His body tensed with every stroke, completely emptying himself inside of you. Lord, you milked him dry and his groan was an indicator of that. You felt proud of yourself, Miguel O'Hara being breathless was something you never anticipated…well that was before he kissed you and everything went to pure chaos.

You lowered your legs from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, your lips meeting his tenderly. He liked it when you raked your slender fingers through his hair. He sighed before he pulled out of you, his gaze landed upon your pussy and the mess you both made. You chuckled at each other like a couple of teenagers, lightly blushing and doing the devil's tango. Miguel rolled next to you, both of you panting at what you had just experienced. He was so...good...at that.

The soft dim light lit up the room, the window outside casting a pale shadow of the New York skyline outside. You turned your head to Miguel, his angled features looking stoic as ever. It was obvious his mood changed but you didn't know why. Your cheek was buried in the pillow as you laid on your stomach, your hair tumbling down looking sexed out as always and he almost wanted to laugh, he definitely would've if the weight of the multiverse wasn't on his shoulders. Your hand flew to his and ruffled the disheveled tufts and he practically melted into your touch.

“You're a million miles away.” You repeated what you said earlier tonight before he kissed you. Miguel moved closer to you, leaning up on the divinely carved headboard as you lay there playing with his hair. He was agitated but a sliver of sadness warped through him and he didn't like it. His eyes latched onto yours, heady and scorching, his eyebrows twinging in sadness as he stared into your beautiful face- like it was the last time he'd be seeing it. He opened his mouth to speak but instead, he grabbed the hand that was in his hair and brought it to his lips, kissing your soft glowing flesh and tasting your sweet flushed skin.

“Mi amor.” 'He whispered, placing your palm on his face.

“Oh, that's new.” You smiled, and his eyes lingered on the curve of your ass. He had to suppress a shit-eating grin, his hand landed and stroked the skin of your thighs. “Am I still 'mi amor' even when I've been a bad girl?” You blinked up at him and then stared at all the stolen artwork and sculptures littering your room and adorning every wall, he just squinted your eyes in a judgemental manner at your question, he keep transitioning in and out of silence. It was obvious something was bothering him.

“What is it, Miguel?”

After a palpable silence, he finally opened his mouth, his gaze downcast as if he didn't want to look at you made you all the more confused. “It hurts me. How much I want you...I don't want to be tragically wounded and damaged by demons I can't escape... I just want to be with you.” He began unraveling what was eating at him, baring apart his battered soul and heavy mind, the expression your face made was one of...sorrow. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I can’t but I’m sure you’ve firgured that out by now.”

Miguel's confession echoed through your very soul and tolled at your brain, your heart on the other hand was thumping in your chest and beating at your fingertips. You didn't know what to do or say. You gripped his chin so he could face you, his hold on your thighs becoming stronger.

“You're fighting yourself and you're not even fighting fair. God you have no idea, do you?”

“I don't know what to do.” He replied back softly and it broke your heart seeing him so vulnerable with you, his eyes were quaking in fear. To hear him talk so lowly of himself made guilt pang at your heartstrings, if only he knew what good he's done.

“Have you got any idea how much good you've done? Everything you've done for spiders in every single world?” You urged him to see reason, he was always so damn rational. Why wasn't he seeing it? “Being Spiderman is a sacrifice, you know this. If that means losing sometimes...you must let it pass unhindered. But that doesn’t change how much I want you. ”

“No.” Miguel replied curtly, he knew you were right but he just couldn’t handle the idea of losing you right now. He just grabbed your face and kissed you, toppling you onto his lap to forget all about it and just melt into your warm embrace.

#miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara angst #spiderman across the verse #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara

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whalesforhands · 2 years ago

Text

chew your regret (geto x reader x gojo) pt.3

previous masterlist next

warnings: no fluff here folks, just suffering. gore mentions.

“Suguru?” The man let out a laugh, throwing his head back as the sun shone down on him. “He’s my best friend. My one and only.” A boisterous exclamation.

“Ah, Satoru?” He smiled, gentle, soft and affectionate. The moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow. “In this world, there is definitely no other like him.” A serene confirmation.

“After all, we’re the strongest.”

There was a ‘we’, a ‘they’. In those conversations you’ve had, there was no ‘you’.

Maybe there never was.

No matter how you view it, Satoru and Suguru were made for each other. They loved the other in a way only they could ever understand, a love so deep it transcends meaning.

How could you ever have thought you’d be able to fit in a puzzle that never required you?

You should never have coveted what was never yours to have.

You feel the marks on your neck sear, the aftermath of your little session with the two boys. They glowed an angry red, the beginnings of the hickeys starting to mar your nape as you wince slightly at the soreness.

You floated around in a domain, eyes blank and empty as you thought and thought and thought, mind racing back to the times of your first significant memories of the duo.

Your breaths uneven as you heaved, the heavy stench of blood filling your nostrils as you shook. Your knees, scraped. Your leg having had had an arrow pierced, embedded into your flesh. You’re in pain.

It was a Grade 1 curse. What was supposed to be a straightforward, simple exorcism of the appearance of a few Grade 3 curses, your second ever solo mission, had soon taken a sharp turn.

You screamed as you felt the curse’s hands snap your arm, your staff laying on the ground, broken and useless much like your hand.

You heard the damned thing snicker, laugh at your pain as you struggled to maintain your vision. To stay awake. Stay alive. You can’t die. Not when you saw the young girl cowering behind the pillar you had hidden her in.

“Hehehe! You sorcerers are a joke!” It taunted, it’s hand gripping painfully tight around your torso, making you wince as you felt one of your ribs give.

“Oh? Not going to scream again? Perhaps I should break something else?” It squeezed tighter, it’s disgusting tentacles wrapping around you as it’s jaw began to unhinge, revealing a red, slime covered mouth, rows of yellowed, misshapen teeth and a sliced tongue. You felt bile and blood rise in your throat, desperate to fight off the pain. Desperate to fight back. You can’t be eaten here. Your vision was white hot, your broken arm feeling limp and useless at your side.

You heard a cackle.

Tchak! “Let the lady go, you ugly monster!” A small rock was thrown at the monstrous curse’s head.

No. No no no no nonnonono You felt yourself be thrown into a concrete wall, your back taking the brunt of it as you clawed at the wall with your good hand for support.

Stand up. Stand up stand up stand up.

“And what do we have here?” You heard the curse hum, it’s slimy appendages moving further and further from you. Towards the innocent civilian you were protecting.

Shit. You can’t see. The blood was rushing to your head. Your heart pounding at a mile per minute.

Your vision is gone.

You heard more screams. Your legs burned as you forced yourself up. Your eyes closed as you channeled your cursed energy.

Get the focus off the girl. You may not be able to physically see the curse with your current state, but you sure as hell can sense it.

You focus. Focus and focused and focused, a blast of your pure cursed energy surrounding itself around the girl, who was running for her life towards you as she screamed and begged for help.

You want to keep her safe. You promised, afterall.

Your mind steeled, your cursed technique activating as it formed a barrier around her just in time as the curse reared one of its ugly tendrils, forming a spike at the end as it readied to plunge through the civilian’s skull.

The tendril bounced back, burnt to a crisp by your cursed energy as the protective barrier burned, shined bright within the dark compounds of the abandoned car park.

The curse giggled. “You think that measly shield is going to stop ME?” It clawed and clawed at the barrier, the little girl curling into a ball in on herself as she cried and begged for it to be over.

The curse was futile in its attempts. You can’t break a promise. You steadied your breathing, your hair a mess and blood trailing from your face as you shakily held your broken staff in your good hand, your good elbow bracing yourself against the wall for support.

“Come…” You heaved. “Get me, you ugly bitch.”

It reared its grotesque head towards you.

“I should’ve finished you off first, sorcerer!” It broke into a run towards you, screaming agonized threats. “You’re going to wish you died just now!”

You hope your shield holds. This is your end. You can’t fight anymore. The last remaining remnants of your cursed energy flicker uselessly on your staff, dying out as you prepared for death to take you.

You failed. Failed to accomplish your mission. Failed. Failed failed failed failed failed

“Oops.” A strong wind blows in your face, the curse incinerated with one strong blast, with no milliseconds left for it to even think about its final words. “Suguru would’ve called that overkill.”

Gojo Satoru has made his entrance.

You never felt such relief, your knees collapsing where they stood as the chosen one stepped before you.

He took one look at the young civilian girl that had fainted from overwhelming fear, your cursed energy still glowing bright around her, before turning his judgmental gaze towards you.

“That was weak.” You know. “That all it took for you to get in this state?” You tried.

You couldn’t even answer him, your body burning in pain as you struggled to stay alive.

“Gotta hand it to ya, though.” You felt his presence near you, hearing him squat down to be eye level with you, his bones creaking slightly. “Pretty stupidly brave of you to sacrifice your last pitiful reserves of cursed energy on ‘er. Respect.”

You think you felt your heart throb at the compliment, before you passed out.

—

You sat within the confines of your hospital room, aimlessly staring out the window. The bandages encased almost your entire body, your cast heavy as you looked into the outside world with one eye.

(The other was tucked away behind an eyepatch to speed up recovery. Apparently, using reverse cursed technique on you in your sensitive state would cause you to potentially implode. Gonna have to wait a while before you could receive that treatment.)

You smile down at the signature Gojo had left on your cast, a crude drawing of what was meant to be him winking and sticking his tongue out.

(“You don’t have any other friends anyway. I can sign it as big as I like!”)

Beside it, was Shoko’s sign. A small message to you to recover quicker, cause being left to the two menaces was driving her insane, and she missed you so much.

(“I missed you.” She whined out, plopping her head onto your lap as you sat upright on the propped up pillow. Her short auburn hair obscured her eyes as she stared up at you, a pout on her pretty lips.)

“Please excuse me.” The hinges of the door squeaking slightly as they were opened.

Suguru was finally here. You’d didn’t think he cared enough about you to come.

“Ah, Geto-san.” You tried to bow in greeting, wincing when you were only able to bend forward awkwardly due to the pain and stiffness of the bandages as you met his eyes. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“It’s nothing.” Suguru bowed back politely, a small bag of what he had seen you snack on during breaks in his hand.

(They were bought at the supermarket nearby after he decided it was rude to visit a hospitalized classmate without something. He’s better than Gojo.)

“I’ve come with some gifts.”

—

Suguru sat upon a chair at the side of your bed, lazily leaned back on the chair as a leg crossed over the other, hearing you fumbling with the plastic bag with your one good hand.

He broke the silence.

“Satoru told me about your mission.” He pauses, before smiling. “He’s been non-stop whining about having to fill in that report in place of you.”

(Gojo would’ve never written that report if it wasn’t for you.)

You let out a polite laugh. “I suppose I should thank him accordingly after I’m discharged, then.”

Suguru stays silent, watching, observing you.

“Were you actually going to let yourself die, trying to save that little girl?”

You stay silent, your one eye cast down towards the scratchy sheets of your bed. You don’t hesitate with your reply.

“I think protecting those who can’t protect themselves is a noble thing.”

“Even at the expense of your own life?” He cocked a curious brow.

You smiled. Genuine, soft and melancholic.

“Even then.” You direct your gaze towards him, looking him straight in the eye. “If not us, who else?”

Geto smiled. “You’re pretty strong, huh?”

——

You drift endlessly in the confines of your cursed space. You don’t think you could even forget them if you tried.

You think you’d curse yourself to remember them even in your death.

If- If all they wanted was your physical being… That’s okay, right?

You’re okay with that. Right? It’s all you can offer the two who had everything. The two who your heart hopelessly longed for.

Fate has cursed you to love.

And you’re going to accept it, wholeheartedly and in all its cruelty. You’re going to take it, cling onto the hope that they could ever love you, take and love and love and love, then die. No matter the pain.

That was just your fate, right?

masterlist next

Notes:

Gojo thinks it’s amazing that you push on through again and again, despite your weak self. Putting others before yourself is something he isn’t used to seeing, and he’s so intrigued by your weird kindness. You never stop smiling either.

Geto thinks your strength is admirable. You were clearly weak and struggling to nurture your cursed technique, you should’ve given up long ago. You don’t possess any talent. But you didn’t give up at all. Cool.

The hospital was the first time you had ever properly met eyes with Geto. He didn’t expect your one good eye to be so sparkly and full of life. You looked cute.

Your cursed technique is pretty simple. It’s more defensive than anything. A technique that allows you to make barriers, walls and transport you to void of empty space. The void is not your domain. Only you can get in and out of it.

Unfortunately for you, you crushed on Gojo first.

#geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #getou suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #dyf au

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scuttlingcrab · 6 months ago

Text

A Hellish Dealer

Inspired by the Merchant Raphael that could've been, but now only exists in our imaginations. RIP. Gone but not forgotten. Thank you @firlionemoontav for the prompt idea and letting me know that we were robbed of Merchant Raphael!

Summary: Raphael isn't only a saviour, but a proficient salesman. After coming to Tav’s rescue, again, he offers the little mouse an item, straight from his Devilish line of goods, that he hopes will aid her in the fights ahead.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via devils-little-mouse)

Tav gasped for air, clutching at her chest. Her temples pulsed, her skull vibrating along with each thumping heartbeat. Her throat burned as she inhaled, like she had swallowed a bucket full of coal. It made her want to vomit, a cold sweat dripping from her forehead. Tav shivered, struggling to sit up. She eventually found the strength to hug her knees in a sad attempt to warm herself.

Without warning, memories flashed before her eyes. Just moments ago, she had been falling, her body plunging into something sharp. Pain jetted through her chest, a searing sensation stemming from the pits of her soul. Her companions' screams echoed in the recesses of her mind, their pleas for help, cries of agony had blended into one… until there was only quiet, her entire world consumed by nothing but shadows.

Tav blinked, her eyes caked with dirt. She rubbed away the grime, her mind scrambling, attempting to put the millions of shattered pieces of this reality back together. She loosened the laces of her tunic, hoping that would give her some more room to breathe. Her hands stopped abruptly, running over a massive tear in the middle of her chest. She looked down, eyes widening at the discovery that her entire tunic was covered in dried blood. She instantly reached for her back, feeling an identical rip between her shoulder blades.

Tav’s chest tightened, spots of black dotting across her vision.

Breathe, Tav. Breathe.

She felt the floor with her fingertips. Stones. It was damp, slippery.

She’s still here. Breathe. That’s it.

She turned her head, attempting to look around, to search for her companions… but her vision was hazy, the specks of black refusing to leave her alone.

Tav’s nose itched and she suppressed a cough, tears forming from the corner of her eyes as the scent of sulphur suddenly assaulted her senses.

A large black shadow came into view, looming above her ominously. She blinked again and the area around her slowly came into focus, the shapeless being forming a clearer silhouette… and then a face. Their features morphed into something familiar. Big dark eyes stared down at her, the irises briefly flickering orange, like tiny flames. They were tall, their hair short and brown…

Wait a damned second.

“Raphael?” Tav whispered, confusion contorting her face.

Raphael smiled wide, bearing his teeth. He wore the same shit eating grin from when they first met on that bridge, when this entire fiasco began.

“It seems you’re not very perceptive after all, despite my countless warnings.”

“Your… W-what?” Tav coughed, blood splattering on her palms. She immediately wiped it away on her trousers, growing more disgusted with herself.

“The infernal markings, scattered throughout this Mausoleum. So simple I had assumed even a half-wit such as yourself could’ve spotted them.”

Tav swallowed, another lump forming in her throat. Now that Raphael mentioned it, there were a bunch of weird symbols littered throughout the doorways of that stupid fucking Mausoleum, and a few of those scribbles suspiciously resembled arrows. She had shrugged them off, thinking it was some kind of joke or just someone’s sad attempt at artwork. Not actual warning signs from the Devil himself… pointing in the right bloody direction this entire time. They had been lost for hours, going back and forth one twisted hallway after another.

Well, Karlach was right… and Tav was a fucking idiot.

Tav stood abruptly, hoping to cover up her festering embarrassment. As soon as she rose, the room rotated, faster and faster like she was caught in the middle of a windstorm. The floor came up to meet her in a blur and she shut her eyes, bracing herself for another explosive impact. She instead felt a sharp tug on her arm as her body was yanked to one side, promptly followed by a pleasant embrace. Tav leaned into the hold, enjoying the stillness and melting against the comforting heat radiating from…

She opened her eyes, only to find herself snuggled in Raphael’s arms, her head resting against his chest. She held her breath as she glanced up at him. He winked in response and Tav blushed, her cheeks catching fire almost immediately. That damned face, that damned Devil… she never thought his smile could get any more condescending.

Tav ripped herself away from Raphael, wobbling as she tried to keep herself upright without his support, but it only got worse.

“Oh Gods, I’m going to be sic–”

The sound of a snap ricocheted throughout the chamber walls, settling her stomach and the spinning room simultaneously.

“The little mouse, ever so hasty to escape the hands that saved it. You nearly soiled my favourite pair of boots. I will have you know, these are quite expensive.”

Tav held her hands out wide to keep her balance, shaking away any lingering bouts of nausea.

“My f-friends… what have you don…”

“Oh, they aren’t going anywhere. Besides, I’d like a few more minutes alone with you.” Raphael paused, his eyes travelling up Tav’s body as if he was about to devour her for supper. “And please wipe that bewildered look off your face. Yes, that boney little cretin that lingers at your camp isn’t the only one who can bring mortals back from the dead. Now sit still, else you’ll ruin my handiwork.”

There was another snap and Tav was transported away from the Mausoleum in a rush of sparks that tickled her skin. She materialised on a spacious balcony, her body gently fitting into a plush leather chair. The material stuck to her exposed skin like glue as she fidgeted. Tav inhaled sharply at the view, blood-red skies and an otherwise barren wasteland overtaking her vision. The air was thicker here, weighing on her shoulders like a heavy piece of armour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Tav whispered, just as a dark Hellish cloud appeared on the horizon, growing more ferocious as it crept closer.

Raphael sat in front of her, legs crossed and cradling a silver goblet. His eyes glimmered against the fiery skies of Avernus as he continued to gaze at her. Out of fondness or hunger? Tav had no fucking clue anymore.

A small table was placed between them, lined with a tray of refreshments.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I’d like to offer you some commodities for the fight ahead.”

“Hold on. Since when are you , the almighty Raphael, scary Devil-man who threatens foolish mortals, a vendor?” Tav leaned back, laughing hysterically. She watched as Raphael’s smile faded, a menacing scowl replacing any hint of amusement that had previously occupied his face. “Gods, I must’ve really, I mean really, hit my head back there.”

Raphael’s neck twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he remained calm, taking a sip from the goblet.

“There is a whole world of services you’ve yet to discover that only I can provide. I just so happen to have an entire line of goods that are simply too Devilish to keep all to myself.”

“Do you think I have any bloody gold left? I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be done with this never-ending bullshit! As if this damned tadpole wasn’t enough, you have to be creeping and crawling around every corner! I’ve ju–”

Raphael leapt towards Tav, erupting into his cambion form. Tav cried out in shock as the table burst into flames, the bottles of wine and various jars of food exploding. She winced, covering her face to protect herself from the flying shards of glass. Raphael crushed the goblet in his hand like it was nothing but cheap, flimsy material. Wine oozed from his fist like blood, the liquid sizzling as it touched his skin.

He leaned closer to Tav, pointing a claw at her face.

“I would hold that wretched, ungrateful tongue if I were you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be nothing but a sack of flesh rotting on the shores of the Chionthar.”

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Tav muttered, her words barely audible against the thunder from the approaching storm.

“I cannot hear your pitiful squeaks, little mouse.”

“I’m sorry.” Tav said again, her voice shaking. “I-I w…”

She hid her face in her hands before Raphael could see her weep. She felt humiliated. Actually worse, like she was a spoiled child having a temper tantrum. Ungrateful.

Tav choked on her tears, her body trembling against each emotional wave that crashed against her, destroying what was left of her self-control. The sadness was suffocating, her exhaustion crippling. She was just so tired. Of everything. Everyone. Fed up with being bent and moulded like she was merely a piece of metal in a forge. It wasn’t only Raphael. No . But her companions, pulling her in twelve different directions all at once, each with their own personal vendettas. And that tadpole, swimming around her brain, digging deeper and deeper into her subconscious. The sleepless nights, tossing and turning from the voices in her head.

It was too much.

“Why did you bring me back?” Tav muttered eventually.

There was a brief pause as thunder cracked through the air, a hot gust of wind blowing across her hands.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Raphael replied, softly.

“I hope you make it quick then. So the next time I fall you can just leave me to die in peace.”

“Yes…” Raphael began, delicately peeling Tav’s fingers away from her face, lowering her shield. He placed his own hand on her cheek, the warmth from his palm drying the tears that fell. He held his hand there for what felt like an eternity, and in truth, Tav didn’t want him to let go. She tried to look away, but she was drawn into his gaze; those dark, deceitful eyes, slowly losing herself the more she stared into that welcoming abyss.

“I think I’m satisfied.” Raphael continued, releasing Tav from his hold. “Consider that my first and only warning. Next time I won’t be so… generous.”

Raphael returned to his seat and Tav let out a sigh, pressing her fingers to her cheek where the remains of his touch still lingered.

He clapped his hands twice and a massive wooden wardrobe appeared behind him. He twirled his wrist, opening the double doors and showcasing an endless expanse of weapons, armour, and potions. He swiped his hand and the thousands of artefacts flew past him at a rapid speed. He hummed thoughtfully until he raised an index finger and stopped the movement, staring at a large metallic staff in front of him. It floated patiently, the metal was smooth and twisted, almost like silver vines.

“That’ll do nicely…”

Raphael moved his index finger and the staff flew out of the wardrobe, hovering before Tav.

“Feast your eyes on this . It can detect creatures who might not want to be found, simply activate the barrier with an intermediate incantation and nothing can hide within its boundaries. I think it suits your strengths just enough to get this next job done.”

The staff bounced in the air as it twirled, beckoning Tav to touch it. She reached towards the staff, but Raphael yanked it away with the flick of his wrist.

“Tut, tut. I don’t just hand things out for free, not even to my most treasured customers. I can give you a discount, however.”

Tav opened her mouth in protest but Raphael raised his hand dramatically to silence her.

“Those soul coins, I can hear them screaming from your person. A far more satisfactory payment for my services. I don’t stoop so low as to accept gold .” Raphael practically shuddered as the words left his lips.

Tav hesitated, her hand resting above her trousers.

“Come now, Karlach doesn’t need them. If you give her any more, she’ll likely explode before you reach Baldur’s Gate.”

“How did you… riiight .” Tav muttered, nodding to herself. “You’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, yes, yes, I know.”

“Ah, has that tadpole riddled brain finally caught up?”

“Fine.”

Tav unclipped a leather pouch from her belt, digging her fingers inside it. She removed a soul coin and held it up to Raphael.

“And for an additional soul coin I can throw in a few revivify scrolls, 4 for the price of 1. Seeing as you could barely walk the halls of the Mausoleum without falling into a trap meant for the undead. I simply don’t have enough time on my agenda to wait for you buffoons to drop like flies again. Which will undoubtedly happen, I can assure you. I might even bet you on it.”

Tav bit the side of her mouth, trying to keep herself from saying anything stupid to rile his temper a second time. She shook her head as she pulled another soul coin from the pouch. She placed both coins in her palm, extending it towards Raphael. He giddily accepted, snatching the Hellish currency in one showy movement.

“Ta.”

Raphael inspected each soul coin carefully, rubbing his thumb over the jagged designs. He brought them to his ear, closing his eyes as he listened to music that Tav could not hear. He sighed with pleasure, nodding along to a silent melody.

“Oh, how delicious. There is nothing that brings me more delight than the screams of doomed mortals. One of life’s simple pleasures.”

Raphael bounced the soul coins between his fingers, like he was trying to impress Tav with an amateur magic trick, until they vanished in a puff of smoke. The goods Tav purchased flew into her hands, nearly causing her to topple over in the chair.

“Well then, thank you for your business. I’ll be sure to keep my fingers crossed you can survive the next few hours. You know what’s at stake. Until we meet again.”

Before Tav could even utter her thanks, Raphael stood from his chair, gifting her with one of his flourishing bows. Her body was enveloped in another burst of sparks and just like that, she was swiftly returned to the Mausoleum. She unexpectedly found herself yearning for the stifling air of Avernus, her thoughts rushing back to Raphael.

Tav stood in the same chamber, but she was no longer alone. Her companions were lying at her feet, just like the Devil had promised, groaning as they regained consciousness.

“Gods, my head. That nearly ended us all…” Astarion whispered, jumping to his feet.

“Yeah, what a fucking close call. Good job getting us out of that one, Tav,” Karlach added. She remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“It would have been an undignified death.” Minthara said, rising to her knees as she released a healing spell. “And worst of all, my vengeance would have remained unquenched.”

Karlach laughed, using her elbows to lift herself up.

“We’ll get that bastard Thorm soon enough, Minthara.”

Minthara huffed and the companions continued the idle chatter, their voices slowly fading from Tav’s focus.

Tav looked down at the metal staff in her hands, her grip tightening around it.

Right, she better not fuck this up. For all of their sakes.

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael x tav

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