#none of you will ever understand how much i lost when they took me from here

[pictureday2005]

DONT REPOST THIS thanks

[ichatake]

Uchihas reacting to “I hate you”s

Request are open! Request rules here!

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Obito Uchiha, Madara Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Shisui Uchiha

Warning: slight angst, nothing else.

Obito Uchiha (Villain)

✧ “I hate you,” he stood there, his expression unwavering as your voice seethed with anger. Your voice could cut through thick glass as you shouted at him, but he felt nothing whatsoever. Even as your eyes bore into him, filled with a hatred so intense it could burn a hole through his soul, it wasn’t directed towards him. No, not ever. Yet despite the venom in your words, he didn’t flinch. Instead he listened intently, his expression indifferent. “That’s okay,” he responded, his voice devoid of any apparent emotion. In any other scenario, he would’ve crumpled under the weight of your vitriol, weeping and pleading for an explanation as to why you might hate him. But not now, because he already knew why.

✧ He knew how you mourned him for years, believing him dead and gone, only to find out the hard way the reality. He knew you visited his grave, and wished that you were in his position. He knew that your trust—your perspective of reality had been shattered the very moment his mask fell from his face. With a heavy heart, he continued “I would too,” his gaze never left yours, watching as tears streamed down your reddened cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you this close, yet you looked young and pretty. The prettiest he’s ever seen you, even with tears glistening on your pretty face.

✧ “I hate you so much,” your voice cracked with pain and resentment as you spoke to him. Your Obito. The revelation that he was still alive, but causing so much pain and suffering shattered your world, leaving you emotionally fractured. “Why? Why do all of this? Why hurt so many?” You ask, searching his face for remorse but finding none, “Because this world is broken,” he answers steadily, his voice awfully gentle to you. “You have nothing in this reality,” his arms open, showing you the distress and chaos that is currently occurring around you. He wanted you to see how your comrades laid lifeless—to make you understand that you lost your friends, your family, your ‘happy ending’. “ Let this happen, and you will be forever happy,” he pauses briefly, searching for the right words to say. He chose his words carefully, locking eyes with you, “With me. With a better version of me. One that will keep you happy for the rest of your life,” Despite your heart-wrenching cries, he did nothing to stop this war. As you wept before him, he knew your pain would be temporary. He knew that once his plan took action—the infinite Tsukuyomi—you would find happiness. Even if you hate him now, he reassured himself, you wouldn’t think the same after his plan was completed.

Obito Uchiha (Shinobi)

✧ Obito, a strong and beloved jonin from the Leaf village, stood there, his chest tightening at the words that just came out of your mouth. His expression shifted as his mind struggled to comprehend what you had said. Suddenly, without a second thought, his words slipped through his lips as he tried to make sense of what you told him, “What… did you say?” he asked carefully, his eyes frantically darting over your face as if searching for an answer. You met his gaze, repeating your words with unwavering conviction, “I said, I hate you,”

✧ As you repeat yourself, Obito’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his throat constricting as it became harder to breathe. He could handle any other response, any other thing you could have said, but hearing your harsh words was almost too much for him. “Why? What did I do? I don’t understand,” he manages to ask in desperation, trying his best to move closer to you. His heart clenched and turned inside his chest, and he boiled with fear. He loves you! He loves you to the moon and back! Why would you say that you hate him when he eats, sleeps, and breathes for you? You were his everything, so how could you hate him when he loved you so dearly?

✧ “Because you never notice how much I try for you. You’re always looking for Rin’s approval, and what about me? I’m left in the dark with nothing. I’m done with you. I’m done with trying to make you realize I’ve been in love with you for years,” you pour your heart out to him, desperate and hurt, and that’s when he realizes what this was about. Though his heart slightly fluttered at your revelation, he still felt awful for the way you were feeling all this time. The tingling sensation in the back of his mind kept bothering him as he examined every inch of your expression. “That’s… why?” He asks with a drop of his shoulder, sighing in pure relief at your confession, which only fueled the burning anger inside you. “I thought it was for something else I might’ve done… (Y/N), I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m in love with you,” his confession caught you in surprise, his voice revealing his true feelings with no hesitation. What once was nervousness and anxiety had now been replaced with determination as he yearned to seek for a solution. It was true, he was deeply in love with you, but people still thought he had something for Rin when he didn’t. However, he did hide the fact that he liked you out of fear of another rejection. With Rin, he handled it well, but with you? He wouldn’t be able to take it. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel horrible. I’m sorry I never noticed, and I’m sorry I hid it from you for so long. I love you, over anything there is in this world. The only thing I want is you, always and forever you,”

Madara Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” your words felt like a slap to the face, making Madara turn around to face you swiftly. Although his face was deemed expressionless, his body tensed and tightened the more he processed your words. He had obviously been taken aback by your audacity to say such things, but he tried his best to hide his discomfort. With arms crossed over his chest, he scoffed and parted his lips, ready to give you a piece of his mind. “Get over it, woman,” he snarls at you with authority, and slight annoyance. You, his wife, should never say that to him. He’s given you everything; a home, a family, and more importantly, love. “You are acting like a child over something that should have never pestered you in the first place,” although your words had not hit him hard when you first spat them, they started to annoy him the more they set in, “If you hate me, why even decide to say yes when I proposed? If you are going to bother me with such nonsense, I will not bother with you,”

✧ His words were meant to hurt you as much as you hurt him, and when he notices the pain in your eyes, he’s satisfied… until he’s not. Until that annoying tingling feeling lingers under his skin as he watches your eyes brim with tears. The tingling feeling that pulled on the tendons of his heart any time you cried was crawling under every inch of his body. “Oh please, do not start with the tears,” he groaned in annoyance, but the salty tears were already streaming down your puffy cheeks. Despite this, he didn’t move an inch to comfort you, but watched you as you cried for a couple of minutes until he released an exasperated sigh. “Why? Why do you care so much for those people when all they have done is hurt you?” He asks with irritation, referring to your clan members who’ve hurt you in the past. He has said something out of line, and you argued with him about it, which ended you two up here.

✧ “Because we should be better people than them. Violence should never be the answer,” you sniffle with clenched fist, “But that is something you seem to never stop thinking about,” you admit, trying to hold in your tears. You didn’t want to keep crying like this in front of him. You wanted to be strong, “And if you think I am such a burden, then why keep this ring on my finger—,” you were surprised when his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from taking off the ring he had gifted you the night he proposed, “Because I know who I married. The same nagging woman I am with now, is the same nagging woman I fell in love with. If I had any regrets of marrying you, you would be back in your clan,” he scoffs and pulls your head to his chest with an annoyed expression “I love you, you stupid woman,” to any other person, your relationship might’ve seemed strange, but to you, this moment showed you just how much he truly loved you. Even if he has weird ways of showing it.

Shisui Uchiha

✧ Wait, he didn’t quite hear you well. Wait, what did you say? He turned towards you with a raised brow, his mouth slightly parted as he tried to figure out if you had said what he thought you said. Noticing his lost expression, you had no choice but to repeat yourself, much to your annoyance “I hate you,” this time, he did hear you. Loud and clear. To him, it felt like he took hours to respond to you, but in reality, his answer left his mouth almost immediately, “No you don’t,” It wasn’t meant to be cocky, it just sounded like it was. At least, to you it sounded cocky, and it made you even angrier with him. It annoyed you that he never took you seriously, “Oh, so now you think you know how I feel, do you?” you spat at him, hands clenching into tight fists as your eyes locked intensely, “You never care about anything! You come home and sleep and don’t even have time for me. I know you have a hard job, and I don’t expect you to be there at my beck and call, but at least asking me how I am would be enough,” you stressed, waving your arms frantically around you in desperation. You had been like this all week, stressed and unable to talk to anyone, because the only person you could ever rant and banter about things that bothered you in life was barely there for you, and when he was, it was like he wasn’t! He would barely listen to you anymore, and would expect you to listen to him. And you did, you always did. But you wanted something in return, and that was a sliver of his attention.

✧ “You're telling me you hate me over something so little?” he asks with furrowed brows, making you even more annoyed, “Over something so little?” You repeated through gritted teeth. His face, for once, contorted into one of annoyance, something you had never seen on him before, “Yes! Little! Because you know how my line of work is! You know that I barely have time to sleep, let alone waste my time with useless banter!” You were left speechless, standing in front of him with hurt eyes. “Yeah, useless. You’re right. Because my feelings don’t matter,” you scoff, “That’s not what I—” you interrupt him by turning away, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as realization finally hits him. You weren’t trying to waste his time, you just wanted to spend time with him. He had been so lost in his work, so busy caring for himself that he completely neglected you.

✧ “Oh darling,” he takes your hand again, a frown painting his face, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I’m just stressed out. Everything's happening so fast, and the clan isn’t helping at all.” he sighs and pulls you in towards him, engulfing you in his tight embrace, yet you didn’t say anything, “I know I’ve been neglecting you, and you deserve better. Please, let me make it up to you,” he whispers into you hair as he lowers down to kiss your head, “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t have you by my side,”

Itachi Uchiha

✧ “I hate you,” you mumble under your breath as you look at your lover. No, he wasn’t your lover anymore. He had left the village years ago, leaving you behind with a broken heart and a broken image of him. He was a monster who murdered his entire clan, and even though he had left years ago, he still looked the same as when he was still in the village, with only one difference. Those eyes. Those red eyes that stared deep into your soul. They terrified you. The eyes that you once loved and cared about so much looked down at you with no emotion. They were empty. They were dark. They were hurt. “I hate you, for everything that you did,” you pushed him, backing away from him with angry eyes. His cloak told you everything you needed to know. He was part of the Akatsuki, he was the enemy now. He was a traitor, and although your words were meant to hurt him, he closed his eyes and nodded, understanding your hatred towards him. “I understand,” he says in such a soft voice. His voice that you missed so much.

✧ You didn’t understand why he came to visit you. Why come in the middle of the night to see you? Why? Why waste his breath coming back to see you when he knew you wanted nothing to do with him? Because this would be his final goodbye. There were only a handful of people Itachi cared for—Two, to be exact. His brother, and the love of his life. He knew that soon he’d perish, and this was the final time he would ever see you again. Not that it mattered. He tried not to think about it, thinking it would make things worse. It would be better if he never came to see you, but his heart got the best of him, and so he sat there at your window, looking at you for one final time.

✧ “You don’t,” you clench your fist, hurt by his mere presence, “I don’t want anything to do with you, and I will report you to the higher ups. Unless you came here to kill me, which I don’t doubt,” you were defenseless, but you wouldn’t go out without a fight. Never. You would fight until the very end, but soon you realized he wasn’t there to kill you. “I have no need for that,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I came by my own selfishness. I don’t expect you to understand, and I accept your hatred, which I deserve,” he looks at you, red eyes burning into yours, “I simply wanted to see you for a final time,” he smiles and reaches out for you, pushing your hair out of your face, “My love,” and with that, your vision goes black as your consciousness slips away from you. You would wake up the next day tucked into your bed with a necklace tucked tightly in your hand.

Sasuke Uchiha

✧ Words never hurt this Uchiha, he was used to every awful thing anyone could throw at him. He cared too little about anything and everything, and that's what you hated the most about him. He barely cared about anything you did or said, at all times. He didn’t care how you looked because he never complimented you, he didn’t care how you acted because he barely spoke to you. You felt like you were in a relationship with a ghost, in fact, the comparison was not even close, because dating a ghost would be ten times better than this. And with every passing day of being emotionally neglected by your partner, today was no different. He was back in the village, and instead of coming to you first—to his home—he decided it was better to meet with Naruto and Sakura over seeing his wife who waited patiently everyday for him. You questioned if the ring on your finger meant anything to him at all at that moment. Despite this,

✧ When he got home, you were so happy, yet he showed no sign of interest in anything you did for him. You cooked and he ate, saying nothing about the taste of your new recipe. In fact, he seemed like he didn’t notice that you had learnt to cook a new dish just for him. Even so, you shrugged his annoying attitude off and asked about his day instead. Your question seemed to annoy the tired man as he became uninterested in mid conversation. When you asked him what was wrong, he shrugged you off. You kept questioning him until he snapped at you, telling you how you were annoying him with all your worries. This had been the final straw. You always gave everything in the relationship. You understood he wasn’t the best at showing his emotions, but it didn’t mean he could act like he didn’t care about you. Like you were nothing. The argument got heated and it ended up with you opening your mouth without thinking. “I hate you!” After your words fell out of your mouth, the room fell silent. He who had been looking away from you, had now turned his full attention towards you, “You don’t mean that, stop being dramatic,” the sight of him rolling his eyes hurt you more than it ever did. “You don’t care about anything, Sasuke. I do everything to try and please you. I could even say I live for you, but it’s never enough! You don’t take a sliver of your time to appreciate me. You think I have to be there for you whenever you need me, but can just leave whenever you want!” you yell, hitting the wall in frustration.

✧ “You don’t care about me! You don't love me anymore!” you were in a current state of pure anger, letting out everything you ever wanted to say to him. This makes him stand up and walk towards you, taking your wrist in his hand. You look up at him, tears of frustration prickling in the corner of your eyes. “If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have married you. You mean a lot more to me than you think. I… I’m sorry if I don’t show it,” he sighs, “I love your cooking, I love your stories—I love hearing about everything that happened throughout your day. You’re the only thing I can think about when I’m away,” he lets go of your wrist and places a hand on your cheek, “Don’t hate me, because you’re the only important thing in my life. You’re my wife, and I…” he stops himself, trying to build the courage to complete his sentence. A small blush decorates his cheeks before he sighs, “I care for you a lot,” your husband wasn’t perfect, but you still loved him a lot, and you knew he loved you too.

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[theemporium]

[4.6k] as the season dwindles on and the new year approaches, luke comes to a handful of realisations. some of them were unsurprising. some of them were not. one of them leads to a very interesting interaction during his captain's new years party. (smut)

series masterlist

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Whoever said it was better to be self aware was a fucking liar. 

It had been a few weeks since the Hughesbowl and Luke had come to a few realisations in that time. Some epiphanies that had been tormenting him over sleepless nights as the season dragged on into December and quickly approached the end of the year. 

One: No matter how many times he had said it before, Luke still couldn’t quite grasp just how different NHL hockey was to the hockey he had been playing his whole life. And it sounded stupid to say, considering he had grown up being around NHL players and had two brothers in the league before him too. But it was tiring and rewarding and, fuck, he didn’t think he had ever been so hungry in his damn life before he joined the NHL. 

Two: Adulting in college versus adulting in real life was weird, different and not as fun as he liked to think it was when he was growing up. He felt like he spent most of his free time fighting the washing machine, wondering if groceries had always been this expensive and bribing Jack to do things for him when it got too overwhelming or confusing. Which, also wasn’t great considering his brother was just as helpless as he was, and Quinn was too far away to bother. 

Three: Despite the concerns tucked away in the back of his mind when he signed his first contract with the Devils, none of the team had made him feel like he was just Jack’s younger brother. He knew Nico had said as much at the start of the season, but experiencing it and really feeling like a part of the team brought a fuzzy warmth in his chest that he wasn’t quite ready to confess to anyone—but it was a nice feeling that followed him through the season, even after the losses. 

Four: Figuring out you were kind of in love with your friend who also offered to take your virginity was not exactly the best crisis to be having in the middle of your rookie NHL season. But he was having said crisis regardless and there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

And five: the Devils took New Years very seriously. 

As in serious enough that Jack was looking at him like he was the crazy one at this current moment.

“Did you hear what I just said?” 

Luke blinked, his spoon hovering awkwardly over his bowl of cereal as he stared at his brother across the table. “Yeah no, I heard you. I am just trying to wrap my head around why you decided to tell me at—” His eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall before returning to Jack. “Seven in the morning that I am banned from leaving the state for New Years?”

“Because you’ll make Nico sad,” Jack said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke put his spoon down. “Nah, you’ve still lost me.” 

Jack let out a deep sigh. “You can’t upset him like that, Luke. He’s our captain.”

“And me leaving the state in the three days off we have between games around then will upset him?” Luke deadpanned. He wasn’t even planning on leaving. He doesn't even know where he would go. But his sleepy brain almost wanted to pretend he had plans just to spite Jack right now.

“Duh,” Jack huffed. “He throws a New Years thing every year. Jonas missed it once when he had some family in town and Nico was pouty as fuck after, even if he didn’t admit it. It’s, like, a team bonding thing for him. Hockey families and real families coming together.”

Luke blinked. “It’s way too early for me to understand half the words that just left your mouth.”

“Plus we have a game on his birthday,” Jack added with a shrug. “It will probably be a double celebration.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke grumbled as he shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’ll be there. You know I’d be there. I don’t get why you’re asking.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment before he spoke again, trying (and failing) to sound casual. “He doesn’t mind if you bring some guests. The more the merrier.”

Luke bit back his yawn. “Who would I even bring?” 

Jack shot him a deadpan look. “You’re so dumb.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, almost tempted to lay his head down on the counter and fall asleep right there. “M’not gonna miss Nico’s New Years party, don’t gotta get defensive about your boyfriend.”

Jack let out a noise that sounded vaguely close to a squeak. “He is not my boyfriend—” 

Luke zoned out after that. 

…

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Luke was sprawled on the floor in some feeble attempt of stretching his muscles after a late morning gym session, that Jack’s words made sense. 

He stared up at the gym room ceiling, listening to the various noises around the room: machines humming, metal clinking, guys talking. It was oddly soothing, almost mindful. These were noises Luke was familiar with, that he sought out to cling onto when the noises in his head were a little more irritating. It reminded him that he was actually there in the moment.

“Are you stuck down there?” 

Luke blinked as a shadow suddenly casted over him, taking a few seconds before he saw Nico staring down at him with an inquisitive look, though he seemed more amused than concerned. 

“Cardio days suck,” was all he was able to supply, his hands resting on his stomach as he made no move to sit back up or head towards the locker room to shower and change.

Nico just snorted, shaking his head in a way that almost seemed fond. “Welcome to the big league.” 

“Every league has cardio,” Luke replied, a little snottily if he was honest with himself. “And it sucks no matter what age you are.” 

Nico’s grin just widened in response.

For a moment, Luke was happy to just lay there for a few more minutes and let Nico wander off to go check on some of the other guys dotted around the gym. He knew his captain, knew he was doing his rounds and knew that he would have done them anyways, regardless of the ‘C’ on his chest because that was just the type of person Nico was. Luke was happy to let him shift that attention onto someone else.

But then Nico turned to head towards Haula and Bastian on the treadmills and a thought suddenly entered his head and Luke was opening his mouth before he even realised it.

“Hey, are you still doing your New Years thing?” 

Nico paused, his face brightening up. “Yeah, I am.” He paused, his smile faltering a little. “Why, can you not make it? I swear Jack said you could—”

“No, yeah, I am,” Luke answered quickly, scrambling to sit up a little so he would feel less exposed. He ran his fingers through his curls, wincing a little when his pinky nabbed a tangle before making his eyes meet Nico’s curious gaze. “I was just wondering if it would be okay if I brought someone.” 

Nico’s shoulders dropped in relief but his head tilted in interest. “Brought someone?” 

“A friend,” Luke supplied. 

“A friend,” Nico repeated, looking as though he was biting back his grin. “Yeah no, bring her with you. The more the merrier.”

Luke raised his brows. “How did you know it was a her?” 

Nico smiled knowingly. “Call it a captain’s hunch.”

Luke frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

Nico just shrugged in response. 

He tried not to let the question linger too much, instead finally forcing himself to finish his stretches before heading towards the locker room. The noise of his teammates blurred in the background as he reached for his phone, typing out a message before heading towards the showers.

hockey boy: u got any plans for nye?

…

“You suck.”

“I literally don’t know how else you expected me to answer the question.”

“I asked you what the dress code was and you said ‘nice’,” you scoffed, shooting the boy a look as you settled into the passenger seat of his car. “Nice isn’t a dress code. Nice doesn’t tell me if I should be wearing jeans or a dress.”

Luke tried—and failed-–to bite back his grin as he glanced over at you. “I see you went with the dress.” 

“No thanks to you,” you retorted with a small huff, but your lips were already twitching upwards. “I would rather your teammates think I am weirdly overdressed than weirdly underdressed.” 

“They won’t think you are weird,” he assured you, deciding not to point out the fact you had been around them on previous occasions and had never ran into that issue before. He didn’t think you would want him playing know-it-all. “But maybe stay away from Curtis.” 

He could hear the glee in your voice, even if he didn’t turn his head around. “Scared he will give me some ammo against you?” 

“Yes.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “My new favourite Devil.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, also deciding not to mention the small burn of jealousy that bubbled in his stomach at your obvious joke. 

“Don’t worry,” you said after a few moments of silence, playfully knocking your hand against his thigh. “I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of your people.”

Luke snorted. “My people?”

“Yeah, you athletes are all super weird about your teammates. You guys kinda seem more like a cult than a family but it’s cute,” you teased. “Does this mean I get to join the cult for the night? Special access?” 

“We aren’t a cult,” Luke scoffed, choosing to also not mention the handful of weird superstitions half of his teammates complete before every game. 

“But they are important to you,” you retorted.

Luke nodded, smiling a little softer. “Yeah. They are.” 

“Then I’ll keep the fact you thought the Titanic was a documentary a secret,” you concluded, snickering when the boy let out an exaggerated groan.

“It’s based on a real ship, okay!” 

“Yeah but Leonardo DiCaprio wasn’t on the ship back in 1912 when it went down.” 

“Whatever, there was room on that door and everyone knows it,” Luke grumbled, sniffling slightly before he turned to glance at you once again as the car came to a stop at a red light. “You’re important to me too, you know.” 

You turned your head to look at him, wiggling your eyebrows. “Working towards a midnight blowjob instead of a midnight kiss?” 

“I—no,” his cheeks burned hot and he was suddenly glad the car was too dark for you to see the full extent of how red his face must have been as memories of you on your knees—of his number on your cheeks—flashed to the front of his mind. “I mean it. You’re important to me.” 

You blinked, your smile faltering a little when you realised he was serious. “Oh.”

“Like,” Luke quickly cleared his throat. “We’re friends, right? My friends are important to me.” 

“Yeah no, of course,” you laughed, and maybe it was still a little awkward and stilted but he was glad you weren’t jumping out of the car and running off. “I didn’t realise I reached cult level though.”

Luke smiled. “Maybe just for tonight.”

“Knew it!” 

He turned his eyes back to the road for the rest of the journey to Nico’s place.

…

Luke knew he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. He knew that. He didn’t even mean to. It just kind of happened somewhere between him disappearing into Nico’s kitchen to look amongst the weird European beers and ciders until he could find two flutes of champagne for you both and walking back with said flutes in hand to overhear you talking to Jack. 

Jack, who he remembered being on the other side of the room almost on Nico’s lap, before he left to grab your drinks.

“You watch our games?” 

Luke paused, a voice in his head telling him to take that step forward, to walk back into the room, to intervene before Jack inevitably embarrassed him. The other—and louder—voice kept him put, holding onto the champagne flutes tightly as he listened. 

“Yeah, the ones I can.” 

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“Guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I mean, I don’t understand a single thing that is happening.”

“Luke hasn’t explained the game to you?”

“Oh no, he has. I still don’t get it. But hey, the commentators tell me you guys are pretty good.” 

Luke listened to the way Jack laughed, noted how it sounded more like his actual laugh rather than the stilted media one.

“I’m surprised Luke had the balls to invite you.” 

Luke’s eyes widened, his cheeks growing hot again as he silently vowed to trip Jack up during their next practice for that line.

“Am I that scary?” 

Jack didn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t think it’s you he’s scared of.”

“What? He thought you guys would scare me away?” 

“We can be overwhelming.”

“You guys fight other grown men on ice for a living, I think I can survive.”

Jack laughed again. “Mom would love you, you really know how to keep a guy humble.”

“You mean keep his ego in check.”

“Professional athletes with egos? Unheard of.”

This time it was you who snorted out a laugh.

“You’re not what I expected, Cherry.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” 

But before Jack could say anything, before he could possibly embarrass Luke any further and continue whatever weird interrogation he had going on with you, Luke quickly rounded the corner and practically shoved a champagne flute into your hand whilst shooting his brother a look.

“Shouldn’t you be bothering Nico or something?” 

Jack shot his brother a knowing look, glancing between the two of you before he took a step back. “Yeah, I guess I have a few things to tell him.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. 

“It was nice to meet you, Cherry,” Jack said earnestly, tipping his beer bottle towards you. “Maybe I’ll catch you at the house. It would be nice to see Luke around instead of running off to yours.”

You snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Luke watched the new but playful camaraderie between you and his brother. The banter and the shared laughs at his expense. He watched it as he chugged a mouthful of champagne, hoping the bubbles would drown the other fluttering feelings he was feeling in his stomach. 

…

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You snapped your head around, your smile widening a little when you found Luke standing by the door of the guest room. His sleeves were now rolled up, a few more buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his curls looked as though they had been ruffled by a drunk and very handsy Haula more than once.

“The main bathroom was occupied so Nico said I could come in and use the guest room bathroom,” you explained, nodding your head towards the other door. 

“And you decided to hide in here afterwards?” Luke asked, mostly playful and teasing but there was a hint of concern in his voice. The team could be a lot sometimes and, despite the fact you seemed more than capable of holding your own, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable and as though you couldn’t leave.

“I got intrigued,” you shrugged as you gestured towards the bookshelf that seemed to take over a large portion of the guest room wall. “How many languages does this guy know?”

Luke snorted as he walked deeper into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed with a small huff. “I think three?” He shrugged, leaning back against his hands. 

“That must be so cool,” you murmured, your eyes flickering over the book spines before turning back to look at Luke. “Do you know any other languages?” 

Luke shook his head.

“None?” You laughed in disbelief. “Buddy, most of your teammates down there speak English as a second language and you haven’t picked up anything?” 

“Do three words in standard German count?” Luke retorted, playful and sheepish all at once. “Jack tried learning on Duolingo for, like, two weeks to try to impress Nico during summer before realising Swiss German and standard German are different.”

You shook your head, trying to bite back your smile as you wandered closer. “F for effort on your part. I’m pretty sure Jonas taught me more in one conversation than you’ve learnt all season.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his fingers twitching against the comforter with the urge to reach out for you. “It can be my New Years resolution.” 

“Yeah? You have a list?” You questioned, watching as he spread his legs without thinking and let you into the space like it was instinctual. 

He shrugged. “I try. Achievable stuff, you know?” 

You raised your brows. “Like?”

“Eat better, workout more, start a new hobby,” he listed off, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he finally gave in, as he finally reached for your waist to tug you even closer to him. “Learn a new skill. Or improve on ones I already know.”

You hummed, your hands resting on his shoulders as your fingers skimmed the fabric of his shirt. “Hockey skills?” 

Luke glanced up at you, swallowing a little. “Not all of them.”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

His thumb smoothed over your hips, feeling the small details of your dress under his touch. “What’s on your list?” 

“I don’t have one,” you admitted with a shrug. “No point to it. If I want to do something, I’ll do it.” 

“Sounds like one of the media trained answers we are forced to give,” Luke teased, pressing his thumb a little harsher to gain your attention when your head tipped back with a laugh. “No, but really. There’s nothing new you wanna try?” 

“Are you offering?” You retorted, lighthearted and teasing. 

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Maybe I am.” 

Your head tilted slightly, your hand moving to lightly grasp the back of his neck. “We probably shouldn’t. I hate to break it to you, Hughes, but you’re not very quiet once you get going.” 

His cheeks burned but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. “Who said I was the one getting off?” 

And that seemed to catch you by surprise.

“Pretty boy is feeling confident, huh?” You mused, your fingers brushing against the curls at the nape of his neck. “As hot as it is, I don’t think we have time.” 

And your words sent a spark through, soft and buzzing and persistent. A spark that he knew very well, a spark that made his grip on your waist tighten. A spark that he felt every single time he stepped onto the ice.

“Is that a challenge?” Luke asked, his voice a little lower than he intended. 

You smirked, shaking your head. “Depends what you have in mind.” 

His heart was pounding in his chest, loud and strong and overwhelming, but it didn’t stop him as he leaned his chin against your stomach. “I want to make you come.” 

Your eyes wandered over his face, at the pure determination in his eyes. “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his hands trailing down the side of your thighs. “That’s on my list too.” 

Your lips twitched. “Thinking of becoming a ladies man? Live up to the hockey sex god stereotype?” 

He shook his head. “No. Not other girls. Just wanna make you come.”

You didn’t have a reply for that. 

“I wanna make you come right now. In here.” There was a flicker of something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. 

Your brows lifted slightly.

“If you want to,” he added, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Consent is sexy, you know.” 

“Show me what you’ve got, pretty boy,” you murmured, leaning down to close the distance between you as you pressed your lips against his. 

The rest of the world was a distant buzz in the back of his mind once you finally kissed him, his shoulders dropping with some unexplainable relief that only being around you seems to bring. Your fingers were already in his curls by the time his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, leaving the boy groaning and gasping into your mouth as you tugged him closer. 

You pulled back for a second, to catch your breath and appreciate the flush on his cheeks before leaning back in. But it was enough. It was enough to have his mind spiralling faster than he could even keep up with.

For a split second, you weren’t smiling down at him. For a split second, the two of you were back in his car and you were staring at him with an expression he didn’t understand, an expression that made his stomach turn nonetheless. For a split second, he was just staring helplessly at you as you doubted the words he said. 

And whilst Luke never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, he knew it would be a monumentally stupid idea to repeat the words. He knew that if he repeated the words he said in the car, if he tried to insist on their truth, you would shut down again. 

And he didn’t want that.

Not at all.

But the overwhelming and insistent need to show you what you meant to him was bubbling inside him, swirling along with the bottled up feelings and glasses of champagne he had drank over the course of the night. 

And if he couldn’t tell you, he would show you. He would make you see that you were important to him, that this unlikely and unconventional friendship may have started with you helping him but he was in this for you too. 

That your pleasure was important to him too.

He swallowed your gasp with another kiss as he tugged you closer, as he finally broke whatever restraint the two of you had until you were finally on his lap. Or, almost on his lap. But when you tried to shift in his hold, when you tried to straddle his lap properly, Luke’s strong grip on your waist kept you locked in place.

“Stay,” he murmured, swallowing harshly as he leaned back enough to watch the confusion wash over your face. 

“I thought—” You started but he was already shaking his head.

“Like this. I want to get you off like this,” he confessed, his voice rasping as he tried to pretend like his whole body wasn’t thrumming with excitement and nerves and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name. “On my thigh.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Fuck, Luke,” you murmured under your breath before pulling his lips back onto yours through the hold you still had on his curls. 

He sunk into the kiss as easily as he breathed, moaning softly when he felt your tongue against his own. His hands clung onto you, squeezing your waist like he needed to make sure you were actually there, like this was real and not some sex-crazed dream he would wake up from, half-hard and alone in his room. 

But the silk of your dress remained under his touch, soft and smooth and bunching in his fists as he clenched the fabric in his hold. And then his hands started wandering as you continued to kiss him senseless. 

He pushed the skirt of your dress up until it pooled at your waist, until his hands were engulfing and squeezing your thighs. His fingers continued to skin upwards, until his fingertips were brushing against the waistband of your panties, until he could hear the small gasp you let out as he lightly traced them. 

It made his head spin the way you were straddling his thigh, the way he could feel the warmth of your cunt pressed against his leg, feel it through the fabric of the dress pants he wore for the party. It made his head spin how he wished he could pull them off, how he wished he could just feel you with no boundaries between. 

His hands were pawing at you before they started to guide you, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. It was slow and deliberate, almost unnoticeable until the first choked out noise you let out between the soft kisses he was giving you. 

“C’mon,” his voice was low, rough, full of desire. “Want you to take what you want.” 

One hand remained entangled in his curls but the other shifted down to grip his shoulder, to dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you continued to follow the pace he set. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. It felt so fucking good with his sweet words smothering the slow pace he refused to relent.

“Shit, Luke, I—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lower lip as he continued to guide your hips, as he continued to let you grind yourself against his flexing thigh. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured out, feeling like he was in a daze as he watched your eyes flutter shut. You were breathtaking when you let the pleasure take over, when he got to see you with no walls up and unguarded. “Just tell me.” 

“More,” you managed to mutter out, your head falling back as you continued to ride his thigh, to feel the rush of what you were doing just down the hall from his teammates wash over you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered because he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t hold the thought back even if he wanted to. “Wanna make you come more, Cherry baby, shit.”

Because he did. He wanted to do this a million more times if he could watch you like this for the rest of his life. He wanted to see you riding his thigh, unashamed and unabashed, so lost in your own pleasure—pleasure that you were receiving from him—that you had no other worries in the world.

He wanted to watch you lean your head forward against his shoulder, his name leaving your lips between soft moans and a list of curse words as your orgasm washed over you. He wanted to watch the way your body shook with the after effects, the way you clung onto him like a lineline. 

He wanted to watch the way you lifted your head, giving him a smile so soft that he felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath him. 

“I have been severely underrating hockey thighs all these years,” you muttered, your smile widening a little more when Luke let out a disbelieving laugh.

Luke couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. “What? No thank you?” 

“That’s your thing, pretty boy, not mine,” you teased before you relented, leaning forward to press a soft but lingering kiss on his cheek. It was somehow the most intimate act you shared in the last fifteen minutes. “Ten out of ten for your thighs.”

Luke swallowed harshly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good, because that won’t be the last time we are using them,” you said to him, so sure of yourself and unaware of the muddle of thoughts in his head at that moment. 

“Happy New Years, Cherry,” he managed to mutter out, not even sure if the clock had passed twelve or not. But it was the last of his concerns when you smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, Luke,” you murmured softly. 

And yet, all he could think about was how he wanted to hear those words leave your mouth every year. 

.

[monstertreden]

◡̈⋆🅷🅸(●’◡’●)ﾉ!! saw that requests for writing is open, so I would like to politely and gladly request this 🤍

mutual pining with optimus prime and human fem reader!! and if possible, the timeline in the bumblebee film (2018) please. optimus is confused about the blossoming feelings he has for reader and seeks help from bumblebee since he has been on earth longer and assumes he knows better haha!! bumblebee is like his wingman :3c

sorry for yapping, but this is my request please and thank you 🥹🫶🏻 have a good one!!! <33

☁︎ RAINY DAYS ☁︎

-Reader: FEM reader  -TW: none -Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers 2018 movie) -Summary: Optimus develops a quiet, protective affection for a human companion, treasuring their moments together. -Word count : 1453 -A/N: Ahhh this was so cutee!! I've tried my best, anon! :) It took me a bit to polish this one just trying to catch Optimus character better :3, hope you like it! . . . I love big robots.

The Prime stood in quiet contemplation, his optics flickering with the weight of his thoughts. Today the "Autobots base" was noiseless, except for the only sound in the room that came from a small TV. Its screen casted a faint glow, as his loyal companion, Bumblebee, zapped through various channels, each displaying what he presumed was human entertainment. The great leader of the Autobots had faced countless battles and made decisions that shaped the fate of Earth itself. Yet, now, he was confronted with a challenge that left him uncertain… his growing affection for a human.

He turned his helm towards Bumblebee, who was still tinkering with a small rectangular device, undoubtedly another human invention. The scout's dexterous servos moved with precision, his curiosity for human culture evident in every motion. That curiosity he had for humans was something else, Bumblebee had always been adept at understanding humans, particularly one individual who had become dear to the scout’s spark, a connection Optimus couldn’t quite wrap his helm around.

"Bumblebee, my dear friend." Optimus's voice rumbled inside the shed, to which the scout beeped in acknowledgement, blue optics lifting from the small device he held. For all his wisdom and experience, Optimus found the nuances of such personal connections… elusive, particularly when it came to matters involving a certain earth native. "I find myself in need of your counsel…” his voice steady but laced with an uncharacteristic hesitance. “…might I ask, how does one get acquainted with an earthling?”

Bumblebee's optics brightened with amusement. Lately, he had seen the Prime’s subtle shifts once he got closer to their human friend. To see the unshakeable pillar of their team, a leader who rarely wavered, seeking guidance on something as deeply personal as affection, from him! Knowing full well that too much teasing could get him grounded, once again, by the big boss, he suppressed a teasing comment.  

Shifting between radio stations, Bumblebee spoke "—that’s it!—might as well spend quality time with her—boss!”

The idea of approaching a human affectionately weighed heavily on Optimus. Deep down he was lost in thought, the alliance between humans and Autobots came first. However, this particular human had earned his respect, and gradually, he found himself warming up to her presence.

It was unexpected…

Ever attuned to his leader's demeanour nuances, Bumblebee softened his  veiled teasing, followed by his next suggestion “---You all go for--- a Joy Ride!---”

Racing with a pick-up truck? That would be too risky, perhaps even impractical. His alt mode was functional, built for resilience and reliability, not for speed or flashiness, neither a sports car nor a sleek vehicle.  It was a step he could take, though at his own pace.

"I thank you, dear friend" Optimus said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "Your insight is... most valuable."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

The sky had darkened, thick clouds gathering as a gentle rain began to fall. Subsequentially, the steady rhythm of the droplets intensified, each drop falling heavier than before. Amid the relentless rain, another sound broke through the downpour. It was the distinctive hum of an engine, accompanied by the sharp, glowing brilliance of the four headlights piercing through the rain. The pickup truck stood resolutely by the side of the road, its metallic frame shimmering as droplets clung to its surface.

The truck had been waiting patiently for an indeterminate time as then, through the haze of rain she appeared, huddled under a small red umbrella. Illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlamp, Optimus watched as she approached, her steps careful on the slick pavement. Once she reached his side, the door unlocked with a quiet click, inviting her inside. “Finally—” trembling, she climbed into the passenger seat, the door closing firmly behind her.

Inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the front seats, a stark contrast to the cool rain outside. She set her umbrella aside and leaned back in the seat, with a contented sigh. "Thanks a lot for picking me up, Optimus" her voice resonated in his spark “I’m terribly sorry, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long under this damn rain! I swear, my weather said it was going to be cloudy...totally not this??”

"It is no trouble," Optimus replied, his voice a gentle rumble through the speakers. “I wouldn't want you walking in this kind of weather, you might get hurt. Never hesitate to give me a call, little one.”

Soon enough the engine started, and they drove in comfortable silence, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. Optimus found solace in these quiet moments, the presence of his human companion filling the space with an unspoken connection. He relished the opportunity to simply be near her, to share in the simplicity of the moment. This was his kind of “Joy ride”, a serene, intimate experience far removed from the high-energy adventures Bumblebee often took part in.

As they neared her home, the glow of streetlights casting soft halos on the rain-slicked road, she turned slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "You know," she began "I’ve always appreciated how you make time for me. It means a lot."

Optimus's spark swelled with an emotion that, despite his longevity and vast experience since he first came online, he was still learning to fully understand. "Your companionship brings me a sense of peace," he admitted, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. "It is a privilege to be a part of your world."

Her hand reached out, soft fingers brushing against the dashboard in a gesture of affection. “And it's a privilege to have you in mine, truly"  she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. She knew he could hear her, loud and clear, even if he didn’t respond immediately. There was a quiet understanding between them, one that was broken by his warm voice, drawing her attention.

“Would you like to hear some stories, my little friend?”

.ᐟ.ᐟ

An hour had passed, her eyelids grew heavy and she found herself lulled by the light sway of the truck. It was a rare moment of peace in a world often filled with chaos. Here, cradled in the safety of Optimus Prime, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, trusting completely in the steadfast guardian who was carrying her home.

“---This brings many memories in my circuit” Optimus mused softly “The first steps we Autobots took on your lively, vibrant planet. It’s a bittersweet feeling, filled with nostalgia…” His words trailed off as he realized she had succumbed to sleep, her form gently resting against the cushion seat. “oh…” His words had continued longer than he intended. She had fallen asleep, her head resting against the cushioned seat.

His engine hummed quietly as he turned the corner by her house. With a slow, deliberate movement, the Prime transformed. His massive frame shifted awkwardly, yet he was careful enough to avoid any disruption.

With utmost care, his servos extended towards her,  cradling her sleeping form. She stirred slightly but did not wake, her trust in him evident in her relaxed posture. As if in the hands of someone who would never harm her.

Attentive optics caught sight of the slightly open window. Soon, Optimus approached it, parting it with a click, careful not to make a sound. The rain had all but ceased, leaving the night air cool and fresh. With ultimate precision, he laid her down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her in a gesture that felt almost human. He lingered for a moment, his optics soft, his gaze filled with a tenderness that reflected his deep sense of protectiveness. She was safe here, in the comfort of her own room, sheltered from the outside world.

He stood there for a moment, his optics soft as he gazed at her peaceful expression. "Goodnight," he whispered, his voice a deep murmur. "May the stars always guide you."

.ᐟ.ᐟ

As he quietly stepped back from the window, miraculously avoiding breaking the glass, the Prime remained near her backyard, his massive form casting a shadow over the wall of her house. The soft hum of his systems settled into a quiet vigil, ensuring her safety throughout the night. There Optimus found solace in the knowledge that, for now, as long as he was with her, she would be safe and sound. With the Autobots' base under control, he decided to linger near her home, keeping a watchful optic on her,  a silent but devoted promise of protection and care.

The faint light of the stars reflected in his optics as the night enveloped him while he transformed back into his vehicle mode.

Tomorrow would be another day.

[vonlycsnn]

✧ — PICTURE PERFECT

~ VON LYCAON X GENDER NEUTRAL ARTIST! READER.

SUMMARY: You're a famous artist/illustrator in New Eridu, absolutely tired of trying to deal with recent problems. then you decide to call Victoria Housekeeping Co. for some help, it was the best decision of your life.

- cw/tw: none.

- A/N: im so obsessed over this man its genuinely concerning, pls help. also this might be messy/ooc(?)...it's my first time writing this kinda stuff so bare with me.

Being such a well-known artist in New Eridu is tough work. Not only do you have to keep up with your clients' demands and expectations, you also have to deal with thieves trying to steal your work. 

You were thankful that some of your most valuable artworks were in museums that had incredible security, but even so, those bastards are still trying to break into your mansion and steal your canvases that have yet to be delivered or even unfinished.

Understandably, you grew tired of all the stuff you went through, slowly becoming restless from the amount of sleepless nights you had to fight through. To the point where you wanted to quit art completely but you just couldn't. Art was your passion. You've been drawing for nearly your entire life; you couldn't quit now.

Thankfully, a kind client of yours took notice of your situation and recommended Victoria Housekeeping to you. At first you were skeptical; there's no way a housekeeping company could help you with these problems, right?

—

"I don't think they'll be able to help me..." you kindly said. The client merely smiled and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"Just give them a call. Trust me."

—

And here you are now, constantly being served and protected by the members of Victoria Housekeeping. You were extremely grateful for their service; they've made your life so much better than you expected. 

You've grown so close to them that you became one of their most respected clients, having to be close friends with each of the members. You didn't want to say that you had a favorite attendant, but you do have a preferred one. 

Rina, although her general services are incredible and you'd always find yourself having a great time with her, her culinary skills are...questionable at best, but still, you didn't want to upset her by any means. 

Corin is a sweet girl. When the two of you became acquainted, you saw her as a little sister. Although you were surprised at how strong she is for her age, you didn't think much of it. The problem with her is how much she doubts herself; you'd have to constantly remind her that she's not doing anything wrong, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were pretty annoyed.

Ellen, well...she isn't too enthusiastic about regular housekeeping jobs, not to mention she's always low-energy. But the number of times she saved you from the most dangerous situations was enough for her to gain your respect. Plus, talking about internet trends with her is always fun.

And there's Lycaon. Oh, did you have so many words about him. To keep it simple, he was just right. His services are always near perfect; he has saved you countless times from hollows and thieves; he is elegant; he is a gentleman; you could ramble about him all day for all you cared.

To be perfectly honest, you grew a crush on him. Every time he'd lean behind you to see what you're working on, you'd always freeze in place. Too flustered by what was happening. Every time you'd hear his voice, you'd melt. The way he acts just makes your heart flutter...He was perfect.

As your own personal request for him, you wished he'd spend more time with you. Be it in the mansion or outside. He smiled, bowing down in front of you.

—

"As you wish, master. I'm more than happy to spend time with an amazing artist such as yourself." He said. You saw his tail wagging ever so slightly, but decided to say nothing; you merely smiled.

—

Every now and then he'd come to your office to check on you; he'd bring you food every time you lost track of time; he'd give you a massage whenever you had free time.

"It's always important to maintain a good posture, master." As he would say.

But being an attendant for a full-time artist comes with its own challenges. Other than having to constantly be on guard at night for possible thieves, he'd always let out an irritated sigh whenever he saw your workspace covered in paint. Especially when you're making abstract art. But he understands that art can be messy sometimes, and that's fine.

Every time you get a commission to make abstract art, you'd always rent a workspace outside of the mansion. Just so Lycaon doesn't have to deal with the mess.

But other than that, the two of you were grateful for each other's company.

Much to your dismay, however, your feelings for him grew the longer you spent time with him. You became so close to Lycaon than any of the other attendants; he knew your weakness, he knew your strengths, and he even knew some of your secrets.

You couldn't express your feelings for him with words, and so you did what you knew best: to draw. As a request, you asked Lycaon if you could take a few pictures of him. Of course he obliged. Amidst the photography, he asked.

"If I were to be bold to ask, master, what is the purpose of this?"

You merely smiled at him, saying that it's nothing important. A part of him knew about what you're planning, but he decided to keep quiet and merely chuckled.

After the interaction, you quickly but stealthily took a small canvas and a few of your painting supplies.

—

Days passed, and the painting was finally ready. You have pulled many all-nighters to finish this; you spent so much time carefully adding details and capturing his looks to the formerly blank canvas. And you couldn't be happier with the results; you just hope it was enough to make him understand the message you're trying to pass.

You took a deep breath and finally called for him. He quickly arrives at your workspace, noticing the medium-sized easel and the small paint stains on the floor. Your back was facing towards him, trying to hide the painting from his view. Realizing what to do, you flipped the canvas and turned towards him. He was understandably confused, and you were too nervous to say anything. You quickly walked up to him and handed the canvas to him.

"Here. I...made this for you." You said in such a shaky voice, he was almost concerned. But he gently grabs the canvas, and finally, he turns it to reveal the drawing. He was... speechless. Absolutely speechless. Just standing there, appreciating what he's seeing. You stuttered, trying to get words out of your mouth.

"...as a way to express how much I'm thankful for everything you've done. You're an amazing attendant, and I wanted to repay you somehow. W-well, other than using money." You awkwardly laughed, fidgeting with your fingers.

Lycaon continues to silently admire your work of him. You captured his features so well; the colors were so nice to look at, the pose, the lighting... it was so beautiful. He always appreciates the time and effort you put into your artwork. Secretly, he has been going to your workspace at night to admire all of the work you've done. He couldn't help but laugh once he saw how red your face was.

"My sincere apologies, master. But if I may ask, what are you trying to say?" He asked, almost in a teasing matter. Oh, he knows.

You panicked, so overwhelmed by the situation at hand. A part of you is trying to come up with lies, but ultimately, you gave in.

After taking a deep breath, you officially admitted your true feelings. Well, in the simplest way possible. You couldn't help but cringe at what you've said. This is so embarrassing, you thought.

Lycaon smiled, looking back at the painting to caress the sides of the canvas. He chuckled once more.

"What an astonishing way to express such feelings towards someone. I must say, master, I'm truly impressed."

The thiren carefully puts the canvas on a small table next to him, then he walks towards you. Gently grabbing your hand.

"As for what are my thoughts regarding all of this," he then proceeds to kiss the back of your hand. You jumped to his action, watching every move he made. He looked back at you softly.

There you heard it—the words that'd make you fall to the ground instantly.

"I'd be delighted to be more than an attendant for you, my dear."

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

No worries if not x

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

Warning: Angst/mention of death/Blood/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary: Request!

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run

run

run

run

Her breathing burned her chest as sticks and stones dug into her skin. The branches from the big, tall trees ripped her skin apart as she tried to fight the demons chasing her.

It has been raining for hours, and the lack of clothes that wrapped around her body did not protect her from the cold air.

"Just leave me alone," she cried as her body was slowly giving up on her. The lack of water and food from the past week was now catching up to her as she felt her body shut down.

Her vision was clear. Thank God for Omegas having super sight and smell, but that wasn't helping her at all as she made it down the forest.

They already made her loose enough; the pain in between her legs and womb was evidence of just how much she had lost.

She was close. She was close.

She couldn't hear their footsteps anymore, and their scent was getting even lighter than before, but still she knew she had to keep going or else they would catch up to her and track her blood down.

It was like the thunder in the sky was now overcrowding her senses, as all she could do was fall to the ground. She was scared. Who wouldn't be, but the sound made it 10x worse.

She was close. She was close.

The familiarity of her surroundings made her crawl. If she could just get to the village. If she could just get someone's attention, it would help save her life but even her body couldn't allow this. Her screams, obviously useless as she fell back to the ground.

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When Chan felt his heart tighten he decided to ignore it knowing there was no way possible for her to be able to get through the bond. He just knew he was probably being paranoid and his brain was playing with his feelings.

"Where you going, Hyung?" Felix asked, looking at his pack alpha.

"I'm going to patrol the area; I feel something wrong," Chan simply replied, removing his shirt.

"I'll come with you," Felix replied quickly, getting up. He knew Chan had a lot on his mind, and he simply didn't think if he went out there he would be safe at all.

"No," he snapped. "I'm not losing another omega to those rogues," he growled. Felix instinctively took a step back with wide eyes. His sweet lemon scent turning sour, "Fuck, I'm sorry, Lix, for snapping. I just can't put you in harm's way," he quickly pulled him into a hug, making sure to scent him and calm him down.

"It's okay, baby." He knew Chan didn't mean it; it was just that the week had been so tough on all of them, especially him. "Hyung, you now think it's too dangerous to be out there alone,'

"Fine, I'll take Leeknow and Changbin." He gaveup. His eyes met Felix's, and his alpha couldn't help but feel like a failure. All his omegas had been in pain ever since Y/N's disappearance, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was any God out there to help put out the fire.

"You know none of us blame you, Chan," Felix's hand lays onto his cheek while softly carressing it. "She'll come back to us, I promise." He whispered, putting their forheads together.

"I can't talk about this anymore; I'll see you in a bit." He looked away, shutting his eyes as he held back the tears. His hands slowly land on Felix's 5-month-old baby bump before kissing it and making his way out the door.

Felix couldn't help but let a few tears run down his cheek. He wished the alphas could understand that they had no fault in this but he only knew they would be better if she came home.

Once Chan stood outside, he let out a loud howl, and a few minutes later, Leeknow and Changbin ran down the stairs, passing Felix and running away in the night.

By the time they catch up to Bangchan, he's already shifed. His black fur shone in the nighttime moonlight.

Wait up, love. Minho called out through the bond as he tried to catch up.

Where are we going? Changbin asked, panting.

Someone's here; I need you to patrol the territory line, Chan responded with a growl.

Minho and Changbin didn't want to argue with their pack leader. He had been paranoid for the past week, and they couldn't blame him. They had taken something that was his right in front of him. They would be ashamed to watch that happen again, so they didn't complain, thinking that maybe it would also make them feel better if they checked things out.

I'll take the east side, Changbin said before taking off in the cold night.

I'll do west Leeknow replied before nudging at Chan with his snout. Everything will be okay, was the last thing he said before taking off in the night.

Chan growled. Nothing was okay. Not until everyone was back in one piece. Be safe; use the bond if you see anything, he told them before heading south.

The village was still awake, and Chan knew that some kids would be out playing, so he wasn't shocked when he saw a bunch of kids playing near the territory line but he was very angry. Anyone in the pack knew that kids weren't allowed this out in the woods, but yet it seemed like they didn't want to listen.

"Channie-Oppa!" One of the youngest screech for him. He instantly picks up on her, scared. His alpha instincts kick in hoping none of the kids are hurt.

"Channie oppa quickly! You have to see this," another girl screeched; she was one of the oldest. Chan made sure to know everyone in his 65-person pack; it was his duty.

His steps were quick as he made his way to the children. They were circling around something, and he let out a growl. They all quickly take steps away, knowing their pack alpha was just being protective over them.

What happened, little ones? He said through the bond to communicate with them.

"Its luna-ssi! We were going hunting and we found her. We can't carry her, and mom said she was getting help."

Did they just say Luna? as in Y/n? He's heart skips a beat before he instantly shifts back to his human form and makes his way into the middle. There she lay. There she lay. His luna, his girl, his mate that was taken from him. She was here, and she was back, but she was in horrible conditions.

His hands gripped at her body, the blood soaking into his skin as he let out a painful howl for.

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When Minho and Changbin had heard the howl, they knew something terrible had happened. They couldn't even get through the bond, yet they felt all the overwhelming emotions.

What happened, Hyung? Leeknow urged but got no response.

Talk to us, im almost to you, what is it? Changbin begged as well.

y-y/n, Chan let out a cry that almost knocked out I.N., who was at home trying to calm the situation down.

Changbin had never thought he would run this fast in his life; nobody knew, but here they were beating time.

It's only a 5-minute run before their right by his side. When they shift, their eyes are glowing. Anger and hurt is all they feel.

"Get the kids away; they can't see this," Chan instructs his second in command, who is instantly on it.

Leeknow leads the children, who are all worried and crying for their Luna. Who would do such a thing to her? Was this why she left a few days ago?

"Will she be okay?" They cry to him as he holds them tight.

"Yes, hush now. Go on home. It's late," He encourages as he walks with them.

"Chan, we need to get her to Hyunjin, now." Changbin was straight to work. Trying to gather his pack alpha off the floor. Chan studied her face as he carried her.

"Come on, y/n, come to me," he cried. His hands gripping onto her as if it would give her a sense of comfort.

"Fuck Changbin," he cried again. His eyes studying her body. Her bump was gone.

She lost the baby.

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Taglist: @ihrtlix@bowsnbang@katsukis1wife@thegingerthatwaited@thicccurls

@xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog @ivrespace

@galaxy4489 @purplepursepaint @catlove83 @sillystormsstuff @iwuberic

@cocofia143 @royal-shinigami @virluna148 @galaxycatdrawz @memersanonymous

@skz-stay13 @seungminsbest @hogwartslife64 @sinfulfic @hyunnesblog

@maisyyyyyy @cluelessred3 @leezanetheofficial @cocofia143 @lemonn015

@kkamismom12 @mei0packet @igetcarriedawaywithyou @hyuneyeon @iris-iiridescent

@mbioooo0000 @newbbystay @hanniemylovelyquokka @jc003 @kokinu09

@aalexyuuuhm @kenaicantcommunicate @fiestaplum-skz

(open: i believe i've added everyone but if you don't see your @ please comment down below)

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc & arthur leclerc love triangle, pt. 2

pt. 1

warnings: none other than angst?

a/n: a million years later here is part 2 but it’s not over ladies and gentlemen! i hope it doesn’t suck lol. part 3 will come. also i’ve now added charlotte siné as the fc for practical purposes!

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Day 4

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As I opened the door, terrified at who I was going to see behind it, I met Charles’ bloodshot eyes staring daggers into mine.

“Y/N, let’s talk, please. I screwed up, but let me explain,” he quickly said before I could even mutter a word.

I was still as speechless as I had been last night. Without a word, I moved aside to let him in my room, but he shook his head and insisted on talking to me at the beach. I just obliged, trying my best to be quiet around the house so as to not wake anyone up.

As soon as we arrived on the shore, Charles invited me to sit down and I once again just obliged. My heart was pounding on my ears and I felt like it would jump out of my body at any second.

“I feel like I should start at the beginning,” Charles said, while I looked to the sea instead of looking at him.

“I’ve always loved you. There has always been something about you that comforts me and makes me happy. I just didn’t realize how deep it went until last summer, when I realized that you kissing Antoine ruined the entire season for me.”

I tried to recall any reaction from Charles when I hooked up with Antoine last year that could’ve been a sign, but I found nothing in my memories. I was too busy sulking over the fact that he didn’t and would never like me, but I had been proved wrong 365 days later. The words were in my head but they didn’t make sense. Why would Charles Leclerc like me, much less love me?

“I’ve tried to avoid it, I’ve tried to think nothing of it, I’ve tried to deny it and it’s been no use.”

The irony of me doing the same thing for years was not lost on me. How I have pined for years not realizing he spent some of that time feeling the same way was borderline funny.

“Will you please look at me?” Charles asked with a hint of desperation in his voice, making it impossible for me to deny his request even if I knew any resolve or strength I had left in me would evaporate the minute my eyes met his.

The butterflies in my stomach felt like a swarm of wasps, and I’m sure the blush in my face evidenced it. Charles’ green eyes, the object of all my hidden wishes for as long as I could recall, stared into mine looking to decipher my emotions.

I wished I could say he found nothing but love, but in between all those beautiful feelings of loving and being loved in return, I could still sense a wretched feeling of disappointment.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” a stronger voice than expected called him out. All this time he had to know I felt the same way, but he let me believe there wasn’t a chance in hell he could care about me beyond a friendship.

“It took me too long to even understand it. Even then, I couldn’t justify changing your life on a crush, or hurt you and ruin it all. I still don’t know if I can justify it, but I know I can’t stand it anymore. I love you and I’m done pretending I don’t, or that you don’t love me too.”

When I searched into his eyes, all I could find was sincerity. And it was enough for me to jump into the deep end, leaning closer to him in hopes he would initiate the kiss I’ve desperately wanted for far too much time.

He granted my wishes, placing both of his hands on my neck to connect our lips. It was just like I imagined it.

Soft, passionate, unrushed, warm. I felt the fireworks that everyone speaks of go off in my head, and I just knew Charles felt them too.

As we pulled away to breathe, struggling to even think of ever separating me from him ever again, Charles smiled brightly.

“Can you say you love me too, mon cœur?” he asked so prettily I could coo at him.

“I love you, Charles Leclerc,” I obliged, because how could I say no to him?

“And I love you, Y/N L/N,” he replied, smiling even bigger, and kissing me even better.

Our bubble of a newfound love lasted a while, but was eventually meant to break when I received a text from Arthur.

————————————————————————

————————————————————————

The conversation about Arthur with Charles wasn’t the hard part at all. The older brother brushed the kiss off as a drunken mistake, and was a little too confident on who my choice would be.

The conversation about Charles with Arthur would be the hard part, and I didn’t even have time to settle down in my bed after the rollercoaster of emotions I had just gone through when Arthur barged in.

He looked happy to see me, and it broke my heart.

In trying to find the words to say I couldn’t be with him, and before I could mutter them, he hugged me.

“I’ve been trying to find you all this time, where have you been chérie?” Arthur smiled, but it quickly faded once he realized my energy wasn’t the same.

“Arthur…”

“Chérie, don’t say it was a mistake because you know it wasn’t. Fuck my brother, you know that this is right.”

“I’m so sorry…” I began and pushed back further away from him, as if my next words would hurt him any less because of it. “Charles and I spoke, and we have realized our feelings for each other…” I looked down, cowardly, unable to face his reaction. “You know I’ve loved him forever and I am just so sorry for leading you on.”

Like it always happened between us, I didn’t have to look at him, and he didn’t have to say anything. I just knew that we were done.

He stormed out of the room.

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charles_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her close friends stories

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

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[cassielovesdeadwizards]

Mistletoe | R.Lupin x reader

| harrypotter x aunt!reader | remuslupin x fem!reader | golden trio era |

Synopsis: after the death of your brother, you take in your nephew as your own, shutting everyone else out in your grief. However, once you’re reunited with an old friend in Harry’s third year, old feelings start to come to the surface as you help each other through your grief.

WARNINGS: mentions of dea!h, mentions of grief. (In this story, let’s say Voldemorts curse bounced off Harry and killed moldy voldy for good, Harry has a normal childhood)

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

“Thank you, for standing with me.” You say, watching as the train leaves the station for the fourth time since your nephew had been accepted into Hogwarts. “It’s always so hard watching him go.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know that.” Remus told you, placing a tentative hand on your arm as you play with your hands worriedly.

It was the same overwhelming anxiety year after year, watching the only family you have left, the only part of James you have left, slip further and further away into the distance.

You and your brother were inseparable, known quite rarely as James and y/n, but more commonly as the Potter Twins. It was a rare occurrence to see one of you without the other, especially at school.

You weren’t with him when he died. No, you were in your own house, washing dishes by hand, because you were to bored to do it by magic. You weren’t with him, but you felt it. Like a knife through the chest, you felt the part of your soul that belonged to him fracture into a million pieces. Your heart that matched his break and turn cold as the glass you held fell to the floor.

You knew part of yourself had died, but not which part.

Not until you reached the Potter’s house.

Not until you found yourself screaming until your throat was raw, begging your brother to wake up.

When you finally heard the crying of a baby over your own sobs, you knew you had to take him before Dumbledore got his hands on him, taking him away from you forever.

“Hello, little one, Auntie y/n’s going to keep you safe.” You whispered, your voice only a fracture of what it used to be.

You tried not to look towards the lifeless form of what used to be one of your greatest friends.

You raised Harry as if he was your own, teaching him everyday about the parents he lost, because you would be damned if James Potter would ever be forgotten.

“I know it’s not, but still, thank you.” You tell him, before turning your head to look into his kind eyes. “You can come over, if you like? Despite what Harry might have told you, I’m a good cook.”

“That would be nice.” Remus chucked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Sitting with Remus at your kitchen table, you started to realise just how much you had missed him.

“I let him keep the map, last year.” He told you, a small grin tugging at his lips as he sipped his tea.

“Remus Lupin, despite the years that have passed you still have some mischief in you.” You tease, sipping your own coffee.

“Well, once a marauder, always a marauder. Isn’t that what we all used to say?” He retorted, and you genuinely smile.

A rare sighting since the passing of your brother, a sight only Harry has known.

You reach over and take his calloused hand in yours, brushing your thumb over a scar that lay there.

“I’m so sorry that I pushed you away, I never meant-“

“No, no, none of that. I won’t have you apologising for the way you chose to grieve. You lost your brother, and took on the responsibility of raising his child all in a matter of hours. I wasn’t what you needed then, and I understood that completely.”

That’s something about Remus that you had always loved. No matter how wronged he was, he had always found it within himself to understand. No matter how much somebody hurt him, his empathy would always shine through.

“What about what you needed? You lost everybody, and I shut you out.” You said, your confession leaves with shame and regret. He held your hand tighter.

“What I needed was to know that you and Harry were safe. And I knew that. I managed my grief in my own ways, but I managed nonetheless.”

Something else about Remus that you loved, was the way he held eye contact when he spoke. As if people would stop hearing him if he looked away. His eyes held onto yours now, sending secret messages of reassurance that he can’t speak with words.

He smiled, picking up his tea once more to take a sip. You wondered if he had had somebody to hold all this time, if somebody had been there to hold his hand as his world fell apart around him.

As you look at him, you remember the small school crush you used to have on him while at Hogwarts. The way you used to purposely sit next to him in the great hall so he’d have to lean down to talk to you, since he was so tall.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I had a bit of a crush on you in school.” You say, smiling down at you drink. He scoffs in amusement.

“Me? Why on earth would you have a crush on me?” He said, as if the idea was absolutely preposterous.

“Because you were always so kind. No matter how angry you were, you never spoke to me with anything other than kindness. And you’re tall, Godric knows that makes any girl fold,” you laugh. “And I thought you were pretty.”

“Pretty?” He looks scared to ask, as if the answer would somehow sting.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought your beauty was more soft than other boys,” you look into his eyes, seeing the same boy you loved in your school years. “The other girls would always tell me how gorgeous Sirius was, and he was, but I was always too busy staring at you to notice.”

Maybe it was the fact that you finally had a soul your own age to talk to. Or maybe it was the familiarity of talking to an old friend, someone you once spent every waking moment with. But you told him everything, about how lonely you’ve been, about how awful you feel about hating Harry’s similarities to James, about how much you love Harry and how it hurts to not be by his side at all times.

You tell him everything.

And he listens to every word.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Remus came over almost everyday until Harry was due to come home for Christmas.

He laughed with you, held you while you cried, and grieved with you. The way the two of you should have done all those years ago.

It felt as if the twelve years you were eleven years you were apart never happened.

“Auntie y/n! Over here!” Your nephew called, carrying his case for the holidays with him.

“Harry! Oh, I’ve missed you!” You say, placing your hands on his cheeks and kissing the crown of his head.

“It’s only been a couple of months.” He says, smiling at your antics,

“I know, I know, but you know I have no one to fret over while you’re away.”

Harry hugs you, the kind of hug he knows you need once you see him again.

Harry knows his Aunt struggles to be away from him, he also knows that she thinks he doesn’t know. But since a young age Harry has noticed the way he Aunt always hugs him tighter in the mornings, as if being away in her dreams was far too long, and how she always holds his hand while out and about, and how she sends weekly letter just to check he’s doing alright.

And he replies to every single one, because while others would see it as suffocating, Harry feels nothing to affection and gratitude towards his aunt, because he may be all she had, but she’s all he has in return. And if a letter a week soothes her mind, he has no quarrels in doing that.

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Harry was beyond happy that Remus would be spending Christmas with them. To him, Remus was an extension of his Father, one more person he could ask to tell him stories and memories of the man he never truly met.

You would always tell him anything he wanted to know, but deep down you knew that he knew it pained you. And so he doesn’t ask much of you, but you wish he did.

“Did he get into trouble at school? My dad?” He asked at the dinner table, casting looks toward Remus and you.

You let a laugh slip past your lips, and you hold your hand to your mouth.

“Harry, your father invented trouble.” Remus told him, smiling fondly at the memories.

“Oh, come one. You talk as if you weren’t a step behind him at all times! More often than not, if my brother was in trouble, so were we!” You laughed, for the first time remembering your brother with joy rather than grief.

“And you talk as if you weren’t the mastermind behind most of that mischief.” He says, casting you a look of teasing and humour.

You gasp in faux shock, clasping your chest and looking towards your nephew.

“Absolutely false, Harry. I was no trouble in school.”

Harry laughed then, “Professor McGonagall says otherwise.”

You stop and snap your attention to your Nephew as Remus laughs, no longer able to eat.

“What?” You say, a little panicked, mostly laughing.

Harry watches as his Aunt and who he now sees as an Uncle playfully bicker and argue about who was more trouble to who, and wonders when they’ll realise just how in love they are.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You’re clearing the table after Christmas dinner, stacking plates into piles and wrapping left overs in foil. Harry had retreated to his room to tend to his new quidditch set before the traditional Christmas movie night before bed, and y/n took it as a great opportunity to clear up.

A hand touched the small of her back, moving her slightly to the left as he squeezed by, taking the plates from her hands.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ve got it.” He says softly, sending her a small wink before carrying them over to the sink.

“Let me do something then, because you did most of the cooking and now you won’t let me clean.” You complained, not a single trace of discontent in your voice.

He turns to you, humour in his eyes but a frown on his lips.

“And what if I want to do all of this, then what?”

“Then you’ll just have to deal with me helping.” You say, stepping closer. You’re standing in front of him now, holding a cup full of cutlery in one hand and a plate of leftovers in the other. “Mr Lupin, I believe you’re blocking my way to the fridge.”

“Oh am I? Thats a shame, I guess I’ll have to take these off your hands then.” He says, taking the plate and cutlery and placing them on the side.

You’re about to argue when he turns back to you, much closer than before. “Let me help you.”

“You’ve done more than enough.” You say in a small voice.

“And what if I want to do more?” His hand reaches up and places a strand of your dark hair behind your ear, but his hand doesn’t fall, it stays put against your cheek.

You look up to see a branch of mistletoe growing from your ceiling, right between the two of you.

His eyes never leave your face, more accurately your lips as your breathing gets heavier.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so small you barely hear it. All you can do is nod as his other hand is placed ever so gently on your waist, pulling you in.

He places his lips on yours, and it’s the most gentle kiss, but you feel the weight of a thousand words that have never been said behind it, pushing him closer.

To Remus’ surprise, it was you who intensified the kiss, placing a hand behind his head and pushing further into him. When you broke apart to breathe, he placed his forehead onto yours and closed his eyes.

“I think I’ve loved you for a while now, Miss Potter.”

“I’ve loved you always, Mr Lupin.”

What neither of the two seemed to notice, was their nephew sitting at the top of his stairs tucking his wand back into his pocket, closing the book about growing magical plants with spells.

[motthe]

Hey! May i request a mean, cold caitlyn x undercity fem!reader, angst, set in the current season where caitlyn obviously goes crazy and basically the reader confronts caitlyn abt only being used as a mean for caitlyn to blow off steam and a distraction for caitlyn to forget abt vi, and maybe the reader also confesses her feelings despite finding it wrong due to caitlyn's actions against zaun, and caitlyn is basically like, too bad so sad i'm not changing for you lmfao

i hope this is angst enough!!! first time writing caitlyn so she might be a bit ooc. apologies!!!

warnings: implied sexual content, emotional abuse, toxic behaviors, and slight spoilers for season 2 arc 2!!!

You were used to being second best.

Vi always won in the old arcade, in a fight. But you both lost the night of the explosion.

Sometimes you wished you hadn’t survived, waking up alone and forgotten with a shattered arm and a broken family. Ekko found you lumbering around the lanes and through the years you both watched Powder’s descent into Jinx.

When Vi showed up asking questions with Pilty, you disregard Ekko’s orders to shadow. You had nothing else to lose.

Caitlyn made the most sense. Her plan gave you hope.

Shit hit the fan as it always did, though. You didn't miss the looks she gave Vi and you knew from the start there was never going to be something between you two.

She kept giving though. You accept being an enforcer—you’re tired of the Lanes, of fighting for good people who just end up dying. Here you could make a real difference for Zaun. Caitlyn listened and even with her hatred of Jinx, she didn’t wish bad upon the Undercity. You knew that.

She was grieving. It made her colder, more distant. Vi fought that.

And suddenly, she’s gone. That seat she took between you and Caitlyn was empty, and Caitlyn filled it. She listened to you more than ever. You told her how you understand what she’s going through because you do. You lost your family a long time ago.

Even with that voice screaming in the back of your head to get a grip, you let her pull you into her place after a late night planning. You let her pull you into her bed.

You were fucked the moment she landed a punch when you met her. You didn’t blame her—you had light feet.

But she stopped listening. That cruelty you understood, masked under grief, it started settling in. She didn’t want to talk before she grabbed your hand, didn’t ask before shoving you into her mattress.

And still, you went willingly.

“You can talk to me,” you whispered.

Caitlyn paused as she was throwing her shirt on. When you went back to your place, she never stayed.

“What?” she breathed.

“You’ve gotten…distant. We don’t talk like we used to, we just…” You ran a hand over your rumpled sheets. “You can talk to me, y’know?”

She shrugged, resuming dressing. “I have nothing to say.”

“Cait—”

“Why can’t you just accept this?” she sighed, shoulders tensing as she forced her feet into her boots. “Things are fine. We have a good time, we get work done.”

“Is that all you want?” Something shook in your chest. “Just a good time?”

She looked at you then, eyebrow raised. “Yes. What did you think?”

You were silent. It said more than you could.

“Did you think this was serious?” she asked, tone cold. “We talked about how much we both hated Vi—you said I should let off some steam.”

“I also said a lot of other things,” you reminded her.

“What? How you thought I was the most beautiful thing when you first saw me?” she scoffed, pushing off the bed.

Your chest caved in.

“I thought you knew what this was,” she muttered. “I don’t need a repeat.”

“I just wanted to help,” you whispered, words shaking. “I-I really like you, Cait.”

“And I loved Vi!” she yelled, whirling around. “I thought you wanted this! I thought this was about doing what we needed to get it out of our systems so we could focus on actual important things!”

“So I’m not important?” you sniffed, unable to hold back the tears. “None of this meant anything to you?”

“No,” she huffed, shaking her head, “you were a distraction. You were always just a distraction. Now I feel like a fool, messing around when I should’ve been focusing on work. Would’ve saved me this mess.”

“Caitlyn,” you sobbed.

“Take a few days,” she muttered, grabbing the rest of her things as she opened the door. “If you still want to be an enforcer, you need to get your shit together before you come back to work.”

The door slammed. Something fell off the wall and shattered but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

When you returned to work, Officer Nolan was sitting in your seat, speaking with Caitlyn about plans. A few days later, you watch them leave the building together, Nolan grabbing Caitlyn’s hand and laughing as she pulled her around the corner.

You were used to being second best.

But now you weren’t even second.

You were never a part of the game to begin with.

[scribbly-squid]

Anyone, Anything

Lucifer x F!Imp Reader

Lucifer's world is thrown into chaos when his wife, Lilith, announces she needs a break from their relationship. Her sudden departure leaves him reeling, clutching their infant daughter, Charlie, in his arms as he battles feelings of betrayal and heartbreak. Struggling to reconcile his emotions, he finds himself thrust into the challenges of parenthood alone - until he meets a fellow Hellborn who understands his struggles.

🌻I finally got this chapter finished. It took too long in my opinion, I kept rereading it and didn’t like how some parts sounded. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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Chapter 1

“What do you think happened?”

You glanced over at Carrie, a fellow imp maid who’d become your closest companion since you started working at the Morningstar Manor. She stood with one hand on her hip, a mischievous gleam in her yellow eyes.

“About what?” you asked, your tone light as you continued sweeping the vast banquet hall. The gilded chandeliers overhead sparkled like constellations, but the heavy silence in the manor was impossible to ignore.

Carrie groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “You know…” She glanced around, making sure no one else was nearby before leaning in closer. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “About Lilith leaving.”

Your movements slowed just slightly, the broom catching against the polished marble floor. You straightened and looked up at her, feigning indifference. “I don’t know.”

Carrie narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the handle of her feather duster. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed anything weird? The arguments? The way Lucifer’s been stomping around like a walking thunderstorm?”

You straightened, gripping the broom handle a little tighter. The mention of Lilith’s departure made your stomach twist. Of course you’d noticed the shift in the manor’s atmosphere—the tension so thick it felt like it could suffocate you. Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell and the most fearsome being you’d ever encountered, had been anything but his usual self.

“I try not to get involved in things that don’t concern me,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Carrie let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t concern you? Girl, everything concerns you when you live under the same roof as him. Especially when you’re cleaning up after his messes.” She gestured vaguely to the ornate table behind you.

You sighed and turned back to your sweeping, but the knots in your chest only tightened. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t thought about it—hell, you’d overheard more than you cared to admit. The shouting matches, the muffled sobs, the tension that seemed to saturate the very air of the manor. Lilith’s departure hadn’t been a single event. It was a slow unraveling, weeks of barely-hidden turmoil that had finally snapped.

And then there was Charlie, their three-month-old daughter, who’d been thrust into Lucifer’s care. You’d seen him with her a few times. He tried, that much was clear, but he looked… lost. Out of place.

But it wasn’t your place to talk about it.

“I think it’s best we stick to our jobs,” you said carefully, focusing on the rhythmic sweep of the broom. “We’re here to clean, not to speculate.”

Carrie snorted, muttering something you couldn’t quite catch under her breath. But for once, she dropped the subject, moving off to dust one of the massive chandeliers.

The two of you worked in silence for a while, the occasional clang of cleaning tools echoing off the high ceilings. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of Charlie’s cries reached your ears. It tugged at something deep inside you—a strange mixture of pity and unease.

You shook the thought away, focusing on the task at hand. The Morningstar family’s affairs were none of your business.

“That should do it.” Carrie’s voice broke the silence. She stood back, brushing a stray feather from her duster as she surveyed the gleaming banquet hall. “Banquet hall’s clean. Mister Winfred will be satisfied.” She pulled a crumpled note from the pocket of her apron and squinted at the next item on the list. “Next up… the parlor room in the west wing.”

You groaned, leaning against your broom for support. “Are you kidding me? We’re on the complete opposite side of the manor! Isn’t there something else we can do here in the east wing?”

Carrie scanned the list, her lips moving silently as she read. After a moment, she shook her head. “Nope. Everything else is west wing. Looks like we’re walking.”

“Great,” you muttered, dragging the broom behind you as you followed her toward the door. The thought of trekking across the sprawling manor was exhausting enough, but the unspoken tension in the air made it worse. The weight of it pressed down on your shoulders like the suffocating heat of Hell itself.

You paused at the doorway, casting one last glance back at the room. The banquet hall gleamed, every surface spotless and perfect. But it was hard to ignore the feeling that no amount of cleaning could fix the fractures running through the Morningstar Manor.

As you and Carrie made your way toward the west wing, the faint sounds of Charlie’s crying grew louder, echoing through the long, marble-lined corridors. The noise tugged at your heart, each sob sharp and insistent, like a tiny dagger pricking your conscience. Before long, you found yourselves passing her nursery, the door slightly ajar. The room inside was dim, but you could make out the faint glow of a nightlight and the shadow of her crib.

Your hoovesteps slowed, hesitation creeping in. Should you check on her? The idea of Charlie crying alone made your stomach churn. You stopped, your hand twitching at your side as if to reach for the door.

But before you could take another step, Carrie grabbed the sleeve of your uniform, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to her, confused, only to find her shaking her head firmly.

“What if His Majesty got the wrong idea?” she whispered, her tone serious.

Her words sent a jolt through you. The last thing you wanted was to be caught somewhere you didn’t belong, especially by Lucifer Morningstar himself. You nodded reluctantly, even as every maternal instinct in you screamed to go inside.

Ignoring the pull in your chest, you forced yourself to follow Carrie, leaving the sounds of Charlie’s wails behind. Each step away from the nursery felt heavier than the last, but you kept your head down and your focus on the path ahead.

By the time you reached the parlor in the west wing, the cries still echoed in your mind, no matter how far you walked. Carrie was already at work, humming softly as she dusted an elaborate set of shelves lined with ancient books and strange artifacts. But you... you couldn’t focus. Your hands gripped the broom tightly, your tail flicking with unease as your thoughts spiraled.

“Hey, you alright?”

Carrie’s voice snapped you back to reality. You glanced up at her, startled, your tail instinctively curling around your ankles as if to ground you.

“Yeah,” you said softly, nodding. You forced a small smile, hoping it was convincing enough. “Just a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Carrie raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Don’t let it get to you,” she said, returning to her dusting. “Things in this place are always messy, one way or another.”

Her words lingered as you turned back to your work, sweeping the intricate patterns of the parlor’s marble floor. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, the image of Charlie’s tiny, helpless form wouldn’t leave your mind. And somewhere, deep down, you wondered if anyone else in this entire manor felt the way you did.

“I’m fine… just noticed we left one of the buckets with some of our supplies back there,” you said, forcing a casual tone. Setting down the duster in your hand, you straightened up and glanced toward the door.

Carrie paused mid-dust, arching an eyebrow. “Really? I didn’t notice anything missing.”

“Well, I did,” you replied, your voice steady as you moved toward the exit. “I’ll go fetch them. Wouldn’t want Mister Winfred finding out we’ve left unsightly items lying around for guests or, worse, His Majesty to see.”

Before Carrie could object or ask questions, you slipped out of the parlor and into the hallway, your heart racing. Retracing your steps toward the banquet hall, you couldn’t shake the growing unease gnawing at you.

The sound of soft humming drifted down the corridor as you neared the nursery again, making you slow your pace. You stared at the slightly ajar door, your ears twitching to catch the tune. It wasn’t the usual stillness you associated with the nursery—it was soothing, low, almost angelic.

*He must have heard her crying and came to lull her back to sleep,* you thought, relaxing slightly.

Just as you turned to leave, Charlie’s wails broke through again, this time louder, more desperate. The sound startled you, and you froze in place.

“Oh, golly, what’s wrong, sweetie? You were falling back asleep…” Lucifer’s voice came next, carrying a hint of panic beneath his typically smooth tone.

Against your better judgment, your feet moved toward the door. Your curiosity—and that unshakable maternal instinct—got the better of you. Peering cautiously through the small opening, you caught sight of him. Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself, was pacing back and forth across the nursery. He cradled Charlie in his arms, his movements careful yet frantic as he hummed a soothing tune under his breath. His usually pristine suit was slightly disheveled, his bowtie loosened and his hair tousled from running his fingers through it.

It was a sight you never thought you’d witness. The fearsome ruler, looking utterly normal as he tried to console his infant daughter.

For a brief moment, you felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for him. He wasn’t just the all-powerful king you served; he was a father fumbling his way through the chaos Lilith had left behind.

But before you could linger any longer, a sharp throat-clearing behind you jolted you back to reality. Your entire body stiffened, and you turned slowly, dread pooling in your stomach.

Mister Winfred stood there, his gaze like daggers as he appraised you. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his posture was as rigid as always.

“And what exactly are you doing here, loitering outside His Majesty’s nursery?” he asked, his voice icy and clipped.

Your tail instinctively curled around your leg as you stumbled over your words. “I-I was just… I thought I heard—”

“Save your excuses,” he snapped, his lips pressing into a thin, unforgiving line. “You’re not paid to eavesdrop on matters that do not concern you. Get back to your duties before I report this breach of discipline to His Majesty.”

Your stomach dropped at the threat, the weight of his words hitting you like a blow. Bowing your head quickly, you stammered, “Y-Yes, Mister Winfred. Right away.”

Without another glance back at the nursery, you hurried down the hallway, your hooves clicking against the polished floor.

[ . . . ]

The cries echoed through the hall, dragging Lucifer from a rare, deep sleep. Groggy and disoriented, he reached instinctively for the space beside him—only to find it cold and empty. His fingers brushed the silken sheets, and a sharp ache of loss filled his chest. Lilith’s absence was still fresh, raw enough that every reminder felt like a blade twisting. With a weary sigh, he slipped his hooves into his soft duck slippers, the absurdity of the gesture lost on him as he accepted the tug back into harsh reality.

It had been less than forty eight hours since Lilith left, yet it felt like an eternity. The once vibrant and commanding aura of the Morningstar Manor now felt muted, its halls too quiet except for the cries of their infant daughter. His responsibilities as a father weighed heavily on his shoulders, and sleep had become a fleeting luxury. Whenever he closed his eyes, he was haunted by memories of Lilith’s departure, her face devoid of the warmth he once knew, her parting words cold and final.

Dragging himself down the dimly lit hallway, his tail trailed limply along the floor. The cries grew louder as he neared Charlie’s nursery, each sob pulling at a part of him he hadn’t known existed. This wasn’t just unfamiliar—it was uncharted territory. Fatherhood, single parenthood, the raw ache of abandonment… Every piece of it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

With a resigned exhale, Lucifer pushed open the nursery door and stepped inside. The soft glow of a nightlight bathed the room in a warm, golden hue, casting shadows on the walls adorned with delicate celestial designs. His daughter lay in her crib, her tiny face red and scrunched as she wailed, her tiny fists flailing. The sight softened something in him, a reminder that no matter how lost he felt, she was even more helpless.

“Alright, apple pie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as he scooped her up with practiced gentleness. “I’m here now.”

Charlie’s cries quieted slightly as he began to rock her, pacing the length of the nursery. His movements were slow and deliberate, a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside him. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a bottle of milk, its surface glinting faintly in the dim light. Holding her securely with one arm, he warmed the bottle with a soft, golden glow from his palm.

Once it was ready, he offered it to her, and she latched on eagerly, her sobs dissolving into quiet, rhythmic gulps. The room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of her feeding. Lucifer sank into the rocking chair by the crib, cradling her close as he watched her eyes begin to flutter shut. A tender smile flickered across his lips, though it was weighed down by the shadows in his gaze.

“At least you’re still here,” he whispered, stroking her fine hair. “You’re the one thing keeping me sane in this mess.”

The quiet was broken by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. Lucifer’s head snapped toward the door, his crimson eyes narrowing dangerously. His aura darkened instinctively, a protective edge sharpening in his voice.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” he growled, his tone low and menacing.

Standing in the doorway, poised and unflinching, was Winfred. The imp butler’s expression remained neutral, but his piercing gaze met Lucifer’s without wavering. “My apologies for intruding, Your Majesty,” he began evenly, his hands clasped behind his back. “But I thought it prudent to check in, given recent… changes in the household.”

Lucifer’s annoyance flared, though he quickly turned his attention back to Charlie, who was drifting into a light slumber. He adjusted her position slightly, his movements careful and deliberate. “You have a habit of showing up uninvited, Winfred,” he muttered, his tone icy.

Winfred remained unfazed, his posture as rigid as ever. “A habit, perhaps, but a necessary one. With Lady Lilith gone and many of the staff following her or deserting their posts, someone must ensure that the manor—and its King—continues to function.”

At the mention of Lilith, Lucifer’s jaw tightened, and his tail flicked sharply against the floor. The betrayal still stung, even if he’d grown accustomed to hiding it. “The manor will survive,” he said curtly. “Hell will survive. Right now, she’s all that matters.”

His gaze dropped to Charlie, his voice softening instinctively as he held her close. For a moment, he wasn’t the King of Hell or the fearsome Morningstar; he was simply a father, cradling the one person who hadn’t abandoned him.

Winfred inclined his head, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, sir. However, there is a balance to be struck. Your responsibilities as a father are undeniable, but so are your duties as the ruler of Hell. Delegation, at least in part, may ease your burden.”

Lucifer exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. “And what do you propose, Winfred? That I hand her off to someone else? That I treat her as an inconvenience like—” He stopped himself, the words catching in his throat.

Winfred’s expression softened just slightly, his tone almost understanding. “No, sir. I propose finding someone trustworthy to assist you. Not to replace you, but to ensure that you can balance both roles. Hell may wait, but it won’t wait forever.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Charlie’s peaceful face, his tail curling protectively around the base of the chair. The thought of entrusting her care to anyone else gnawed at him, but he couldn’t ignore the truth in Winfred’s words.

“If you truly believe there’s someone capable of earning my trust, then perhaps,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less commanding. Rising from the rocking chair, he adjusted Charlie in his arms, her tiny form nestled against his chest. “But for now, leave us.”

Winfred bowed deeply, his movements fluid and respectful. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” With that, he turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving Lucifer alone in the golden glow of the nursery.

He looked down at Charlie, a rare, soft smile gracing his lips as he stroked her hair. “It’s just you and me now, apple pie,” he murmured. “And I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

[ . . . ]

Once you grabbed the bucket from the banquet hall, you made your way back to the parlor, your mind still reeling from the earlier conversation with Winfred. The butler’s words weighed heavy, and though you tried to shake them off, they lingered like an unwelcome shadow.

As you entered the parlor, Carrie was finishing dusting the last of the shelves. She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "Wasn’t sure when you’d be back," she said, her tone teasing.

"Sorry," you muttered, setting the bucket down. "I bumped into Winfred on the way there."

Carrie winced, her tail flicking nervously. "Oof. That explains the look on your face. What did the old grump want this time?"

You hesitated, debating how much to reveal. "Nothing much," you lied, grabbing a rag from the bucket and moving toward a nearby table. "Just reminded me to stay on task. You know how he is."

Carrie snorted, rolling her eyes. "Sounds about right. He’s always lurking around like he’s got nothing better to do than breathe down our necks."

She hopped down from the stool she’d been using to reach the higher shelves, dusting off her apron with exaggerated annoyance. "Last time, he scolded me for ‘improper posture’ while dusting. Posture! Who cares about posture when you’re cleaning?"

Her dramatic reenactment of Winfred’s scowl drew a genuine laugh from you, momentarily easing the tension you’d been carrying since your run-in with the butler.

"Alright," Carrie said, stretching her arms above her head. "We’ve got one last thing on the list—"

A knock at the door interrupted her, and both of you turned toward the sound.

Standing in the doorway was Guthrie, a cheerful imp who worked in the kitchen. He offered you both a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, ladies. Just checking in on how you’re doing."

Carrie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What? Winfred’s too busy, so he sent you to spy on us?"

Guthrie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not spying, no. Well, maybe a little. He’s rounding up what’s left of the staff for a meeting."

Your brows furrowed. "What for? Is someone in trouble?"

Carrie scoffed, her tail flicking dismissively. "When isn’t someone in trouble with that shriveled imp?"

Guthrie shifted awkwardly, glancing between the two of you. "I don’t know the details, but he specifically asked for everyone to gather. You two should come along."

Reluctantly, you exchanged a look with Carrie before following Guthrie out of the parlor and down the hall. The tension in the air thickened as you approached the kitchen, where the remaining servants had gathered. Whispers filled the room, but they fell silent when Winfred stepped onto a crate to address the group.

The butler’s stern gaze swept over the assembled staff, his hands clasped behind his back. "Thank you for arriving promptly," he began, his tone clipped and commanding.

"As many of you are aware, Lady Lilith is no longer residing in the manor. Some of you witnessed her departure; others have heard rumors. Regardless, this is a private matter, and discretion is paramount. His Majesty does not wish for this information to leave these walls."

A ripple of unease passed through the room. One of the younger imps raised a trembling hand. "But… what about the staff who left? Won’t they spread word about what happened?"

Winfred’s expression darkened, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Those who abandoned their posts have forfeited their loyalty to this household—and the protection it offers. His Majesty will address them in due time. For now, your focus should remain on your duties. His Majesty and young Miss Charlie are our priorities. Am I clear?"

A chorus of uneasy nods followed, though the tension in the room remained palpable.

"You are dismissed," Winfred said sharply, stepping down from the crate.

The staff began to disperse, their murmured conversations resuming as they filed out of the kitchen. You turned to leave with Carrie, but Winfred’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Y/N, a moment."

Your stomach dropped, and you exchanged a worried glance with Carrie before turning back to face the butler. "Yes, sir?"

Winfred regarded you with his usual composed demeanor, though his piercing gaze seemed to weigh you down. "You will assist His Majesty with Miss Charlie. Effective immediately."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you struggled to find your voice. "W-what? Why me? I’m just a maid—I barely know anything about…" You trailed off, unsure how to phrase it without sounding defiant.

"Precisely," Winfred replied, his tone unyielding. "You are unassuming, diligent, and discreet. His Majesty requires someone who can balance attentiveness with subtlety, and you have demonstrated those qualities."

You hesitated, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you’d signed up for. You’d come to the Morningstar Manor to escape your past, to provide for your son without drawing attention to yourself. Now, Winfred was thrusting you into the center of the Morningstars’ inner circle.

"But… I’m not sure I’m the right person for this," you said weakly.

Winfred tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening just enough to unsettle you. "You have a son, do you not? Five years old, if I’m not mistaken."

Your blood ran cold. "That’s none of your business," you said sharply, though your voice wavered.

The butler’s calm expression didn’t falter. "Perhaps not. But I believe your experience as a mother will serve you well in caring for Miss Charlie. You understand the stakes better than most."

Anger and fear churned in your chest. "You can’t just… use that against me!"

"I’m not using anything against you," Winfred said evenly. "I’m offering you an opportunity to prove your worth—to His Majesty, to this household, and to yourself."

You clenched your fists, glancing away. Images of your son filled your mind, his laughter, his smile. You’d made sacrifices to ensure his safety, to keep him hidden. Refusing this assignment could risk everything.

"Fine," you said quietly, your voice laced with reluctant resolve. "I’ll do it."

"Good," Winfred said with a curt nod. "You’ll begin immediately. His Majesty is in the nursery. Introduce yourself and make yourself useful."

As you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at Winfred. "And if he doesn’t want me there?"

The butler’s gaze was steady. "He will. He may not realize it yet, but His Majesty needs help. Even the Morningstar has limits."

With a heavy heart, you made your way toward the nursery, each step feeling heavier than the last. You could only hope that stepping into this new role wouldn’t unravel the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself before heading down the hall. Every step felt heavier than the last, your mind racing with what awaited you in the nursery. As you neared the corridor, you spotted Carrie fussing with some picture frames hanging on the wall, clearly stalling to catch you on your way out.

The moment she caught sight of you, she bounded over, her tail swishing nervously behind her.

“What in Satan’s name was that about?” she demanded, her voice a mix of curiosity and worry.

You avoided her gaze, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. “It was… nothing. Winfred gave me a new task to do, nothing more.” Your tone was curt, and you resumed walking further down the hall, hoping she’d take the hint and drop it.

“Nothing?” she repeated, hurrying to keep pace with you. “I thought he was going to skin you alive! What did you do? Forget to polish the silver? Spill something in the banquet hall? Oh, wait—don’t tell me it was because of the time I—”

“It wasn’t about any of that,” you interrupted sharply, cutting her off before she could start confessing to crimes you didn’t want to hear about.

Carrie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she darted ahead to block your path, forcing you to stop. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to brush me off like that. What did he want?”

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. Carrie had been your closest friend in the manor, but even she didn’t know the full truth about your past—or your son. "It’s nothing you need to worry about, Carrie," you said firmly. "I have it handled."

Her tail flicked, and her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “Oh, really? Because you’ve got that look on your face. You know, the one you get when something’s bothering you but you’re too stubborn to say anything.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "It’s just… Winfred assigned me to assist with Miss Charlie."

Carrie’s jaw dropped, her tail stilled in disbelief. "What? You? Of all the imps in this cursed place?"

"Yes, me," you said dryly, stepping around her to continue down the hall.

"But why?" she pressed, falling into step beside you. "You’re not even a nanny! I mean, I’m sure you’re good with kids, sure, but this is different. This is the Morningstar’s kid! If you so much as sneeze wrong, he’ll—"

"Carrie," you interrupted, your voice laced with irritation. "I don’t have a choice, okay? Winfred made it clear this isn’t optional."

She fell silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, with a sly smirk, she elbowed you gently. "So, you’re telling me you’re going to be spending quality time with the big boss himself? Maybe you’ll even get on his good side."

You shot her a look. "That’s not how this works, and you know it."

Carrie shrugged, the smirk never leaving her face. "Hey, I’m just saying—if anyone can charm a grumpy king, it’s you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you muttered, quickening your pace.

As you neared the nursery door, Carrie finally stopped trailing you, her teasing expression softening. “Hey… seriously, though. If you need anything—or if it gets to be too much—just let me know, okay? You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You paused, her words catching you off guard. Turning to face her, you managed a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Carrie. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door to the nursery, stepping into its quiet warmth. The room was dimly lit, with soft golden hues spilling from a nearby lamp. Inside, Lucifer sat in a rocking chair, his posture both regal and relaxed as he cradled Charlie against his chest. The infant was sound asleep, her tiny hand clutching the edge of his jacket.

Lucifer’s gaze shifted to you the moment you entered, his crimson eyes sharp and watchful. There was no mistaking the subtle narrowing of his gaze, the unmistakable glint of protective wariness that only a father could carry.

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Your Majesty,” you said softly, inclining your head in a respectful bow. “Winfred sent me. He thought you might need… assistance.”

Lucifer’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, the air in the room seemed to grow heavier, his presence suffocating in its intensity. “Did he, now?” he said coolly, his deep voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “And what makes him think I need *help*?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your next words. “He thought… perhaps it might ease your burden, even just a little. Raising a child is no small task, especially with everything else you’re managing.”

The room fell silent, save for the faint, rhythmic sound of Charlie’s breathing. You could feel the weight of Lucifer’s scrutiny, his piercing gaze dissecting every word, every twitch of your expression.

At last, his eyes dropped to the sleeping infant in his arms. His features softened imperceptibly, the harsh lines of his face easing just slightly. When he spoke, his voice was quieter, though no less commanding. “And what experience do you have with children?”

Your heart pounded, memories of your son flickering through your mind like a distant flame. “I… I’ve cared for children before,” you said carefully, the words deliberate as you skirted around the full truth. “Being an older sister, I’ve learned how to handle their needs. I’m… patient.”

Lucifer studied you for a long moment, his tail swishing lazily behind him, though his gaze remained sharp and calculating. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity before he finally exhaled, a low sigh that carried both weariness and reluctant acceptance.

“Fine,” he said at last, though his tone remained guarded. “But don’t worry about today. You’re free to go.”

Relief washed over you, though you kept your expression neutral. You bowed respectfully. “Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his attention already returning to his daughter as he gently adjusted the blanket around her. You took that as your cue to leave, stepping back into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind you.

As the door clicked shut, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You made your way toward the staff area where everyone’s lockers were tucked away. The dimly lit corridor offered a brief respite from the tension you’d been carrying, though your chest still felt tight. Slipping inside the locker room, you let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you.

You quickly began to change out of your uniform, swapping it for your usual attire. As the fabric slid off your shoulders, the familiar comfort of your clothes helped ease some of your nerves. Tugging your shirt over your head, you brushed your hair back, smoothing the strands that had been tousled and fixing the bits that stubbornly pricked upward at the base of your horns.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone entering the room. Carrie stepped in, her arms folded, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. She caught your gaze and gave you a small nod.

“Hey…” you greeted softly, your voice subdued as you grabbed your bag to stow away your dirty uniform.

“Hey yourself,” Carrie replied, leaning casually against one of the lockers, though the tilt of her tail betrayed her curiosity. “You okay? You looked like you were walking to your own execution earlier.”

You let out a dry chuckle, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you muttered, shoving the uniform into your bag.

“Well, I mean, you walked into the devil’s den,” Carrie teased lightly, though her tone grew more serious. “So? How bad was it? Did Lucifer breathe fire? Throw you out the window? Blink and disintegrate you?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, nothing like that. He was… intense, sure. But he didn’t kill me.” You slung your bag over your shoulder, leaning back against the locker with a sigh. “He’s just… protective. Can’t really blame him for that.”

Carrie studied you for a moment, her usual snark giving way to genuine concern. “Still, that’s no small thing—being asked to help with his kid. Winfred must think you’ve got nerves of steel or something.”

“More like he didn’t give me a choice,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It’s not like I volunteered for this.”

Carrie tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “You sure you don’t think it’s a punishment or something, do you? Like, ‘Hey, you annoyed me today, so go deal with the King of Hell’s kid’?”

You shook your head, though her words made you pause. “No… I don’t think so. Winfred was weirdly insistent, like he thought I’d be good at it. It’s just—” You hesitated, the weight of your secret hanging heavily on your mind. “It’s a lot.”

Carrie gave you a long look, her tail flicking thoughtfully. “Well, if anyone can handle it, it’s you. You’ve got that whole ‘calm under pressure’ thing going on. Plus, you’re good with kids… right?”

Her words struck a chord, and you glanced away, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. “I guess,” you said quietly.

Carrie didn’t push further, instead offering a small smile. “Well, good luck with it. If nothing else, you’ll get some great stories out of it. ‘The Day I Survived Lucifer Morningstar’ has a nice ring to it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Thanks, Carrie. That’s… oddly encouraging.”

“Anytime,” she said, giving you a playful salute as she turned to head toward her locker.

As you made your way out of the staff area, her words lingered in your mind. Despite the weight of the task ahead, there was a strange sense of resolve building within you. Whatever came next, you’d face it—one day at a time.

"I’ll see you later," you said, managing a small smile, though exhaustion was already tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"See you later!" Carrie called back, her voice cheerful as she headed in the opposite direction, her tail swishing as she disappeared down the corridor.

You sighed softly, adjusting your bag’s strap and stepping out into the streets of Hell. The evening air was heavy with the scent of sulfur, mingling with the distant din of chatter and the occasional scream. Finally, you spotted the bus stop just up ahead and felt a wave of relief at the sight of the bench waiting for you.

I can finally rest my feet, you thought, eager for even a moment’s reprieve after such a long day.

But, as luck would have it, your relief was short-lived. A hulking shark demon plopped down on the bench just as you approached, sprawling out and taking up every inch of space. His massive tail swayed lazily, nearly knocking over the trash can beside him.

You stopped in your tracks, an internal groan echoing in your head. Great.

Awkwardly, you hovered a few feet away, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. The demon glanced up, his beady black eyes locking onto you, and a slow, toothy grin spread across his face. You could feel the weight of his gaze, predatory and calculating, making your skin crawl. Still, you kept your eyes straight ahead, trying to focus on the road.

Hailing a cab wasn’t an option—you’d spent nearly every spare cent on bills and essentials for your son. That left you with one uncomfortable choice: waiting here in silence, no matter how unnerving it felt.

“Just wait it out,” you muttered under your breath, casting another hopeful glance down the road. The bus had to show up soon, right?

The demon’s grin widened, his jagged teeth gleaming in the dim light. “What? Too good to sit by me, girlie?” he sneered, his voice deep and mocking.

You stiffened but didn’t look at him. “Just waiting for the bus,” you replied evenly, keeping your tone calm and distant.

Your tail swished behind you, betraying your unease as you heard the demon shift on the bench. His heavy footsteps thudded against the ground as he stood, his towering shadow falling over you.

Fuck me, you thought, shoulders tensing as you braced yourself for whatever was coming next.

The demon leaned closer, his breath foul with the stench of decay and whatever he’d eaten last. “Waiting for the bus, huh?” he rumbled, his voice dripping with amusement. “Seems to me you’ve got nothing better to do. How ’bout keeping me company, sweetheart?”

You shifted your weight, gripping your bag tightly. “I’d rather not,” you said sharply, forcing yourself to remain composed as your eyes flicked to the horizon.

Where is that damn bus?

He laughed, a low, guttural sound that sent a chill up your spine. “Aw, don’t be like that. Bet you’re more fun than you look,” he teased, his grin widening as he leaned in even closer.

Your patience snapped like a taut wire. Turning sharply, you finally met his gaze, your eyes narrowing. “Back off,” you said, your voice firm and unwavering. Your tail cracked loudly like a whip, the sharp sound cutting through the tension. “I’m not interested. Move along.”

For a moment, the demon looked surprised, his grin faltering. Then he laughed again, louder this time, a sound that grated against every nerve in your body.

But before he could say anything else, the rumble of the bus engine filled the air. The headlights cut through the haze, and the bus rolled to a stop with a hiss, its doors creaking open. Relief flooded you as you stepped forward quickly, ignoring the demon entirely.

“Catch you later, sweetheart,” he called after you, but you didn’t spare him a glance as you climbed aboard, finding a seat near the middle of the bus.

Sinking into the worn cushion, you let out a long breath, the tension finally melting from your shoulders. You glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the shark demon glaring after you, his face twisted in annoyance.

Safe at last, you leaned back and allowed yourself a moment to relax. The familiar sights of I.M.P City rolled past the window, the vibrant chaos of Hell’s streets a strange sort of comfort. As the bus rumbled along, a small smile tugged at your lips. Home was close, but there was one more stop to make before you could call it a day.

Pulling out your phone, you tapped out a quick message to your son’s babysitter, confirming that everything was still fine on that front. Within moments, a thumbs-up notification popped up, and you felt a surge of gratitude.

The bus slowed to a stop, and you hopped off, your shoes clicking against the pavement as you made your way to the nearby grocery store. The doors slid open with a mechanical hum, and you stepped inside, heading directly for the aisle you needed.

Your hand found the familiar box on the shelf, and you smiled faintly, tossing it into your basket. It wasn’t much, but it was one of your son’s favorites—something small to make him smile after a long day.

After a quick trip through self-checkout, you stepped back out into the warm evening air, the receipt crinkling in your pocket. With your purchase in hand, you started the final leg of your journey, your thoughts already drifting to the warmth of home and the sound of your son’s laughter.

No matter how difficult the day had been, you reminded yourself, it was worth it for him. Always.

As you rounded the corner, your apartment building came into view—a modest structure that had seen better days. The paint was peeling, the windows were slightly fogged, and the steps groaned underfoot, but it was yours. No palace in Hell could match the comfort of the home you’d built within these walls.

You climbed the familiar flights of stairs, each creak of the wood a sound you could trace blindfolded. At the top, you paused in front of your door, the muffled sounds of cartoons and soft giggles filtering through. A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled out your keys and unlocked the door.

The hinges squeaked as the door swung open, and the lively chatter of the cartoon characters greeted you, mingled with the unmistakable sound of your son’s giggles. The sight of him on the living room floor, cross-legged with his favorite plush toy clutched in his tiny hands, made your heart swell. His eyes, wide and bright, flicked to you instantly, and his face lit up with sheer joy, revealing his sharp little teeth in a grin that mirrored yours.

“Mama!” he cried, springing to his feet with surprising speed and charging toward you, his small arms spread wide.

You crouched just in time to scoop him into your arms, holding him tight as his arms wrapped around your neck. The exhaustion from your day faded into nothing against the warmth of his embrace. "Hey, sweetheart," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Were you good for Ms. Ella?"

He nodded so enthusiastically you thought his head might pop off, and from the kitchen, you heard a chuckle. Turning your head, you saw Ms. Ella wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she stepped into view. Her kind, wrinkled face softened as she watched the two of you.

“An absolute devil, as always,” she said with a knowing smile. “He helped me set the table for his snack earlier. I’d say you’ve got a proper little gentleman in the making.”

You laughed, ruffling his messy hair, and he beamed with pride. “Couldn’t do it without him,” you said, your tone warm as you gently set him down. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out Ms. Ella’s payment for the evening, handing it to her with a grateful nod.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ella. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She waved her hand dismissively, her smile unwavering. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, dear. He’s a delight, as always. You just make sure you get some rest tonight, alright?”

“I will,” you promised, seeing her out with a final wave.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, your son tugged on your sleeve, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Mama, can I have it now? Pleeease?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Have what, exactly?”

He pointed at your grocery bag, practically bouncing on his toes. “The Greed Seeds! I saw them!”

You laughed, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box. His delighted gasp filled the room, and he clapped his hands together like he’d just won the lottery. “Yes!”

“After dinner,” you said firmly, holding the box just out of reach as he pouted dramatically. You scooped him up again, carrying him toward the kitchen. “Now, how about you help me cook tonight, huh? Chef’s assistant, as always?”

He nodded eagerly, the pout vanishing as he threw his arms around your neck again. Together, you began working on a simple dinner, with him passing you ingredients and ‘taste-testing’ bits of veggies when he thought you weren’t looking.

The kitchen was small, but it felt vast and alive with the sound of his laughter. When the food was ready, the two of you sat down to eat at the little table by the window. The meal was simple but hearty, and as you listened to him animatedly describe the latest episode of his favorite cartoon, you couldn’t stop smiling.

It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was your life. Every late shift, every exhausting day, every run-in with the rougher parts of Hell—it was all worth it for this.

Later, after dinner was cleaned up and his small hands had claimed their prize—much to his uncontainable delight—you tucked him into bed. He clutched his favorite plush toy tightly, his eyelids heavy but his grin still bright.

“Love you, Mama,” he whispered sleepily, his voice barely audible as he snuggled into the blankets.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead before pressing a kiss there. “Sweet dreams.”

As you turned off the light and quietly shut the door behind you, you stood for a moment in the silence of your small apartment. Exhausted but content, you let out a long breath and smiled.

This was home. And nothing else mattered.

Tag list: @diffidentphantom

[guiltyasdave]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[dexastres]

sweet melody, part two

jude bellingham x black reader

summary : elena wants revenge on her ex-boyfriend, who cheated on her, and jude will help her.

wc : 1165

part one

Jude couldn’t shake off the strange feeling that overcame him ever since he laid eyes on Elena. His inner voice yelled at him to stand up and go find her in the bathroom, but his body refused to listen. So, he stayed at the bar, lost in his thoughts, wondering if she was fine and if she needed a shoulder to cry on. The young man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The music faded gradually, along with Enrique’s voice. For a moment, Jude felt like he was in his own world, an island in the middle of the ocean, with nothing but Elena filling his thoughts. 

He couldn’t put it into words what he was feeling right now. It was unlike anything he ever felt before. Jude couldn’t explain why she attracted him so much, but he sensed a certain connection with her, a bond only they could understand. His heartbeat intensified every time he thought about the moment their eyes met. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Enrique noticed and couldn’t hold back his laughter.

The Englishman looked towards the bathroom door, hoping to see the young woman. He didn’t know how long it had been since she locked herself in there, but it felt like an eternity. Once again, the little voice in his head shouted at him to get up, but before he could, the door opened, revealing the person who made his heart beat. Elena walked into the club with a newfound energy, fuelled by a burning desire for revenge. A radiant smile lit up her face, and her confidence grew with every passing second. She attracted everyone’s attention, as if she was the star of the nightclub. Jude couldn’t take his eyes off her, and his heart skipped a beat when she stopped in front of him.

“Is this seat taken?” Elena asked, her voice sounded like music to Jude’s ears. He found her slight accent very cute, though it could go unnoticed unless you paid close attention.

“No. You can take it.” She nodded in response and sat next to the footballer. She felt the warmth Jude radiated, which surprisingly brought her some comfort. Normally, she’d go out of her way to avoid talking to strangers, but this time, it was different.

“Hey, what can I serve you, young lady?" Enrique’s sudden appearance startled Elena, who shyly turned towards the bartender.

"I’ll just have water, thank you." The middle-aged man nodded while writing her order, along with the others on his list. Jude noticed the subtle change in Elena’s attitude, and how she tried to keep the conversation short with the bartender.

"Can I have more water, please?” Jude said, holding out his glass towards the bartender. 

“I should start charging you for refills, Jude. This is your third time. Are you trying to put me out of business?” Enrique teased, raising an eyebrow, and the Englishman responded by rolling his eyes. Elena watched them arguing like cats and dogs over the most insignificant thing. While the two men bickered, she pulled her phone out of her tiny bag. Notifications from the group chat she had with her friends flooded her screen. The young woman looked around her, searching for a familiar face, but found none.

“Looking for someone?” Jude asked, and she nodded.

“I’m looking for my best friend, Sierra. The girls are blowing up our group chat, asking where she is. I checked her location, and it says she’s still here, but she’s probably somewhere with a guy." She shrugged.

"This happens every time we go out. She disappears, then suddenly reappears and tells us all the crazy details. But I get it, though. She’s the most beautiful, hilarious and intelligent person I know. You never get bored when she’s around. So yeah, I can’t blame any guy for falling for her." 

Elena’s eyes sparkled as she spoke about her best friend, a sign of the deep affection she felt for Sierra. Their friendship meant the world to her, and she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if it suddenly ended.

“Well, I should probably go because the girls are blowing up my phone again. It was nice to talk with you, Jude.” Elena got up from her seat and grabbed her glass of water.

"Wait..." Before Jude could even ask for her name, she had already disappeared into the crowd. “What an idiot.” He muttered under his breath.

"Why didn’t I ask for her name?” He sighed, placed his glass of water on the counter, then stood up. His feet moved before his mind could react. Moments later, he was near the dance floor, where Elena had just stopped. From where he stood, he saw her body trembling slightly. Confused, he moved closer to her, only to see her tearful face.

“What the fuck?” Elena said. She couldn’t look away from the scene unfolding before her, and felt her heart break, as if a blade had pierced her chest. For a second, everything around her disappeared, except for Alejandro and Sierra, who were kissing on the dance floor.

“How could you?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper, drowned by the music, but it was loud enough for Jude to hear.

“What have I done to deserve this?” The young woman couldn’t believe her best friend would stoop so low. However, she wasn’t surprised by Alejandro. After all, he had cheated on her and didn’t even try to deny it when Elena confronted him.

“My best friend and my ex…” Elena stopped mid-sentence when a soft, unexpected warmth seized her wrist. She looked up to see Jude gazing at her with a softened expression. He wiped away her tears, and without thinking, Elena buried her face in his chest and let them flow. Normally, she would have run away, but she felt oddly comfortable in his presence.

“Come with me,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded, too tired to fight back, and followed him towards the exit door while staring at the floor.

“Oh, Elena....” Sierra murmured as she watched her best friend leave the club with Jude. A knot formed in her stomach, and her pulse quickened when she locked eyes with Alejandro. She forced a slight smile to hide her sadness, knowing that this moment would mean nothing to him tomorrow.

Sierra stared at the exit door, her eyes filled with tears. She bit her lips, her heart heavy, as she reflected on all the moments they shared. However, a shadow hung over each of them, reflecting the jealousy she always felt towards her best friend.

“Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well? You see, jealousy is incurable and I'm sick of you.” Elena’s presence served as a brutal reminder to Sierra that she would always finish second, that she would always remain the second choice, her understudy, and that she’d never step out of her shadow.

"I've always hated you."

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Four

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note this chapter, except a moment of sickeningly awkward cuteness (I'm so sorry). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : The aftermath of last chapter. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Four

You woke to find yourself on the sofa, covered with a blanket, alone and with only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. Your hand had been bandaged and you felt worse than ever. The room was spinning, your head pounding, and finally you understood why; blood loss. You’d drawn blood and, then, you’d let him drink from you; it had been too much and you’d lost consciousness.

It took a moment more for you to remember everything else that had happened; how he’d pressed his body to yours, how he’d kissed you, and how you’d - oh god, your boss had made you come. 

Panic washed over you for a second, your hand reaching between your thighs, terrified that something had happened after you passed out. No. You breathed a sigh of relief and found yourself feeling silly for even thinking that Billy would do something like that. From what little you knew of him, you didn’t think he was capable of that.

Despite being completely alone, you pulled the blanket up, hiding your face and your embarrassment. You closed your eyes and all you could see was his face, blood covered lips and dark eyes filled with hunger - and not just hunger for blood.

You remembered his lips on your neck, the scrape of teeth - fangs - as you came. Gingerly, you ran your fingers over your skin, searching for puncture marks but, thankfully, found none. 

As much as you wanted to move, to go back to your bedroom, you were too exhausted and, soon enough, you ended up falling asleep again. 

Hours must have passed and you certainly felt better for it when you finally opened your eyes again.

At some point a bottle of water and a note had been left on the floor next to the sofa, though you couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d placed them there after you’d fallen asleep again.

You decided to start with the water, taking a slow drink to steady your nerves before reading the note. It was impossible to stop your mind from going into overdrive, from thinking of all the things that the note might contain; was he going to fire you for your unprofessional behaviour, was he angry that you broke the rule about being in the penthouse after 9pm?

Your fingers shook as you unfolded the note and started to read.

I want to apologise for my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable and I understand if you want to terminate your contract because of it. If you want to leave, please let Lissa know and she will retrieve your things from storage. If you choose to stay, you will have the next couple of days to yourself to recover. I’ll be gone until Friday and won’t need blood before then. 

Whatever you decide, I’ve arranged for my friend Karen to visit you tomorrow and, if you still want to, you have permission to go out with her for the day. If you want to leave, she will help you with whatever you need to do so. Please take care of yourself.

Billy.

You read and reread the note, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. The note felt so detached, almost like he was assuming you’d want to leave. 

(Did you? Was that really what you wanted?)

You read it again before sitting up, noticing the dried blood on your pyjamas. Common sense told you to leave, to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. Last night had been stupid and reckless, you’d done the one thing you’d promised yourself you’d never do; you’d let a vampire drink directly from you.

Okay, so he hadn’t bitten you, but what was to say that next time he wouldn’t? But, by the same logic, what was to say that he would? He could have done anything he wanted to you, but he hadn’t. And what he had done you’d allowed. No, you’d been an active participant. You’d enjoyed it. (Who were you trying to kid? You’d wanted it.) He’d told you to stay away and you’d ignored him. It had been your choice to feed him, your choice to let him kiss you, even though you knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

Embarrassed as you were, some part of you had wanted what had happened last night and, now, you had to live with the consequences. 

You read the note one last time. Please take care of yourself, you weren’t sure if those five little words made it better or worse. He always seemed so concerned with how fragile you were, and you still weren’t sure if it came from a place of caring or of liability, but it felt like he was staying away from his own home because of you.

No, you quickly decided, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t. You needed the money and last night was as much your fault as Billy’s. 

Staying was still far better than the alternative.

Eventually you managed to get up and move to your rooms, grabbing yourself a bowl of cereal on the way to bed. You put the TV on, but more for background noise than anything and spent the rest of the day dozing, only getting up to get more cereal.

Instead of thinking about what had happened, you started thinking about tomorrow, about finally being able to go outside and see some of New York City. What would his friend Karen be like? Would she be able to tell you anything about Billy? Finally, you had something to look forward to, even though you were worried that Billy had only arranged it out of guilt.

You felt much better the next day when you woke up, in part because you were excited to finally go outside and see some of the city but, also, because you were looking forward to meeting Billy’s friend and having someone new to talk to. The weather outside looked cold and wet, so you dressed accordingly, pulling a lovely blue jacket and pair of boots from your wardrobe to put on over your jeans and blouse.

Just before midday, you heard someone calling your name, and you quickly went out to greet them. She had stunning red hair and skin so pale you might have thought she was a vampire if you weren’t about to go out in daylight with her. It was enough to make you pause, to make you wonder how she knew Billy, an odd twinge of jealousy filling you for a second.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she smiled and held out her hand. You took it and introduced yourself properly, even though she already knew your name. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, looking down at your bandaged hand for a second. “I caught it taking some cookies out of the oven.”

“Ouch,” Karen winced sympathetically, seeming to buy the lie. “Billy said you wanted to go for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you answered, feeling overcome with relief the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“You got any place in mind?” Karen asked, subtly looking you up and down like she was trying to get a measure of you.

“I - I don’t know. This is my first time in New York, I don’t really know where anything is.” 

“And this is the first time he’s let you outside,” she stated.

For a second you looked at her, confused, wondering how much she knew, how much she was supposed to know. Lissa had told you that Billy valued his privacy and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable look on your face must have been enough to tip Karen off that you didn’t know how to answer.

“He has his reasons,” she started again as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and you stepped out, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but he is trying to look out for you.”

“How do you know him?” You asked.

“I met him through his best friend when we started dating.”

“Oh. And is he...?” You left the question unfinished, not sure if it was polite to ask.

“A vampire?” She smiled the sort of carefree smile that you couldn’t help feel envious of, like she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. “Yes, he is.”

Stepping out onto the street, you couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning your eyes skyward and taking a deep breath. It took a second for your eyes to get used to natural light and, all the while, Karen stood watching you.

“How long has it been?” Her question pulled you back to the moment.

“A couple of weeks, I think?” You tried to remember, but you’d lost track of how long exactly it had been after the first week. However long it had been, it wasn’t really long enough to warrant that sort of reaction from you. Your cheeks warmed a fraction as you looked at Karen. “I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors all the time.”

Karen just nodded, waiting a beat before starting to walk. You fell into step beside her, your eyes taking in the sights of New York. You had no idea where she was leading you but you didn’t care. You were finally seeing the city and you couldn’t be happier.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself in a little coffee shop, looking at the pastries and cakes on offer before you realised something.

“I don’t have any money,” you told Karen, your cheeks turning red, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you always had a purse with you or your phone, but Lissa had taken them and you weren’t going to be paid until you’d completed a year in Mr Russo’s service. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karen replied, starting to fumble around with her purse before pulling out a black credit card and handing it to you. “Billy asked me to give you this for anything you need.”

The card had your name embossed on it but there was nothing else to indicate - well, anything at all. You didn’t know if it was a prepaid card or if it had a limit, and there was no way of telling where the money would be coming from.

“The PIN is your birth year,” Karen continued, though she seemed more interested in eyeing the food selection than she was in you.

After a moment more, you decided that you’d ask Billy about it when you next saw him (assuming you ever saw him again, after the other night). You choose modestly, not wanting to spend too much on a card that wasn’t yours and that you couldn’t control. For all you knew, you were spending Billy’s money and the last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of this gesture of kindness.

And that was something Karen did notice, watching you from the corner of her eye with a somewhat bemused expression on her face as you calculated just how much money you’d be spending getting a drink, a panini, and a muffin. Then, you held your breath as you used the card for the first time, preparing yourself for the embarrassment of it being declined.  It wasn’t. You breathed a sigh of relief before following Karen to a little table by the window.

Your eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching as it started to rain, but you could feel her eyes on you.

“You’re not like the others,” she finally broke the silence. 

“What were they like?” You asked with a healthy degree of caution, still not knowing what the rules were and what you were allowed to talk to her about. “Lissa said that they disappointed Mr Russo?”

She sat back, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. You couldn’t tell what part of it she found amusing and you didn’t want to ask.

“Disappointed is one word for it, I guess?” she took a breath, obviously composing her thoughts before continuing. “Did you know that you’re the first one he didn’t interview himself?”

You shook your head; you’d applied for the job by email and had spoken to someone (you now assumed to be Lissa) very briefly over the phone. In retrospect, it seemed strange given the amount of money that was at stake.

Unless he didn’t bother because he assumed you’d disappoint him like the others…

“The problem with Billy - with the whole job, really - is that it usually attracts a... certain sort of person. Most of them have only been interested in the money and spending a year living in the lap of luxury. The others are...” she fell silent, smiling as the barista brought your toasted paninis over and, when you were alone again, she looked like she really didn’t want to finish her thought.

“The others are...?” You prompted cautiously.

“They’re the sort of people who want more from the arrangement than Billy is prepared to give,” she answered and, when you obviously didn’t catch her meaning, she continued. “Billy is a very rich man and he’s going to live forever. A lot of people find both of those prospects very attractive.”

“They want him to...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, a lump stuck in your throat at the thought. Karen nodded. “And you’ve done this before? Gone for coffee with... someone like me?”

“Not quite like this, but I did spend time with some of them.”

“What do you mean not quite like this?” 

She paused half way through lifting her cup to her lips and, for a second you could have sworn she winced. Still, she took a drink and didn’t try to answer until her mug was back on the table again.

“His rules weren’t always so strict.” Her head shook. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you any of this. Billy has his reasons for why things are the way they are; it’s to protect you as much as it’s to protect him.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions but no words came out. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how or why the rules had changed because you’d agreed to them. You’d agreed to the job and you needed the money, so the last thing you wanted to do was get Karen in trouble and maybe jeopardise future outings like this.

“Thank you,” you told her, then quickly clarified; “for telling me.”

Karen smiled, considering her words for a moment. “Billy is a friend, but trust me when I tell you that if I didn’t believe what he was doing was necessary, I would have told him so.”

“It’s okay,” you conceded quietly, shrugging, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this.”

You turned your attention to your food, cautiously picking up your panini, trying not to burn yourself on the molten cheese that was leaking out the side as you took a bite. It was heavenly; toasted just the right amount, the cheese was sharp, and the tuna -

You dropped the panini back to your plate, horrified with yourself.

No. No-no-no. How could you have been so stupid? You felt your chest tighten a fraction, your stomach tying itself in knots. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Karen asked, obviously concerned.

“Tuna,” you stated, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to eat tuna. It’s on the list. He’s going to -”

“Whoa-whoa, back up. What list?”

“The list of things I’m not supposed to eat,” you tried to explain, unable to conceal the panic from your voice. 

This wasn’t you - you didn’t break rules, you always tried to stay in line - and, now, you’d messed up. All you could think was that you were going to lose the job, that Billy would kick you out and you’d have no choice but to go home. You were going to end up back where you started all because of a stupid toasted sandwich.

“Hey-hey, calm down, it’s okay,” Karen tried to settle you.

“You don’t understand I can’t lose this job.”

“You won’t,” she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers, “if Billy finds out, we’ll tell him it was my fault, okay?”

“But -”

“No, buts. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain the panic that was clawing beneath your ribs. You’d been raised to be good, to be decent, to follow the rules and not cause problems. You’d been raised to fear consequences and, even though you were far from home, that mindset was difficult to escape.

“Here,” she offered, sliding her plate towards you, “we can swap, I got ham and cheese. You only had one bite, Billy will never know.”

It was like she understood, like she could tell just by looking at you how desperately you needed to keep the job - not just because of the money on offer but because you had nothing and nowhere else to go without it. 

Taking the offered plate, you ate slowly, quietly. From time to time, you’d catch her looking at you, concern on her face. Conversation that followed was stilted and awkward as you picked apart your muffin until it was gone. And, once your mug was empty, the outing was over.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” she apologised as you started back towards the penthouse. “I’ll make more time next week; we can spend a whole afternoon doing whatever you want. We’ll make it a regular thing, every Thursday.”

Agreeing, you thanked her as she rode the elevator back up to the penthouse with you, making sure you were okay before leaving you with the promise of seeing you again next week.

It was strange to know that you were completely alone in the penthouse for another day but, after the incident with the panini, you were very deliberate when it came to the rules. You sat on the sofa until just before 9pm, watching the cloudy sky slowly darken and give way to night before returning to your rooms, even though no one would have known if you’d stayed in the penthouse longer.

That night you laid in bed thinking about Billy - or, rather, you thought about what it was going to be like to see him again after what had happened. Was he as embarrassed by it all as you were? Did Billy Russo even get embarrassed? Maybe it would be better for the both of you if you just pretended that it never happened.

Friday passed in a blur. Every time you heard a noise in the penthouse, you would creep to the door to your quarters and press your ear against it, trying to hear if he was back. Of course, some part of you understood how ridiculous you were being; Billy was so light on his feet that you’d never be able to hear him. But, still, time and time again you found yourself pressed against the door.

After drawing blood, you moved across the penthouse as quietly as you could, looking for signs that he was home and finding none. Once you reached the kitchen and placed the blood in the fridge, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief before turning and -

There he was.

Standing between you and your rooms, a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

For a second your lips parted, wanting to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Your cheeks started to warm and the silence dragged on for at least ten seconds. Billy looked uncertain, so uncomfortable in your presence. His normally calm and collected demeanour was gone, replaced with a look that made you feel unsettled, guilty even. More than that, you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked - you hadn’t even realised that vampires could look tired before now.

“You decided to stay,” part-statement, part-question. All you could do was nod, letting your feet carry you a couple of steps closer to him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.”

“I want to stay,” you offered quietly, breathing slowly, trying to keep your heart from racing.

“I’m sorry for the other night. I never wanted you to see me like that,” he said, standing a little taller and seeming to regain some of his usual composure. “It won’t happen again. I never wanted to make you feel unsafe here.”

“You didn’t,” your voice still small as you struggled to find a way to describe any of the things you were feeling right now. “You told me to stay away and I didn’t listen, and I didn’t ask you to stop when I should have. But I just...” you trailed off, not sure how to say the next part.

“What?” He prompted softly, his attention entirely fixed on you.

“I need to make it clear; just because you’re paying me, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to -”

“I would never think that I’m entitled to fuck you just because I’m paying you,” he interrupted, just as offended by the notion as you were. “Anything that happens here only happens with your consent.”

Did that mean it could happen again if you wanted it to? You didn’t dare voice the question, instead you just nodded.

His gaze dropped awkwardly and yours followed it, noticing something tightly gripped in his hands. A stuffed toy. Before you could ask, Billy had cleared the distance between you, holding out the toy to you. After a moment of confused hesitation, you took it, frowning first at the toy then him.

“When you said you were lonely, you mentioned a dog and I -” he let out an uncomfortable huff of laughter, “- well, obviously I can’t let you have a real dog here but I thought - I hoped - maybe this would help.”

Your gaze dropped to the stuffed toy in your hand, shaped like a beagle with floppy ears and a little pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you such a thoughtful gift and that sad thought caused your heart to give an uncomfortable squeeze. When you looked back to Billy, you started to realise that there was far more to the man than you’d originally believed.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you had, so I just...” he continued, trailing off when he saw your smile.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

It was Billy’s turn to simply nod, seeming just as lost for words as you were for a few seconds before deciding to let you go about your evening. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”

The conversation was over giving you the perfect opportunity to walk away and recover from whatever this had been, only -

“I broke one of the rules,” you blurted out without thinking, not wanting to carry the weight of it after Billy’s gesture.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face but was quickly reined in. “Which one?” 

“I ate tuna in a panini when I went out with Karen,” you stated, sounding so ashamed anyone would have thought you were confessing to murder. “It was just one bite. I forgot tuna was on the list. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mr Russo. I promise.”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, or the way the tension seemed to leave his body. His hand found your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“But the list -”

“Tuna is on the list because I don’t like it. If I’d been here and had your blood, it would have been unpleasant for me, but I wasn’t here so I’m willing to forgive it.”

(Well, that explained why certain foods were on the list. They were things he didn’t like - did that mean he could tell what you’d been eating from your blood?)

“I spent twenty dollars,” you admitted a moment later, like you were confessing all of your sins to him. (Or maybe you just wanted to keep the conversation going a little while longer, keep his hand on you a little longer.)

His hand moved to your neck, his cold touch on your skin causing your heart to beat a little faster. And you knew he could tell, you knew he could hear the effect he was having on you. 

“You spent eighteen dollars fifty-five,” he told you, amused by whatever this was. “I don’t think you’re going to bankrupt me.” When his little joke didn’t manage to draw a smile from you, Billy sighed. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I haven’t really explained things to you, I guess because I didn’t think you’d even make it past the second week.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking a lot of you. Maybe too much,” he told you as his thumb began to softly brush against your jaw. “The truth is, I need things to be like this. I need to have control. I need to stay in control because when I don’t...”

He didn’t have to say it, you could fill in the blanks. The other night was what happened when Billy lost control, it was what happened when the monster overwhelmed the man.

“But,” he continued, “I know it’s not easy to be the person who’s being controlled. I know you don’t really want this.”

“No, I -” the words started to slip out before you could stop them. Billy looked at you expectantly, silently demanding you finish the thought. Your cheeks felt like they were burning, but he was giving you honesty and you needed to do the same in return. “I’m used to rules. I like knowing what’s expected of me. It doesn’t make things easier for me, but I like knowing where I stand. So, I guess I don’t mind following your rules.”

It was clear he had questions but clearer still that he didn’t want to ask them. You were grateful for that.

“You always have a choice here, little hummingbird, even if I sometimes make it seem like you don’t,” he told you, leaving his hand to linger on your neck a moment more before it dropped to his side. Somehow, you felt colder for the loss of his icy touch. He was quiet a moment before; “do you like Thai food?”

You nodded despite the very sudden change in conversation. “I love it.”

“I’ve got nothing planned this weekend, perhaps we could spend some time getting to know each other a little better? Maybe that would make things a little easier,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. “We could order from a great Thai place I know and I could try to answer some of your questions about things.”

Your fingers tightened on the stuffed toy as you smiled. Finally, you felt like you were getting somewhere, like this could become something bearable, something good.

“I’d like that,” you answered.

“Okay then, tomorrow evening at sunset,” he nodded and looked ready to leave.

Nodding in return, you finally stated to move back towards your rooms. Your hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Why did you help me?” You could tell from his tone that he didn’t want to ask the question, but the curiosity had gotten the better of him. “You didn’t have to help, you could’ve stayed in your rooms. Instead you put yourself in danger to help me. Why?”

You turned back, despite not knowing how to answer him. And, for a few seconds you found yourself looking at him. There was something there, something about his expression, something that made you wonder if anyone else had ever helped him before. It seemed like such an alien concept to him that anyone might go out of their way to do anything for him.

“You looked like you were in pain,” you shrugged, “and, even though I haven’t always felt completely comfortable here, I think you’ve always tried to be kind... in your own way. So, I couldn’t just stand by when I thought there was a chance I could help you.”

Billy swallowed, like he was trying to rid himself of a lump in his throat. Then he nodded, clearly lost for words. That look you’d noticed only seconds before seemed to intensify and Billy didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“Thank you,” he finally managed, before giving you one last look and turning away. 

For a second you allowed yourself to watch him as he made his way towards the kitchen but you knew you couldn’t linger, not when the pounding of your heart gave you away. Slipping through the door, you quickly shut it behind you, pressing your back against it for a moment. Looking down, you realised that you had the stuffed dog clutched to your chest. It was silly, such a ridiculous gift, but the fact that he’d listened to you, the fact that he’d thought about what you’d told him, it meant so much.

End Note : Billy was having a Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen version) moment when he handed over the stuffed toy. Place your bets on what she’s going to to call it. I know this one was slow and a little cutesy but I wanted to build some more tension before things start to ramp up next chapter.

As always thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much to all my new followers (I did not expect 200+ followers when I started posting on tumblr). I hope you all have awesome weekends!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest

[ginnyluna]

I've been thinking about Reyna lately. Specifically, about her romantic interests. Like, how she was supposedly in love with Jason before the swap, but did nothing when he disappeared, and then developped a crush on Percy in like three days. I know i'm not the only one thinking it's a bit weird and out of character for her, and i had a thought on that.

Headcanon alert: Maybe becoming Praetor isn't just about leading the legion. Why are there always two praetors, a boy and a girl? What if New Rome expects their praetors to get together, after their service? You gotta understand, yes there are many citizens in New Rome, but the thing is, there are very few actual demigods, those people are almost all legacies, several generations after an actual demigod, and almost none of them have any real power anymore. Maybe New Rome needs to insure they keep having powerful warriors to fufill their leadership positions. What better way to insure that than artificially putting two of their most powerful warriors together?

It's not necessarily obvious, more like an unwritten rule, but when two praetors are chosen, they know it comes with expectations. Praetors are good at meeting expectations, after all. And New Rome's senators are there to remind them of those expectations. To make things easier, when picking their next two praetors, sometimes, the Senate chooses two teens who are already a couple, if both are powerful enough. Sometimes, they may pass over a potential praetor if they explicitly refuse to be a part of this kind of engagement, or if their parents want to protect them from that. And sometimes, the Senate picks two powerful orphans, one who spent his entire life following the rules and trying to meet expectations, and one who just lost her family and would do anything to belong to a new one - bonus points if one is an extremely rare son of Jupiter, they'll definitly want to insure that this specific genetic will be passed on to the next generation.

So. I don't think Reyna was ever in love with either Jason or Percy (at least, to me, it really didnt' feel like it when reading her pov chapters). I think maybe she was just expected to be, so of course she tried to be. Reyna has always been a rule-follower, after all, she always does what is expected of her, she understands the hierarchy's needs. And maybe she longs for a family of her own, too, and Jason is a really good guy, it would be a really good match, so if that's what the legion expects of her, why not go for it.

Edit: more under the cut

Also, it would kinda explain Reyna's reactions, i think? Even though she's not in love with Jason, she still likes him, they're friends, and they have both unexplicitly agreed to this match when they accepted the role of praetors. So when Venus tells her that Jason will never end up with her, Reyna just... doesn't get it? Why wouldn't they end up together, that's part of the deal, right? Why would Jason change his mind? Reyna probably already knows he's not in love with her like she's not in love with him, but that's never been a problem for her, and it wasn't gonna be a problem for him either when he took the praetor badge, so what changed? Does he actually dislikes her that much?

So yeah, she's a bit hurt by that. She thought they had an agreement (unspoken, prehaps, but still, for her it was quite clear).

But then Jason vanishes. No one really knows what to do, they don't even know what happened, did he leave? was he kidnapped? is he dead? Of course Reyna is worried, he was her friend, but she has an entire camp to run, all by herself now. She also thinks, that's what Venus meant after all, doesn't matter if he's dead or if he left willingly, he'll never be a part of her family, the family she's been longing for. Reyna probably thinks she's cursed to be alone now, the forever-alone single praetor, what a depressing thought. But then comes Percy.

Percy is powerful. He's another very rare demigod. He's brave, strong-willed, a natural leader - all important qualities for a potential praetor. So when he succeeds his quest, brings back the golden eagle and saves Camp Jupiter, of course he is chosen to replace Jason. Reyna thinks, is this her second chance? Percy is also handsome, funny and kind, he would be just as good match as Jason.

But when Percy agrees to become praetor, he has absolutly no idea what expectations comes with it - it's not like anyone ever takes time to explain, everybody just usually knows about it, it's tradition and what not. So when he tells Reyna he already has a girlfriend, of course she's disappointed, her hopes for family and a sense of belonging are shattered, again.

My point is, what Reyna had for Jason and Percy, it was never about love. It was mostly about rationalizing New Rome's expectations, and a little about wanting to belong, to be a part of a family of her own.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (21) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: changes are coming.

word count: 2,010

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: implied smut, sickness, pet name (petal), not proofread

“I never imaged that Coriolanus Snow would be the sort of man to wrap himself around his wife’s finger,” Clemensia said, stirring her spoon in the china teacup. The metal clinked against the porcelain. She lifted the spoon from the cup and set it on the plate before taking a long drink.

You had invited her and Livia, among some other young ladies of the ton, for tea. The rest of the ladies had broken off in their own conversations while you remained with your friends. It was nice to see them. Though you loved your Coryo, sometimes it was good to spend time away from him. It reminded you of how much you enjoyed his presence. 

“I never imagined him married. I sort of thought he’d live alone forever. He never cared much for chasing after girls at the Academy,” Livia admitted. Her face paled as though she realized who she was speaking to. You almost laughed at the scared, mouse-like expression. “I mean no offense, Your Majesty.”

You waved her off. “You can speak freely to me. I must admit, it is nice to hear that someone didn’t think my Coryo to be the marrying type.”

“Oooh, your Coryo,” Clemensia teased, brushing her elbow against yours. 

“Oh, hush,” you laughed. “I thought I was truly blind when he told me he’s wanted my hand since we were fourteen. At least now I can say I was not blind, but rather that he was terrible at communicating his feelings.”

Livia’s brows raised to her hairline. “Fourteen? Really?”

“He’d been asking my father for my hand since we were eighteen,” you added. “My father refused until Coryo made a name for himself.”

“And of course he would take that to mean he must be crowned King,” Clemensia said. “He was never anything but ambitious.”

Livia smiled and reached for your hand. She gave it a squeeze. “That is so romantic. A man who will take a kingdom so he can earn his love’s hand. People write stories about that sort of thing.”

“That sounds like the stories you would read, petal.“

All other conversation in the parlor had ceased. You didn’t have to turn in your seat to know that Coryo was behind you. His firm hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. A smile pulled at your lips. 

“Do you think all I read is romance?” you said. 

“Not all. But everyone needs something lighter after reading about history and politics all day,” Coryo said. His fingers trailed off the lace of your gown and to the exposed skin by your collarbone. A shiver ran down your spine. Why had you tortured yourself with this tea again? “Besides, you had to get the idea of a love match from somewhere.”

You watched as Clemensia leaned over to Livia. Her voice dropped to a stage-whisper as she said, “Aren’t they much cuter than her and Lord Plinth would ever be?”

Coryo’s fingers curled into your skin. It didn’t hurt, but it reminded you of how you and Coryo lost a friend. Even if Sejanus could leave the Peacekeepers and return to the Capitol, nothing would ever be the same. You couldn’t imagine a world where you all could be friends again. You reached up and took his hand, lifting it to your lips. He relaxed as you kissed his knuckles. 

“Much cuter,” Livia agreed. 

Clemensia’s eyes glinted with mischief as she turned her gaze to you and Coryo. “A shame he enlisted with the Peacekeepers. I wish he could see the two of you so sickeningly in love.”

“Perhaps that’s why he enlisted. Because he couldn’t live with himself if he wasn’t the one making her so happy,” Livia mused. 

Oh, that was such a romantic way to think of it. If only they knew it was because he was so in love with you that he begged you to run away with him. If only they had seen the King so red with anger, how you had thought he would have killed his once-friend with his bare hands. If Livia was writing your story, she would make it seem like Sejanus peacefully stepped out of the picture. She wouldn’t make it seem like the betrayal it was. 

You lifted your chin to look at your husband. While his face was painted to look calm, you could see the anger swirling in his pale blue eyes. You kissed his knuckles again and said, “Why he left doesn’t matter. Not when I have such a wonderful husband by my side.”

Coryo’s tight-lipped smile turned genuine. “And with that, I must steal my wife away. We have important matters we must discuss.”

You held onto Coryo’s hand as you rose from your seat. He led you out of the ignore, the both of you ignoring Clemensia’s giggled “important matters, hm?”. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you walked down the hall. He wouldn’t harm you, you were sure of that, but you didn’t like when he let the anger simmer.

Coryo took you to the office and shut the door behind you. Once alone, he tugged you against his chest and pressed his lips against yours. A gasp escaped you, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. Your arms wound their way around his shoulders. You hand tangled itself in his hair. Well, this certainly wasn’t what you expected, but you weren’t going to kick a gift horse in the mouth. 

“I would marry you again,” he grunted against your mouth. “I would marry you every day for the rest of my life.”

“What’s stopping you? You are King. The only person you let order you around is me, and I would never deprive myself of you again.”

Coryo pulled away. Before you could inquire why, he was sinking down on his knees. He pushed your skirts up, hooked one leg over his shoulder. His nose brushed against your clothed core, wet mouth pressing kisses. Coryo pulled down your undergarments and began to recite his vows. 

“I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward…”

Your stomach churned as you ate breakfast. With every bite, it took tremendous effort to keep the food down. Even with a generous amount of water between bites, it doesn’t seem to help. Part of you wanted to believe it was because you would be meeting with the Electors for the first time since your engagement to Coryo. But you knew it wasn’t nerves. You had had a rare clear schedule two days prior when you found yourself knelt over a chamberpot, the remnants of lunch spilling out with no end in sight. 

“You don’t need to meet with the Electors if you are not feeling up to it,” Coryo said from the other end of the table. He had finished his own breakfast what felt like hours ago. In reality, it had only been a few minutes. Yet every effort to eat your own meal seemed to take eons. “I can meet them on my own, or we can reschedule. No one will fault you if they wish to live.”

The threat was meant to make you laugh, and you might have if the nausea didn’t overwhelm you. A Peacekeeper from the corner of the room raced over with a vessel for your vomit. You heaved until there was nothing left, barely noticing that Coryo had came around your side and was rubbing your back. 

“I take it back. You are not going,” he said. “They should be arriving soon, but I will inform them that we cannot take visitors at the moment.”

You lifted your head. Sweat beaded on your forehead, and you knew you looked as sick as you felt. Still, though, you argued, “I am fine now. I-I just need a moment to freshen up. Whatever sickness that was has passed. I am fine, Coryo.”

“Is that why you pretend I don’t know you have been sick every day this week?”

You had prayed he didn’t notice. A foolish thought, to be sure. But he never made a comment when you would slide out of bed or would excuse yourself from the office. 

“You never said anything.”

Coryo sighed. He ran a hand over your hair, careful not to mess up the delicate pinnings. “Nor did you. I thought you might have wanted space. If you do, I will continue to allow you it. But I will not let you go to meetings and make yourself worse. Go back to our chambers, take a bath, and I will have a physician sent up.”

“Coryo—”

He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Please, petal.”

You frowned, but conceded. When Coryo looked at you with that serious look in his eyes, it was hard to fight back. So you rose from your chair and retreated to your chambers. A lady’s maid was quick to help you out of your dress and undid your hair while another servant drew you a bath. Once in the bath, you tried to push your mind away from your sickness. It was easy to do until a servant came in to let you know the physician arrived. 

Rather reluctantly, you left your bath and slipped on a shift before letting the physician inside your chambers. You offered a tight-lipped smile as he gave a quick bow. 

“Thank you for your haste,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed. The physician pulled the bench by your vanity over so he sat in front of you. “I am certain this will pass soon, but Coryo wanted to be certain.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he said. “I am sure you would much rather return to your duties, so we can make this quick. Could you tell me your symptoms?”

You began to rattle them off, your heart sinking as you began to realize how much you had been sick over the last week. How had Coryo managed to stay silent this long? Did he realize how ill you had been? Judging by the on the physician’s face, you began to worry that you and Coryo had waited too long to do anything.

The door creaked open. Without really thinking of what you were doing, you stood up as Coryo entered the room. He nodded at the physician before coming to your side. You sat together. His hand instinctively took yours. 

“Is everything well?” Coryo asked.

“I will need to ask a few questions first, but I am certain all is well, Your Majesty,” the physician said.

“Ask away then,” Coryo said. 

The physical looked to you. “Forgive me for my bluntness, but when was your last courses?”

Your grip on Coryo’s hand tightened. When had that been? It felt like nearly a lifetime ago. How long ago had it been since you bled? You used to be so diligent about this. Your mother always stressed the importance of it. She would say it would be important when you were married, because that’s when you knew when you would have children. Children. Oh. 

You counted back the days and the weeks, your heart racing as you couldn’t pinpoint the exact time. “Right before the wedding,” you decided. “The day you threw the ball, Coryo.”

Coryo’s head snapped to yours. “That was nearly two months ago.”

The physician smiled. “Ah, well, then that’s likely what’s at issue. I have a few tests we can do to be certain, but I do believe we have found the source of your sickness, Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, you very much wanted to throw up again. Could it really be so soon? You tried to recall married couples that came before you. How long had it been for them? You wanted to say a lot longer. Certainly not a mere two months. 

“Congratulations,” the physician said. “Panem will rejoice when your babe arrives.”

You vomited on his shoes.