#of dynamic n slap on one of three familial dynamics n then call it a day okay 😭😭 i get sick of it

[pyfsan]

You're my best friend

Synopsis: Your mother makes you attend a trip with your family's friends after your break up with your boyfriend. You don't want to talk or see anyone. Except, maybe, Jake... your childhood best friend

Pairing: bff!jake x reader

Genre: smut, kinda fluff (idk???

wc: 3k

warnings: oral (fem rec), sex with no protection (don't do thiiiiss), nipple sucking, friends to ??? dynamics, family gathering ambient, jake is soooo down for her

N/A: honestly there's not much to warn in this one, i feel like it's vanilla but in a good way!!! Please bare with me —smut under the cut

You had just broken up a long term relationship and you're feeling like shit. It has been weeks since that happened but still you were so lost, it feels like yesterday... still your parents insisted on this stupid trip anyway.

"Jake and Julia will be there!" Your mom tells you with a big smile like it was supposed to make you excited too. But you have known Jake and Julia for your whole life now, you're not exactly jumping with the idea of seeing them again.

"Mom, I'm not feeling like family trip right now... please! They'll ask questions and I don't wanna talk about it"

"Then don't talk about it!" She says as if it was that simple. You sigh "You're going. I'm not traveling and leaving my daughter alone here to rot and starve herself for a whole week"

"Fine! Fuck" you say as you walk to room so you pack up your things.

You left before dawn and arrived at the lake house on the evening. Your family's friends were already there, since they also had the keys to the house. Your moms were childhood friends so the families were this close since before you, julia or jake were even born. You loved them, truly, you could not picture your life without them, but right now you are not in the mood to family gathering, dinner at the table and small talk.

"You look disgusting" was the first thing jake said when you arrived. Sure you look bad after weeks suffering with this fucking break up thing you had going on...

"And you smell bad" you say back going straight inside with your backpack on your back.

"Is everything ok?" He asks, getting the heavy backpack off your shoulder to get it upstairs. You bet an eye on him again before seeing Julia getting downstairs. You two hug and she starts talking so you feel glad you don't need to answer Jake's question.

Dinner is torturing, your dad let it slip that you and your boyfriend broke up and you can see pity in everyone's face. They try to ignore the matter after noticing you are almost crying at the table but still... the way they kept eyeing you made it worse. So you just left dinner early and went to your room to crawl on your bed.

Some time later the door opens and you see Julia and her brother entering with bottles of wine in their hands and you can't help but smile. It was a you guys thing to drink hidden in your rooms late at night.

They crawl up the bed with stupid grins that makes you laugh and jake opens up the first bottle.

"When were you going to tell us about the breakup?" Jake starts and julia slaps her brother's arm

"I was preparing myself... sure wouldn't be at the dinner table" you sigh before leading the bottle of wine to your lips. "Just forget you know about it, ok? I don't wanna talk about this tonight"

"And what about tomorrow?" This time Julia raises an eyebrow to you and Jake is the one scolding his sister.

"I don't know. We'll see... but tonight let's just drink, I wanna forget this stupid breakup, I wanna forget him" you say and instantly feel a release for saying these words out loud.

And as the good friends they are, they answer your call. So the three of you spend half the night drinking until two bottles of wine are empty and dry rolling on the floor and you are laid-back with your head hanging out of the bed with Julia. Jake is sitting on the floor near you. You're laughing so hard you feel your ears burn as he starts imitating the way his sister's hands were trembling to talk to some friend of his the other day.

"So this is your thing now? Getting boys to your little sister?" You raise a brow and he gets defensive.

"She's not little, we're exactly the same age!" He explains himself. "And I only did that once because he was a nice guy"

"Can you get me one of these?" You ask, pouting at him but jake suddenly goes awkward.

"I think you're busy right now" he says with a dying smile that gives you shivers. But you ignore that weird feeling and his weird stare

"You're stupid" Julia rolls her eyes before getting up the bed. "To your information I had a fever that day."

"Ok grandma, I'm sure you did" her brother says sarcastic. The thing with Julia is that she's never kissed a guy before and everytime jake jokes about her shyness, she gets angry.

"Fuck it... I'm going to bed" julia stands up leaving the room.

"Damn, she's mad" you murmur to yourself as you watch your friend almost slamming the door. "You shouldn't have messed with her tonight, i need her around" you whine, pushing jake by the shoulder.

"Hey, I'm still here" he protests.

"And what about it? Me and julia would spoon all night"

Jake sighs before standing up and climbing the bed. You watch in silence as he gets himself under your covers.

"Just until you fall asleep" jake justifies when you open your mouth to protest.

No matter how close you are, this is not common. You would share beds as kids or before puberty, but since Jake's voice started changing and your breasts started growing you were both too aware of the fact that you were not actually siblings. Sure you never felt or thought anything about him, you actually got sick of the idea when both your parents would make jokes about you two getting married someday. But you guess cuddling a little won't hurt anyone, specially tonight when you're feeling so lonely.

You accept his cuddle and get yourself under the covers too, feeling his arms embrace your body. It feels cozy and warm and jake is smelling like alcohol.

"You smell like my grandpa right now, pure alcohol" you whisper and he chuckles, his hot breath hitting your neck and giving you shivers

"And you smell nice" he whispers too and you suddenly get the urge to hide your expressions from him so you just force yourself to not smile. "Bryce is fucking stupid for breaking up with you" oh, there it is... you almost sigh but you hold it in, too nervous by the closeness to his body to actually move an inch.

"How'd you know he did it?" Your voice is so low that he almost can't hear you but he does anyway.

"You wouldn't be drinking and crying if you were the one to do it" jake guesses

"Let's not talk about this. I wanna forget him" you say after some awkward seconds in silence.

"Okay" he nods behind you. "Can you turn to face me?" He asks and you feel your body stiffing. You don't know if you can actually face him this close so you hesitate in your place. But then you feel his hand moving from your stomach to your waist and all of a sudden the air smells different. "Y/n" he calls you

You flip your body in one quick move and then you're face to face. You can see him even in the dark, knowing his face so well you don't need much time to recognize his expression.

"Jaeyun" you let slip your voice as he touches your waist again.

"Is it ok?" He asks massaging your skin under your shirt, squeezing it softly with his slender fingers. You nod quietly, feeling shy. "Relax, it's ok" he whispers encouraging you to close your eyes and you do it.

You close your eyes, feeling your muscles ease under his touch. You allow yourself to get comfortable in this situation, even thou there's a sound far away inside your brain yelling to you that this is not ok. Jake is not allowed. This is not an innocent act. But you choose to ignore it, you lie to yourself that this is in fact an innocent act. Until you feel his lips against your own. Until his tongue is parting its way inside your mouth. Until you're guiding your hand to hold his neck. Then you start lying to yourself that jake is allowed and that this is in fact ok.

He traces his way until he's above your body, pressing you down on the mattress with his weight, but you don't even care. He's stupidly hot right now and his mouth is doing wonders to you. Your face is heated, your body is on fire and his tongue is the only thing that can put out that fire.

You find yourself giving up of that thought at the back of your head telling to end whatever this is. Oh no, you're not doing that. You let him pull your shirt up and taste your skin, you let him suck your nipples and let him touch between your legs. In fact, you take his clothes off with your own hands when you find him taking little too long to get there. Jake himself is in awe watching the way you move so swiftly as you undress both of you.

"You're so hot" he says in a way he sounds like not even him was expecting to confess this. You look at your friend, suddenly too aware that this is the guy you've known for your whole life and had a room at your family's house. He looks at you the same way, but not feeling afraid of this fact.

His hands are now on your face and jake gets close again, his lips touching yours softly and making you forget that you are literally at your panties in bed with him. You touch his slin body, feeling with your hands the flesh you've seen only by far but feel like you know every inch of it. You've seen him shirtless around the house, by the pool, at the beach a million times, however you've never thought that he would feel so good on you.

Jake lays on top of you, wearing nothing but his boxers and everytime he presses his hips on yours, you wish this little piece of fabric would vanish.

"Jaeyun" you call him, starting to get uncomfortable with your sticky panties.

"If you keep calling me like that i will think of you like this everytime you say my name" he says as he slips his boxers away and you try to act cool about it. You wanna look at his size, you wanna see how your childhood friend actually is before he is stuffing his cock inside you for real. "What?" He notices your looks.

"This is crazy" you mumble looking at him on his knees between your open legs, hard cock and heavy balls. Not gonna lie, you're blushing.

"Still want me to do it?" He asks, running his hands smoothly on your legs. Although he is asking a question you don't feel like he is not certain of what he wants. "Please, let me do it" oh my god, you're so fucked up. Jake waits for you to say something but you actually just pull your panties down and off, opening your legs for him again.

With no words needed he gets down, face disappearing between your tights. You were not expecting this, so you are chocked when his puffy lips touches your wet cunt for the first time.

"This is crazy" you repeat yourself but this time it sounds more like a moan.

He takes this as a compliment and starts working his tongue on you, nose pressing on your clit time and time again making you almost squirm. He's moving like a feral, mouth eating your entire pussy like it was nothing, it actually makes you drip even more. But this is not what you need right now, you want him to end this madness already. All this making you so horny and it starts to feel like guilty because this should not be happening. So the sooner he fucks you, the sooner it ends.

"Please, come up" you say, poking him with a finger. Jake stands on his knees again, a little confused on why'd you stop if he knows you were feeling good. "I just want you to fuck me and end with this, ok?"

"Oh... fine" he whispers back.

You choose to do it in the same position you were cuddling earlier, his chest against you back. Jake slips his cock into you with ease and holds your upper leg open in the air so the angle is better. When he starts picking his pace you close your eyes tight. It all feels so good it's frustrating... when the bed makes a sound you look at him on alert but his stupid ass only let out a smirk and continues to fuck you.

"This is too loud" you whisper over your shoulder.

"Shut up, no one hears a thing around this house" jake sounds carefree

"How'd you know that?" you ask still scared someone will notice the noise but he doesn't give a fuck...

"My own experience" he says and holds your left boob to play with your nipple with his fingers. It makes you moan instinctively and he smiles with that.

"You're ridiculous" you sigh.

You wake up next day with your mouth dry and head feeling heavy. You did not drink enough for a hangover but still... you guess that wine is just not for you. Then you notice you're fully naked and your underwear is on the ground together with the rest of your clothes. That's when you recall. Jake was here, he has been on this bed and now is somewhere in the house acting innocent around your families. As if he hasn't spend half the night making you moan and squirm over his veiny cock. Oh your head hurts just by the thought...

You get up the bed to get ready for breakfast although probably everybody else have already eaten. So you take a quick shower and get dressed before swallowing your shame and walking downstairs. It's 10pm, your moms are watching tv in the living room with julia and dads are on the kitchen preparing some fishing equipment with jake.

"Good morning, sweetheart" your dad greets you and you smile at him before looking at jake at the counter. He eyes you back as if he's about to say out loud for everyone to hear that he fucked you last night.

"What" he mimics with his mouth over to you and you roll back your eyes. Jake chuckles then goes back to ignoring you.

You go to the fridge and prepare yourself something for breakfast then walk back to the living room to stay with the girls. Julia was making bracelets so you join her after eating your bowl of cereal.

"Who's fishing today?" Julia's dad enters the living room. He was talking to you girls as you always join them when they go fishing on boat, but today you're not really interested in sitting on a limited space with jake.

"I am" julia says standing up quickly. She looks at you, waiting for your excited words too. And when your moms both look at you too you feel pressured.

"I am" you say as you stand up.

Five of you walk out the house, jake approaches you and leaves a bucket on your hand.

"You're doing nothing" he says annoyingly before leaving to walk ahead of you. You wanna start throwing fist right there but you suddenly remember the sound of his whimper and you freeze on place.

This was driving you crazy. Everytime someone looked at you was like they knew what you did and everytime jake would say something was like he was bragging about it. But in fact... no one knows, only you two. And maybe this was even worse considering that jake was the type to act dramatically mysterious when he had a secret. You were doomed.

The group finally gather inside the boat and your dad starts the engines to get it to the middle of the lake. Julia and jake both sit beside you and it makes you nervous again. You look at the view on his side, just as excuse to see him at your panoramic view and he looks as normal as ever. Not carefree, nor mysterious, nor like he's plotting something, not even stressed like you.

"What you looking at?" he asks cockingly but with a smirk after he notice his sister walking away from you. And when you take a bit to respond he leans more to you and whisper in your ear "bet you're thinking about me naked" oh great now your face is red. He is laughing when you face him again and it makes it all even worse. Not that you were thinking of him naked, but was it necessary to out you like that?

"Can you not say stuff like that around everyone?" You whisper back with a serious face and jake starts acting innocent again which is common but still annoying. "I'm being serious, this shouldn't have happened" and that's when his face changes.

"So you regret last night?" He asks with his voice low.

"What the fuck do you think?" You're whispering to him but avoiding eye contact at this point "stop trying to tease me, it won't work" you tell him and leave to sit next to julia on the bow.

For the next two hours you avoid talking or even looking at him. Which is difficult, almost impossible, but you try anyway. And when your dad finally calls it a day to get back to the house, you're feeling drained. You knew it was going to be exhausting to be around people after the breakup but you never thought jake would be the reason.

This stupid guy who you've seen eating nose snot is now looking at you like he would open your bra with the power of his mind only if he could and for the first time in your life this is a real problem. Getting railed is a problem.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: I've Seen This Film Before

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 3.6K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, injuries, harsh language, tw: ANXIETY ATTACKS/RESPONSE, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

—————

I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending

You're not my homeland anymore so what am I defending now?

You were my town, now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before

The booth table at the Tipsy Bison is frighteningly quiet with the attendants staring at each other. You sit on one side of it your hands picking the table and on the other side is your mother…and father. The decision to meet wasn’t on your terms but the constant pressure they put on Tommy until you agreed. Joel and Maria were a hundred percent on your side of not wanting to see them but it seemed they wouldn’t stop harassing Tommy until they spoke to you since you now remained at Joel and Ellie’s home having moved back to your old bedroom. The dynamic between the three of you is different, while your relationship with Ellie never changed but did grow stronger it was the change with Joel. He was more active speaking to you and not at you, asking about you which at first was weird and awkward going into it, but soon it became more natural. While some of the conversations have awkward silences where either of you don’t know what else to say or when speaking with Ellie or the others all together you and Joel had similar quips or reactions. This conversation however was the last thing you wanted. Your fingers continue picking at the wood not making eye contact with either of them.

“Y/n…” Your mother starts and you glance at her through your lashes before returning your gaze to the table, “We wanted to see if you’d rather come back to live with us. Given Tommy and Joel’s gracious work taking care of you we think you overstayed your welcome.” She says and you continue picking at the wood. Your mother knew this was different than all the conversations before you were a child with no sense of autonomy but you were older, mature, having grown up on your own following your rules for self-preservation. Your father's hand slaps hard on the table and your gaze snaps up to stare at him and he looks frustrated.

“Your mother is trying to reason with you,” He says and you narrow your eyes at him before glancing at your mother who looks tired by the circles they are running in and the hoops they have to jump through. You take this chance to look at him. You had the same colored eyes and you’d say the same skin tone, but he also had the same one as your mother. There wasn’t much to take in he looked rugged and a bit haggard for his age. When you imagined your father you didn’t picture this.

“Y/n,” Your mother calls to you and your gaze snaps to her recognizing that tone, “We’re appreciative of all they’ve done but they only watched you as a responsibility. You were only a burden for them to shoulder. You can do good by leaving.” You feel your skin crawl as she reaches out to grasp your hand. You go to pull but her fingers dig into your forearm and your eyes widen as you look at her. Her fingers rest right where those old scars from years ago rest feeling like you dragged back to being held down as the stick carves into your skin burning the flesh raw.

“This is what’s going to happen, when we leave you’re going to go to Tommy and Joel and thank them for all they’ve done and come live with your actual family.” She says her words as a command not leaving any room for discussion, “Do you know how embarrassing it is knowing that my daughter doesn’t want to be with her family like she hates us? Is that it, you hate me so much you’d abandon your father and sister.” She says and you feel a tighten in your chest at her words, the familiar words and demeaning words getting its grip on you.

“That’s not-” “You left Y/n not me. After everything I did to raise you and keep you alive. How do you repay me? By running off and playing family with some people who don’t even know you.” She says releasing her vice grip and standing up.

“Mom stop it,” You say as your father joins her.

“I’m sorry that’s who I am right? I thought that title goes to Maria or do you call Joel or Tommy dad?” She says and your throat tightens at the digs she throws. “Maybe it was a mistake finding you.”

“I’ll go with you!” You grab her arm stopping her from leaving. From letting her abandon you cause of the stupid choices you made. “Please…don’t leave me,” She stops and you shrink at her face when she turns. You really did it this time making her upset. Her hands stroke your cheek and you flinch by instinct. A kiss is placed on your forehead and a single droplet slips from your eyes, you’re not sure she’s ever kissed you. It’s still unnerving by the affection.

“What have I said Y/n about the tears,” She tuts and you quickly rub the tear away sniffling back more. Once she sees them all gone she gives a proud grin, “Alright go run off and let them know of the change. We’ve got placed at the corner of Connors Drive in the blue house.”

It was raining today and most people avoided outside but you mindless walk through the streets to Rancher Street. It was decided to return to Joel’s home where the others would be waiting for the news. Self-doubt crept in if this was a smart idea, just ignore your mother and stay with The Millers and Ellie, but then you would be abandoning your mother and that would kill her. Part of you wanted to run and hide back in your cabin from the world and all those who know you. The familiar home stands before you as you enter the gate your hand tracing the mailbox that reads ‘Joel Miller + Ellie Williams’. Maybe your name could have ended up there. Who are you kidding your mother was right you were only a burden, Joel didn’t need to worry about another person and Tommy and Maria had Liam to take care of.

The door creaks open and those waiting in the living room perk up hearing the sound of the rain outside before the door closes again. Joel had spent the time pacing while the others tried distracting each other but it was hard to. He’s the first to spot you when you round the corner drenched from the rain a conflicted look on your face.

“Kiddo?” Joel starts but you quickly cut him off.

“Thank you guys for everything you’ve done but I going to live with my family now.” You say and you don’t even dare to look at them your eyes glued to your shoes.

“What you can’t!” Ellie stands from the couch still holding Liam and shouts, “You can’t just leave us!”

“I appreciate you taking me in when you could’ve left me in that cell, but I’m done burdening you.” You say and even Tommy who was in the middle ground was shocked by the words coming out of your mouth.

“Burden? Kid, you’re far from that,” Tommy says and you keep your gaze firm away from them.

“You’re not leaving kiddo,” Joel says and for the first time you look at them, “Your reaction to seeing them isn’t how a kid reacts to being reunited with their family, so no you aren’t leaving.”

“You don’t get to make that decision,” You snap glaring at him.

“Y/n she’s not a good mother and you know it,” Maria says and you feel frozen at the callout and everyone else is confused by the sudden comment.

“Shut up,” You hiss shocking them with the sudden hostility and a warning look sent to Maria to keep her mouth shut.

“Wanna tell them who gave them those burns or shall I,” She says, and it's dead silent as it processes through the other three what was just said. Joel was filled with rage, some directed at you for keeping it a secret but primarily at your mother. What woman causes such pain to a child?

“Or how she made you sleep in the cold by a broken radiator, or let you have injuries fester as a child forcing yourself to learn to stitch cuts, treating your garbage and you just defend her,” Maria says with each step towards you and your hands clench in your fists.

“That’s not her,” You respond and Maria scoffs.

“So she didn’t burn you?” She asks and you shake your head.

“No, I did them,” Immediately defensive.

“You’re a liar,” Maria rebuttals, “Y/n I don’t understand why you let her treat you like this. She’s not a good mother.” She tries resting a hand on your shoulder but you smack it away.

“Yes, she is!” You shout your voice shaky until it grows cold, “You don’t get to talk about being a good mother. Where’s your son huh? Some mother you are.” Venom is spat and Maria physically recoils.

“Y/n!” “Hey!” Tommy and Joel shout at you for such a comment, “You’re done, kid. You’re not going back there. I don’t care what they say.” Joel says.

“Fuck you, Joel. You can’t keep me here.” You hiss and he steps forward and grabs your wrist, “If I gotta lock you up until you understand what she’s doing to you then so be it.” It’s instinctually your fist smashes against his face and he cries out and it’s chaos. Joel stumbles back clutching his bloody nose, Ellie is crying with Liam screaming and crying and Maria instantly shields them. Tommy tries to grab you but you dodge his grasp and sprint down the hallway hearing the pounding footsteps behind you, grabbing the bookshelf against the wall and pulling with your strength until it falls over blocking the hallway with a loud crash. Darting into your room where you slam and lock the door hearing the pounding on the door as you shove your dresser to barricade yourself in. Grabbing your pack and shoving anything you can carry.

“Y/n open the damn door!” Tommy shouts and you hear the shouts from Joel, “Fucking kick it down!” As you scramble faster and move to the window hearing a body slamming against the door. The door cracks breaking the lock as it pushes open making the dresser slide, Tommy and Joel spill in seeing the disarray in the room with the open window and the curtains moving in the rain storm.

2 Months Later

It was May the snow long melted but the coldness and tension between yourself and the Miller remains frozen. Since that argument and fight that was the last time you spoke to any of them. You stopped working at the stables from was a hesitant decision but your mother solidified it.

“You’re going to end up running into them and all those emotions will come back,” She said and when you stop showing up to your shifts they got the message and replaced you. Your days consisted of waking up, cleaning the house, taking care of Lila while your mother and father went out to do their community jobs, then just waiting for the day to be over to repeat for the past two months. No one rarely saw you unless you dropped Lila off at the school where you sometimes ran into Ellie but ignored them and rushed back home. There were times your parents would take you out to the Tipsy Bison and you’d see the Millers across the room and they would notice you were there as well, but they never dare approach.

There had been a time when Joel showed up at your home demanding to speak to you and your father answered, the two almost getting into an altercation if Tommy hadn’t dragged his brother home. Now it’s just burning gazes from Joel across the room or when you walk down the street and he happens to be there. When you joined your mother you thought it would be everything you imagine. Being a large happy family but how wrong you are as you are quickly thrust back into the lifestyle you had growing up. Horrible living conditions and little to no acknowledgment from your mother, but it is only once you need to leave those four walls you have to keep up appearances that everything is fine. You lie awake some nights wondering if you made the right choice but quickly shut it down imagining your mother’s voice.

‘You’re such a horrible child how dare you think that.’

‘I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me.’

‘The Millers could never treat you as good as I do.’

‘They don’t understand what’s wrong with you only I can take of you’

‘You can’t abandon me, I love you so much.’

You think when she says ‘she loves you’ it feels emptier each time, but you grow to crave it. Just that hit of praise knowing it was so disingenuous but your twisted mind makes you feel like everything was perfect.

The streetlamps flicker as you carry groceries to restock, your mother wanting you to avoid the people in the early times forcing you to be there right as the close inconveniencing those working there who want to go home, especially with the ridiculous list you have. Your pack is like a dead body on your back as you carry another bag slung across your chest constantly hitting your hip with each step wincing at the bruise that rests there. You had gotten her angry and she shoved you, your hip slammed against the island in the kitchen. It was your fault though. You had taken a nap and slept in at the time Lila needed to be picked up from school leading to the teacher having to go find your mother and father out having drinks at the Tipsy Bison.

The fraying strap from the bag snaps and the items and the bag topple onto the floor spilling everywhere. Curses spill from you as you try to pick up everything salvageable. Some items were broken and you already knew the amount of hell you’re gonna be put through.

“Kiddo?” A voice cuts through the night and you hiss as you flinch cutting your left palm on a broken jar of jam. Your gaze snaps up seeing Joel standing at the corner of the street, he has his pack over his back, and also slung over his shoulder is the object you’ve seen him use on the back porch. He spots the red coming from your palm as you squeeze it with your other hand, “Shit you alright kiddo?” He comes over his hand held out and freezes seeing the small flinch as he gets close to you. He lowers down to a knee as you keep clutching your palm to stop the bleeding.

“I’m fine Joel,” You snap but there seems to be no heat behind it, he can see the tiredness in your eyes, dark circles, and a draining look on your face lacking color and warmth. He slowly takes your hand and you don’t have the will to fight him as he looks over it. Pulling out a bandana he wraps your hand in it tightly and you wince.

“Sorry…” He mumbles and you bring your gaze to the destroyed food. “You need to get it properly wrapped it looks pretty deep.” He says and you rise to your feet holding the broken bag.

“It’s fine Joel really.” You try walking away, but the bag isn’t as secure and you almost drop the items, especially holding it with one good hand if Joel hadn’t swept in.

“Lemme just clean it up okay and fix this shitty strap,” He says and you look at him with cautious eyes, “Then I’ll leave you be,” He says honestly. You knew they would start wondering what was taking too long but you also knew it would take longer trying to talk Joel out of it.

“Just be quick.” You say and you almost catch the relaxation on his shoulders relieved you said yes. Joel takes the bag and leads you properly to sit on the curb underneath one of the streetlights. He gets to work removing his pack and the other object placing it beside you as he pulls out a small first aid kit. He undoes the makeshift bandage and you wince at the cut and the blood that starts flowing again.

“Doesn’t look that deep just needs a cleaning and wrapping,” He says pulling out a small bottle and rag, pouring water on it to clean most of the dried blood off. He reveals a smaller bottle and when he pours it on your fresh cut you hiss in pain trying to pull back but he stops you.

“It hurts!” You hiss and he nods.

“Just some alcohol to kill any germs you’re fine,” He says while pulling out bandages and wrapping your hand. You bring your attention elsewhere to the items that rest on the curb it’s an interesting shape with the strings. It looks like hollow on the inside. Joel seems to pick up on your interest.

“It’s a guitar. It’s a kind of instrument that makes music,” He says and you keep your gaze on the guitar. Once finished with your hand he moves to working on your bag. You can’t help to reach over and pluck a string a sweet noise rings through the air and your gaze snaps to Joel who is watching you with a soft smile.

“You press on this part which are the frets in certain positions to make other notes then pluck the respective string.” He says as you pluck another string that is the thickest it's a very low note, “That’s E.” You then move and pluck the thinnest one and it’s much higher.

“That’s also E.”

“How can they both be E?” You frown and he chuckles slightly and rubs the back of his neck,

“Uh, I don’t know they say the thicker E is used for fuller, richer sound, while the thinner E is better for soloing and playing higher notes.” He explains and you nod. You look seeing he’s finished fixing your bag and you accept the fixed item. He seems to hesitate to speak but decides to.

“If you’re interested in learning I can teach you.” He offers and you look from the guitar to Joel who looks a bit nervous. It did seem interesting and something to keep you occupied, but you aren’t sure your mother would allow that.

“I don’t think I can…I just have a lot of stuff to do at home,” You say and he gives a light ‘Right’ and it grows quiet between you too as you sit on the curb where he is beside you.

“Are you happy there?” He asks and you flash him a surprised look and you grow quiet. If this was any other scenario you would have responded instantly but you weren’t sure why you hesitated to.

“I—” “Y/n.” Your father’s voice cuts through the night and you instantly straighten up in concern and also partial fear. Since living with him he never hit you or got physical like your mother, but you just felt an off feeling from him. Sometimes he would make comments that didn’t feel fatherly and the few times you were alone it felt like he was staring at you for a second too long that made your skin crawl.

“Your mother is waiting for you, what the hell are you doing?” He asks coming over as he grasps your bad hand not paying the bandage any mind tugging you to your feet and you wince at the pressure.

“Careful,” Joel warns immediately rising to stand as well catching you wince as you hold your injured hand to your chest.

“She’s fine, now what are you doing wandering the streets?” He asks and you shrink away from his unsettling gaze.

“I ran into her dropping all these items and cut herself, just patching her up is all,” Joel defends you and you watch the two adults stare down each other before your father gives a grin that doesn’t radiate any kindness.

“That’s so kind of you Joel for taking care of my little girl,” He says while wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his side and you cringe, “Well we better get going, you have a great night Joel.” He forces you to turn and start walking down the street.

“Y/n!” Joel calls out and you stop to glance behind you, “The offer for the guitar lessons still stands,” He says and you see it in his eyes, he’s giving you a chance to call for help. To do anything that’ll allow him to swoop in with no consequences.

“Thanks but she’s already pretty busy back at home. I’ll be sure to teach her though if she’s so interested.” Your father says and you see Joel’s face morph into a frown his cold look directed to your father.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks and your father stiffens at the callout.

“It’s a guitar it’s not rocket science,” He says and the two have a silent showdown before your father speaks again, “Have a good night, Joel.” He keeps leading you as you glance back seeing Joel’s defeated look standing under the streetlamp his guitar still on the curb.

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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[poetryandfluffycats]

Monster ! - Kinktober

A/N: happy spooky season I finished this way quicker than expected so y'all can have it now

Pairing: Vampire Lord!Rei Sakuma x fem!servant!reader

Content: You, a maid in the Sakuma mansion, have been placed on direct service to the heir to the throne himself. On the night of Halloween, he calls you to his chambers.

Warnings: VERY SUGGESTIVE, servant and master dynamic, petnames(my dear, darling), biting, lots of blood mentions

Words: 2.0k

Story under cut!

Nighttime dawned over the Sakuma mansion. Fellow servants went to their quarters, the children were put to bed, and the house fell silent-save for the occasional howl of the wind outside. All was quiet in the house of the vampires.

Tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe. Your bare feet padded gently across the wooden floors, the red, velvety carpet of the stairs providing a nice cushioning and also protecting you from any splinters that peeked out from the old planks. This family and house had been around for centuries upon centuries, going almost as far back as the Tudor period, more so a castle than a home, and the Sakumas were the closest thing to royalty you'd ever encountered. When taking up your role as a maid, you'd been lucky to have been employed by such a generous and prestigious family.

Even luckier to be placed on direct service for the heir to the throne, Count Rei Sakuma.

Jet black hair, pearly white fangs, thin legs and a broad chest all hidden beneath layers of lace and frills, the eldest son who was yet to marry had every woman in the village wrapped around his finger, including you. He called, you came running. He wanted a glass of blood, you'd gladly offer up your own veins served in the fanciest glass in the house. He wanted a warm body beside him, you would jump into his arms no questions asked, no answers needed. Those were the simple facts of the life you lived, a life you'd be living till you dropped.

The lights of the castle were dimmed, reducing the usual glow of the hallways to a dull flicker. Only a few candles were lit at night time, usually outside the children's rooms to keep their minds at ease. You passed by the redwood grandfather clock outside the door to the library, the one that ticked silently throughout the nighttime. 3AM, the witching hour, when spirits arose and ghouls lurked outside the Sakuma doors.

It was only a rumour, but some elders of the house would whisper about how on the 31st night of the 10th month at the 3rd hour, the line between beast and human blurred, and the monsters you worked alongside would be at their deadliest.

Silly tales for young children was what you always regarded those stories as. You weren't scared of vampires or ghosts, working in the vampire kingdom would do that to you. Rei wasn't a monster, he was just a man who needed blood to survive.

"Count Sakuma? I come baring your evening drink, sir" You spoke softly through the door, knocking your fist against it three times and waiting for the response. In your hand, a glass of deep crimson, with two teaspoons of honey mixed in just as your lord liked it. "May I enter?"

There was silence from the other side of the door for a few seconds, but very quickly came the sound of rustling sheets and light groaning from the man inside. "Come in, my dear"

Darkness swallowed up the room as you entered. Rei sat still as a statue in his coffin, his body and modesty protected by a thin blanket that had pooled around his thighs when he sat up right. You had to strain your eyes to make out his figure properly, but those ruby eyes of his never failed to shine. At times you swore they were lighting up the room all by themselves, and during those times you had to mentally slap yourself for thinking such things.

Rei wasn't a monster, he was far too elegant for that. In his silk nightgown with newly washed hair falling around his shoulders and his pale skin glistening under the cracks of the moonlight through the curtain.

He was beautiful.

"Here you are, sir. I apologise if I woke you" You bowed slightly as you handed him the glass. He took it eagerly, his well-manicured fingers brushing gently against your own sending a wave of anxiety down your spine and all the way into your stomach.

Rei shrugged, pressing the glass to his lips and taking a long sip, "No bother, I shall not berate you for doing your job. Besides, I would hate to fall into slumber before getting to see my favourite servant"

You were no stranger to compliments from the Count, he did it to every woman in the building. For yourself, some of his favourite nicknames included 'darling', 'honey' and the most recent addition to the list 'my dear'.

He was a true flatterer, the ladies all ate it up like a five course meal. You could never quite fight off the urge to drop to your knees and beg him for more each time those sweet words of praise left his glossy lips. You were aware of how inappropriate that would be, and Rei was already on his fathers watch list regarding this flirtatious nature towards the staff, but a girl could dream.

Bowing once again, you felt a blush creeping onto your cheeks. Although vampires were know for their keen night vision and had the ability to sense emotions through the sound of the blood running through your veins, Rei always seemed to turn a blind eye to your embarrassing acts, acting as if he didn't even notice when your heart rate arose and your face turned a pretty shade of red-just like the liquid in his glass.

"Your compliments are greatly appreciated, my lord, but I'm not quite sure what you mean. I'm only a maid, a novice one at that. Surely I don't deserve such words" Your eyes stayed glued to the floor. It was carpeted with the finest wool money could buy, dyed the same burgundy as his eyes.

Rei tutted, waving a finger dismissively at you, "Nonsense, nonsense. Why would I call you down here if you weren't the greatest? Any kitchen hand could have easily made my drink and brought it to me, but you are the only one who makes it exactly to my taste. You are no mere maid to me"

He set the now half-empty glass down on his bedside table, shifting his legs and sitting criss-cross to make room for you in the coffin. His legs were long and his knees pressed up tightly against the walls of the small box.

"Come now, sit. Don't you think this is a wonderful night to enjoy conversation with your master?" Rei flashed a smile, his fangs peeking out from his gums. The sight sent a wave of warmth through your body, the same feeling you got when he grazed your hand with his own. "Unless, you prefer not to...?"

"No!" You accidentally yelped out, way louder than you had intended too. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you cleared your throat and lowered your tone. Get it together (name)! "Ah, I mean- no, I would love to stay"

A grin spread over the mans face, and you swore you could see his eyes twinkle just a tiny bit, "Thats a good girl"

Your hands were trembling when you climbed into the coffin beside Rei. Not out of fear per say, more so out of anticipation. You tired to ignore the hidden intent behind Reis eyes as he stared into yours, watching with too much interest as you tucked the skirt of your night dress under your legs. The orbs scanned up and down your figure like a hawk.

The air around you felt thicker in the small space. You weren't claustrophobic in any way, but in his moment you couldn't help but feel as if the world was closing in on you, leaving only you and Rei and the thumping of your heart against your rib cage. He was close, closer than he had ever been.

A shaky breath left your throat when he leaned in, his mouth just inches away from your own. The blood he just drank was still fresh on his breath, a strong stench of cooper and just the slightest hint of sweetness from the honey mixed in.

"Have I ever told you how much I love Halloween?" Rei hummed, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek. His thumb rubbed up and down on the flushed skin, his other hand being carefully placed on the nape of your neck. "Its the only night a year I may act freely on my urges, when my kind is worshipped by yours as they should be"

"Yes.... Count Sakuma, I'm failing to understand-"

"Call me Rei" He interrupted. "I have a name, I'd like for my darling to use it"

His lips were dangerously close to your neck now, leaving teasing licks all over the sensitive area. Your head was screaming at you to do something, anything! But was that something to throw him off, or to rip his clothes off? To scream and run, or to moan and beg? It was like a magnetic pull between your heart and your head were battling each other but they were both on the losing end.

All the confusion and convictions in your head came to a halt when Rei finally lost his patience and sunk his teeth deep into your flesh.

"Ah! Rei! Fuck!"

The pain was immediate and felt like a thousand needles filled with acid had been injected into your skin all at once. A burning sensation that you couldn't tell if you liked or absolutely despised. His tongue lapped up the blood that trickled out of the wound and he let out a chesty moan, the vibrations on your skin heading straight down to your core. With your eyes screwed shut and both pleasure and pain rushing through your body like the current of a raging river, the tears started to fall.

It was too much, so much. You'd never felt something so overwhelming in your entire life. Reis hand that previously sat on your cheek moved to your waist as he continued to suck, griping your skin tight and using all of his strength to pull you into his lap, pushing you downwards onto his crotch.

The sounds that left his mouth were borderline obscene, erotic, horrifying. An untamed beast had been unleashed from the depths of his soul and was feeding on you, it was a demon who only longed for the taste of a young ladies blood and the feeling of her flesh ripping apart in his mouth. This being, whatever it was, had no morals whatsoever.

You were basically a lifeless blob by the time he pulled away, gasping and pleading with noises that didn't make much sense. "Please... no more, I'm gonna pass out"

The vampire grinned, his fangs stained red and his lips swollen from excessive sucking. Blood ran down his chin and he licked it up with a pleasant hum, eyes rolling straight into the back of his skull. He was clearly in a state of pure bliss. "Good grief, it appears I've gone to far. You'll have to forgive me, its been awhile since I've indulged in feeding from the source itself"

Nodding, you pulled up one of your stiff arms to rub the wound on your neck. It stung, and two small holes remained from the bite and would probably stay there for the rest of your life.

"Are you alright? I will not hold you back if you wish to retire your position in the household, it is not my intention to make you uncomfortable" Reis voice had a hint of sadness to it, and his eyes glossed over with a certain tiredness you couldn't quite place. Had he been through this before?

You shook your head, trying to ignore the aching headache that came with it. "No! My lord-I mean Rei! This was the most intense pleasure I've ever experienced! I will not be leaving you anytime soon"

Rei grinned, a content smile that lit up your heart. You couldn't help but grin back like an idiot, and despite the fact that you were in no shape or form to move your body seemed to move on its own to press your lips against his.

"Then, I trust you will be returning to my chambers tomorrow evening?"

[deblklesb]

[Three Strikes — Abby x Reader OneShot]

[established relationship, fem! reader, MDNI]

CW: name calling, semi-public masturbation, dom!abby, humiliation, degradation, pussy slapping, face grabbing, dacryphilia, edging, sub!reader, after care (more like middle care i guess?), the safeword isn't mentioned but it's already established too.

a/n: this took me TOO long to finish but i did it!!! anon tell me if you enjoy it, i truly hope you do 💗💗 reblogs keep the word turning y'all

word count: 3,6k | not proof read

The whole day Abby couldn't keep her hands to herself, but it was driving you insane.

On a beautiful, sunny day, you both were at a family party. Her father was retiring from the hospital and everyone was celebrating this new phase of his life. There was tons of food and a bunch of relatives, children running around, a nice music filling the air and the smell of the barbecue being prepared were messing with your senses already.

As a very socially embarrassed person, you always tried to keep a good impression in front of her family: being in your best behavior, smiling to each relative, answering questions and engaging in conversations as well as you could. Demanded too much of your social battery, but at the end of the day you could always try to put an effort for her, it was worth it.

But here's the thing: today, Abby wasn't in her best behavior. She kept touching you, kissing your neck, pushing you to empty corners, sneaking out to her old bedroom just to have an alone time. You both couldn't do much, so it was frustrating and painful and it was killing you inside. That ache between your legs grew at each sneak out, you always ended up with heart racing and bewildered in front of her relatives later, trying so hard to keep your mind in the right place. For God's sake, you had to hide a prominent bite from her 58 year-old aunt during a conversation, and the whole time Abby was looking at you from the other side of the room like she could undress you, with those piercing blue-eyes, from afar. The heat crept up your body; damn her and her effect on you.

"You have to stop!" Your voice cracked when she kissed your shoulder, strong hands on your waist pulling you closer while she bent to taste the skin on your cleavage. More time and you would surrender completely inside that bedroom, making a scene that would send her grandma into a cardiac arrest. Still, you had both arms around her shoulders.

"Just a little bit, hun…", her voice would make you crazy. "You're looking so good, being all polite today"

"Fuck, Abigail Anderson!" Finally you pushed her, adjusting your dress even though all you wanted was to come back and let her do her thing with you. Then you held her face and stared at her. "You have got to stop!"

And it was the look in her eyes that said it all: you were never demanding, never this aggressive, and it was the first strike. Not seriously, like in a relationship dynamic, but more when talking about… Sexual dynamic. She was the dominant one, you love to surrender, and talking back is a no-no. You could already feel that ache growing just by her expression. Fuck, maybe talk back wouldn't be that bad…

"Okay", was all she said, face still between your palms. "I got a bit carried away"

And she didn't say anything further. Although the conversation ended there and you gave her a small kiss before leaving the bedroom, something in the back of your mind reiterated that it wasn't as simple as that.

Later, after lunch, you got up from your place to drink a glass of water and when you came back those same hands pulled you closer, while she opened space for you to sit comfortably on her lap.

"I remember Abby always asked to go to the hospital with me. No matter how much I refused, she kept asking. One time, I swear, she cried until I agreed to take her. No doubt she ended up working inside a hospital", her father was talking and making people chuckle about it. Abby, on the other hand, roller those beautiful eyes and smirked.

"Come on, dad! Don't need to expose me like that"

"There's not much to expose, love, we all know you're a brat", you murmur under the hem of the cup, before sipping the water.

It was a simple comment only for her to hear, but apparently it went louder than expected and now a bunch of people were laughing.

"Damn right! When she was little I had to deal with scenes when she wanted to watch cartoons", her aunt said back.

Your face heats up, insides twirling under the aspect of being in the center of the attention, and while smiling fondly your girlfriend rests her face on your arm.

"That's strike two, babe", why the fuck her voice always sounds so good when whispering?

Her hand presses your waist and you clench the thighs, almost choking with the water.

The moment passes as a sign on the road, and when you notice you both are saying good-byes to everyone. The night is fresh and starry, and as Abby drove to your shared apartment you kept looking at her.

Calmer now, with the thought of going home in mind and the relief of not being around that many people, you relax in your seat and take in the sight of her.

Her eyes are locked on the road in concentration, lips calling for you as she keeps driving. Her side profile is really gorgeous, just like every other detail that makes you quiver just by thinking about it. You distinctly remember being so intimidated by her at first, because she was so serious and stressed.

You both met at the hospital, when you had to check in due to an injury so bad people thought you needed surgery. Abby was the professional at the emergency, and after taking a look at you she ran out to receive another patient, pretty much stressed out with the movement in the room. You barely talked, since you were in pain and trying to hide the embarrassment of needing an emergency treatment because of a stupid game.

"You said you were doing what?", she asked when she came back to check on you.

"Dancing on a coffee table", you murmur, pain significantly less intense after the medication.

"Now why would you do that?" She was looking at the medication bags, but you still felt your face getting warm and looked to the other side.

"I lost a game", and after she chuckled you rolled your eyes. "Come on, I'm sure I'm not the most stupid person in this room"

"Oh, you're absolutely not!" Her voice was different now, and when you turned back at her a fond smile adorned her pretty features. After adjusting the bags, she leaned over closer to your ear. The sudden lack of space startled you, but there was no time to process before she started talking again. And that was the first time you melted under her voice. "See that guy there? Swallowed a bunch of small plastic soldiers just to show off to his friends"

"What?!", you widen your eyes while she laughs, a cute little giggle.

"Last week a woman got here with a deodorant cap inside of her"

"What? But how-", the answer to the unfinished question comes when she just looks back at you, eyebrows a little bit arched, and then you're feeling your face getting warmer again. "Oh… Jesus"

And you both laugh together.

Looking back, you still don't know how you'd end up with her. But as much of an unexpected event, you're so glad you did it because you get to love the most amazing woman on earth.

"Why are you looking at me like that, babe?" She smirks when noticing you staring, all cocky and flustered. You're so dumb for her.

"Nothing", you smile back, a hand traveling to her thigh. "Just admiring you…"

"Liking the view?"

"Too much" An idea sparkles so bright you can't deny yourself the opportunity. You have to contain the smile, but not later the words come out. "You were very touchy today…"

"Yeah, you look too nice in this dress, still can't believe you put it on just to impress my family", she chuckles, a hand caressing your own exposed leg. "You know you didn't had to"

"I was kinda in the mood", she just hums in response, eyes on the road. "Y'know, it was a big surprise you didn't take advantage of it to touch me more, you were so clingy…"

"I didn't… Well, I certainly thought about it. But why are you talking about it now, you sure didn't let me go further then"

"Because we were in your family house and I didn't want to cause a scene", your fingers on her leg travel further in between her thighs, and then your free hand is doing the same with yourself. "But I can't deny I surely thought about it too"

She looks at you briefly, already getting the idea you're setting here. You know very well the traffic won't let you get home that fast, and how she takes driving seriously so she won't do anything while there. So Abby won't touch you at all… But that doesn't mean you can do it yourself.

"No. Don't do this", her voice is warning, serious now, and you recognize the tone because it's what she uses with you in the bedroom.

"But love, you won't be doing anything, you can drive", she hates every second of it as soon as your legs separate a bit and your hand go down inside your dress. She hates it, because all she wants it's to touch you herself.

And so you do. You fucking masturbate in the car, moaning and biting your lips, arching your chest, letting yourself go by the sudden desire that hits your body as soon as you get to see Abby in all her glory in a most private place.

By the time you get home, the adrenaline of the situation made the high easier and so you're soon hopping out of the car, legs kinda shaky. But your girlfriend was now pissed, fuming, silent and serious - and, oh, after so many times in that relationship you learned that silent and serious Abby is the most dangerous Abby.

She doesn't say a word on the elevator, the waiting thickening the tension as you both stand close inside the moving cabin. Her fingers are uneasy, like she's restraining herself to act up, and you just can imagine where they will be later that night.

As soon as the doors open, she walks out and goes on a beeline to the door. Glancing at her, you almost stop on track with her stare, so fucking piercing it could unravel you.

That was probably too far.

"That was strike three", she whispers as you unlock the door.

You expected her to take you as soon as you both get inside, but she doesn't. Instead, she proceeds like per usual, still restless, but your mind just stops functioning for a second because she's acting casually. Taking her shoes off, going to take a shower, making small talk.

The tension inside of you keeps growing, anxiety creeping, and a bit of disappointment making you pout everytime she gets closer but doesn't act. At some point she just gave you a peck on the lips and called you cute, but went sitting on the couch to watch something you were definitely not interested about. The sight of her in sweat pants and tank top made you quiver, why is she so fucking hot all the time?

In the meantime you also showered and changed clothes, and after all you end up standing in the living room, staring at her.

This isn't fair. She spent the whole day trying to get into you, and when you're finally ready she just ignores you? Leaving you needy like that?

"Abs, what's that all about?" You finally puts out, still standing.

"What, babe?" She briefly looks at you before turning to the TV again and it makes you extremely mad. She definitely notices the single shirt covering your body and stays quiet.

"You're… You're ignoring me", your demeanor changes, less pissed and more sulking.

"What? What are you talking about, come here", she taps the place next to her on the couch, where you sit. Her big, warm hand rests on your thigh as she looks at you more attentively. "What is it?"

"It's just… I thought you were… We would- You know", the words are a mess. It frustrates you to not be able to communicate, but after that overstimulating day you want nothing more than to step back and relax. Processing words it's not a part of the ideal scenario.

"Oh, you mean… You thought I would fuck you?" She's still casual about it, which deepens your sulking. You nod, receiving an arching of her brows. "Oh, so this is what this is about?" Before you can answer, she just throws: "You were so caught up in your little game that you forgot that stuff doesn't go just as you wish… Poor baby, sometimes you're such a dumb slut", she sulks in mocking.

Your face gets warmer as you find it harder to speak, too stunned. And she chuckles.

The sudden humiliation gets into your body in the form of a wetness between your legs and a sinking sensation in your stomach, the two things added to a deep need to look away. But you refuse to, you can't let her have that much so soon.

"Do you want me to take care of you?"

"Yes", you nod again, legs instinctively turning to her a bit as you lean closer now. Her hand caresses your skin, thumb going down in between your thighs as she looks at you like she's playing.

"What's the magical word?" Her breath reaches your face and you are so close now, the desperate need to kiss her growing inside. Fuck her.

"Please", you whisper, nose touching hers.

"Open your legs", she instructs.

You obliged, her hand traveling to hold your leg in that position whilst the free one lightly touched your core. The anticipation for long was consuming you from inside out, and the additional contact, just where you needed, was igniting the fire.

"Oh, look at that…!" She smiles at the perception that you're not using panties. "My sweet slut it's showing off"

The experience passes like a blur into your mind until she finally takes your shirt off and lays you down into the couch. After she almost made you cum once but left you hanging there, whiny and desperate, so close to begging after just a moment of her touches.

You moan so loud when she holds your face into a strong hand of hers, and the other sinks two of her fingers into your wet pussy. It's not just the overstimulation after you got so close to that high. It's all the tension from before, the way she keeps laughing and chuckling at the way you move your hips and her stare.

"Taking it so well, you're such a whore right?" You nod, remembering how she doesn't like when you don't answer. "Yes, yes you are. Needy and ready for being fucked, this pussy dripping when you think of me", you nod again and again.

Inside that river of sensations you scratch her back and arms. She gasps, digits massaging your insides as you tip into that high again.

Just the grip on your chin and the closeness would be enough to get you drunk on her massive presence. The way some strands of honey-blonde hair fall around your face, her bulky body on top of yours, the heat radiating from her. It's madness, it's like hypnosis. But right now she also fucking you so raw, so deep, and you just wanna scream with the amount of feelings inside. Your hips buckle up and your nipples are hard with the exposure, you just wanna come all around.

"Abby, please, I wanna… Fuck, I'm gonna-"

And she fucking retracts again. Her fingers get out from between your walls and you moan in desperation, small nails digging into her flesh the best it can as tears start to come.

"Fuck no, no, no, no", you shake your head, absolutely helpless with tears rolling down your face, before your girlfriend slaps your exposed pussy.

"Hungry bitch", you squeal with her velvety voice, body trembling under the slaps. Your core is already so fucking sensitive but it doesn't hurt like someone outside would imagine. No, the sting makes you clench around absolutely nothing and you think you just get wetter with pleasure. "Why are you crying, hm? Tell me, fucking say it"

"I wanna come, fuck", the pronunciation it's not the same since she's still holding your face, but you don't care. You'll let her humiliate you like this, have you begging for more, if it meant you could come just once with her fucking you. "Fuck me until I come, Abs, please"

Your face heats. She really can get you like that after edging you just twice. Any other time you'd take more of that torture, but not today. Not after a whole day of teasing.

"My mouth of my fingers, choose fast", and she fucking keeps going with all the teasing because she knows you can't function that fast in moments like this.

You freeze for a second, still processing the question, when she slaps your pussy once more and you clench, moaning. That would make you cry again.

"Mouth or fingers", her tone it's firmer but you can see she's enjoying this whole thing. She's probably soaking wet herself.

"Mouth! Mouth, your mouth"

And she's soon kneeling in front of the couch, lips connecting to your dripping core as fast as she can and you gasp. Her face between your thighs is a sight to be admired, especially considering the way she seems so hungry. Abby eats you out like a starving woman, using her tongue in the best way while her strong hands push your legs open. The vision, added to the sensations of the wet contact and the explicit sounds, makes you tremble.

Riding her face like a desperate, you hold her head and pull it in the direction of your pussy, like that way she'll do more, your high will come faster. But really it doesn't make any difference to her, or she's just keeping the same tempo to piss you off. In spite of that, the way her tongue tortuously laps your core starts to take moans and gasps out of you. You're already too stimulated, something tells your body won't wait for long before tipping down into that high again. And Abby knows it.

Deviously, she increases her ministrations gradually and holds you in place. The contact of her hands on your thighs almost makes your skin burn. Your nipples rigid against the cold air, toes curling and choppy breaths, eyes rolling back; you're a mess now.

Heat blooms in your core and a chill runs through your body, and then you're moaning louder. It's coming strong, and as soon as one of your hands grabs a cushion you call your girlfriend's name in warning. Abby goes faster, enjoying the view of you losing your mind on her mouth, without saying how much that makes her wet.

When you start to murmur her name non-stop, almost crying again, hips twitching and legs shaking, it comes. And it's cathartic the fact that she lets you finish this time. The release is mind-blowing.

Your back arch, every single sensation almost disappears for a second because you can only focus on that orgasm.

Abby holds you in place when you start to move, your legs trying to close around her head and your body contorting, trying to put a break into the overstimulation. She doesn't let it, though, continuing to taste you in her tongue and groaning against your soaked pussy.

"A-Abs!", you scream, pulling her hair again.

With a last fat lick, the blonde finally backs away with a devious smirk.

You still have twitching hips when she kisses your abdomen, trailing the caring act up your front until she can kiss your chest. Abby holds you by the waist and her heat involves every inch of you when she pecks your shoulder.

It all seems to pass through your vision like an out of body experience, but in contrast the tactile sensations are loud. You like having her close like this, and soon you're holding her face with all the care in the world to peck her lips over and over, still catching your breath.

"You okay, babe?" Abby smiles when you nod in response, faces so close you can feel her breath mixing with yours. "Wasn't too much?"

"It was perfect, love"

You wanted to stay like this forever and so as soon as she gets up you're making a face of discontent.

"Won't you… I wanted to make you feel good too"

Unlike yours her body still has all the clothes, which you just noticed because she decided to move away. Her hair is kinda messy and despite the look being to stay at home the woman still looks so gorgeous.

Thinking about the fact that she almost took your soul out minutes before, it's unfair you don't get to make her come too.

"Drink some water, sweetheart, and then we can continue. Okay?" Her voice comes from the kitchen, and you just get to verbally agree before she returns with a glass in hand.

The blonde sits next to you on the couch, caressing your neck and shoulders as you sip the liquid.

"You didn't think I would do just this after your joke in the car, right?" She whispers, smirking when you roll your eyes. Her hand rests on you exposed thigh, sensitive skin sending the feelings straight to your core. "You think you'll be that bold while I ride your face?"

[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful thing - ch.13 (alt)

wc: 4.9k

genre: political thriller (ish), slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: slowburn ben x reader, mal x ben, homoerotic tension between mal and evie

warnings: mentions of back alley cosmetic procedures, questionable needles (for botox not drugs), detailed descriptions of emotional flashbacks, themes of c-ptsd, mentions of emotional abuse and child neglect, falling into old dynamics, the parents are all implied to be narcissistic and emotionally abusive

this chapter has been edited to remove themes of EDs, body dysmorphia, and similar themes. this does not effect the over all plot of the chapter. stay safe babeses, I love you <3

!!LINK TO THE ORIGINAL CH., READ WARNINGS!!

summary: much like king arthur, you meet with a lady in a lake. Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos get a "fun surprise" that's more of a slap to the face. Mal decides to stress bake. There's a confrontation in the kitchen.

song recs: twisted - aviva, runs in the family - amanda palmer, thick skull - paramore, trigger - hayley williams, mad hatter - melanie martinez

a/n: shout out to my psychiatrist for bumping up my adhd meds!!!! love you kim!!!!!! literally wrote this in one sitting and I could not be happier. also surprised myself w this one a little lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777 @pain-in-the-ashe

When acquiring a particularly interesting piece of information, especially when it is in one's best interest to keep the source of said information confidential, it isn't uncommon to use the phrase, “a little birdy told me”. Most find this to be nothing more than a twisting turn of phrase, unless that someone would happen to be from Wonderland. Wonderlandians, you see, have quite a way with words - especially those which come from birds. When one has heard a word from birds, that's a sure sign that time is of the essence. It was birds that saved Snow White's life, rushing through the forest to warn the dwarves, as well as many other less popularized accounts of such heroism and quick witted messenging. 

All this is to say, if a little birdy tells you something, it’s in your best interest to believe them. 

The bird before you in this instance, is a rather frantic little chickadee. She swooped down to find you, losing a few feathers in the process. “Miss Liddell! Miss Liddell!” She cries, fluttering over to you, worked up into quite the tizzy. “Oh dear, Miss Liddell-”

She chirps and sputters, trying to gather her scrambled thoughts. 

“What is it?” You ask, brow furrowing as you lean in to listen.

“Oh Miss Liddell, it’s about Ben.”

Those three words caught your attention firmly, like a dodo in the jaws of a bandersnatch. 

“What about Ben?” You ask, voice growing lower and more urgent. 

“She- she’s down at the lake, you must go see her!” 

“See who?” You implore, trying to understand the bits and pieces falling frantically from her beak. 

“There’s just no time! Come quickly!”

You scurry across the school grounds for several minutes before plunging into the forest. You pause, calling up to her. “Ms. Chickadee!”

She flutters back over. 

“What, what? We have to go!”

You remember suddenly that you can get there much more quickly with a rabbit hole. Once you’ve explained this to her, she nods frantically. After a quick slip into Wonderland, you pop right back out on the shore of the enchanted lake. In your haste, you nearly tumble right into the lake.

“Oh- goodness!” You exclaim, scrambling back onto the shore. Your skirt is damp and muddy, as are your hands. But you pay no mind to that, nor the snags now torn into your stockings. Your breath heaves the chilly evening air as clouds roll in, making the skies seem even darker, and you look around frantically. You’re unsure what you’re even looking for, but you trust the brave Chickadee who delivered your message. 

There’s a trilling noise above you, and you look up to find Ms. Chickadee in the flesh - or rather, in the feathers - as she lands on a nearby branch. Her little body heaves as she catches her breath, and she chirps out another trilling note. A moment later, the water of the lake ripples, beginning to rise as a fluid figure emerges.  

Your eyes widen as a Naiad takes shape before you. Her hair is curly at the bottom, and carefully braided and wrapped in little sections, like the graceful rivulets of a waterfall as it cascades down her back and shoulders, blending back into the lake where they meet. 

“Oh…” you begin, intrigued and curious. You crouch down to speak to her so as not to loom over her intimidatingly. Looming intimidation, you feel, is something that should be used sparingly, and not when one is being gifted with help, or valuable information. 

“Hello.”

She looks right back at you with an equal - if not more nervous sort of intrigue. She waves. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” You say, bowing your head and gripping your muddy skirt hem to curtsy as much as you’re able to in your crouched position. “I didn’t know there were any naiads at the Enchanted Lake, or surely our paths would have crossed sooner.”

“There aren’t. Not usually.” She says in a soothing tone as her words flow from her lips. “I’m a bit of a shy duck. I like being somewhere that I won’t be disturbed, where I can keep to myself.”

“Naturally.” You nod, sensing her relax slightly at your understanding. She moves closer, leaning in to speak more freely, lowering her voice into an urgent whisper. 

“Well, I can feel it when somebody uses the lake’s magic.” She begins, the water around her rippling more quickly as she begins to get worked up at what she saw. “When Prince Ben and that- that purple fairy were here… something strange happened.”

The realization strikes you that this naiad could know exactly what happened to Ben, what Mal did to him. You lean closer, as does she, seafoam bubbling up around her edges as she stretches out to you. 

“It felt like- like mind control.” She says in a babbling whisper. “When Prince Ben submerged himself in the lake, it…”

She shakes her head, staring at nowhere in particular at the memory. 

“I’ve never felt anything like it. Not in all my years in the lake. I- there was a moment I feared the lake wouldn’t be able to break it.” She says, voice trembling as her eyes brim with tears. They spill, but she nods her head quickly. 

“But it did.”

The relief that strikes you in that moment is positively unmatched by anything else you think you’ve ever felt. Hope finally seems tangible, a solution, a resolution glowing as a pinprick of light in the distance of this suffocatingly dark tunnel of misfortune Mal has carved your way into. 

“But then… there was something else.”

Just like that, the flame of hope you were so desperately tending to flickers. 

“That purple fairy… she made a wish.” She begins. Dread and relief war within you. “And stranger still-”

She leans in even closer, stretching up to meet you as you stretch down, trying not to fall right into her lake. Cool water mists onto your skin as she speaks in an anxious whisper. 

“It was granted.”

Your stomach sinks like an anchor into the wet, wet mud of an unfamiliar shore. 

“I can’t say what it is she wished for-”

“Naturally.” You nod, agreeing. It is never the right of another to say what someone else wished for. Speculation is one thing, but knowing is another. 

“But…” she hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’s trying to say. “Her own conflicted heart will be her downfall. It’s very likely that she will break the conditions of her wish all on her own.”

Like the cooling gel of an ‘ello-vera plant after much time spent bathed in moonlight, a tentative sort of relief washes through you, soothing the frayed ends of your nerves. It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but like your mother always says, beggars can’t be choosers, and choosers can’t be indecisive. This is a much better piece of information than it could have been, and you nod gratefully as she continues.

“Her wish, despite everything, is only a temporary benefit to her, I suspect. Don’t preoccupy yourself with that over everything else, it cannot possibly last very long at all. When put to the test, she will not be ready to succeed.” She says urgently. “Don’t lose sight of your goal - see the rivers for the ocean.”

Her words seem to sear themselves into your mind and heart. You let out a soft, determined breath. 

“I can’t begin to thank you enough for this,” you say in a low, intent voice. “Please, tell me if there’s anything you should need in return.” You promise, standing up. 

The naiad nods anxiously, and looks around.

“Good luck!” She says quietly before disappearing back into the depths of the lake, leaving only a swirling current and bouncing ripples in her wake. 

Her words echo in your mind as you stand up, not caring one bit for the mud and water on your clothes. See the rivers for the ocean. See the trees for the forest. That’s something you can certainly do. 

A video call from your parents when you’re away at boarding school should be a good thing. A chance to douse the flames of homesickness that have no doubt been burning away within you for as long as you’ve been away. But in truth, it depends on who your parents are, and how you feel toward each other. In Mal’s case, the answer to both is bad. Both literally, and figuratively. This callous truth also applies to Evie, Carlos, and Jay, a knowledge and camaraderie they share as they sit anxiously at their desks in the Remedial Goodness classroom on a Saturday. 

“Now, as you know,” Fairy Godmother begins, addressing the students with a warm, anticipatory smile. “Sunday is family day here at Auradon Prep. And because your parents can’t be here due to- uh,” she sputters, looking for the most gentle way to say locked up on an island, as if the four of them weren’t raised in the prison built from their parents’ sins.

“Distance,” she decides. “We’ve arranged for a special treat.”

Their stomachs collectively sink as a large screen is rolled out in front of the blackboard, twisting with a sickening feeling. Evie’s breathing immediately picks up, and she finds herself fussing with her hair and nails, tugging at her clothes and trying to apply a little more lip gloss without anyone noticing. She drags a finger under her lower lashline, knowing she gets a little mascara fall out around this time of day. 

Carlos places Dude on the ground, his heart breaking for the dog as he nudges him away as gently as he can with his foot until Dude gets the message, scurrying off and watching him sadly. Jay is already shrugging off his tourney hoodie and wiping the smile off his face, waiting with a stoic scowl and crossing his arms defensively in a way that hides the shake in his hands. 

“I don’t see anything… nor do I hear-” 

The sound of her mother’s voice drains all the blood from Mal’s face in a way that no amount of blush could disguise. She rubs at her lips with the back of her hand, taking off the strawberry flavored lip gloss Evie had managed to persuade her to wear that morning. She’d been so excited about it, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole strawberries thing… you’ll have to tell me if this tastes the same! Her brilliant Evie had managed to find strawberry flavored cosmetics, just because Mal couldn’t stop talking about how delicious they were. 

She rubs at her eyes, smudging the light makeup Evie had taught her how to do, feeling a sinking sense of grief as she ruins it. This was the first time she did it by herself - well, the first time Evie only had to hold her hand a little bit - and she makes a mental note to apologize to Evie for ruining their work later. Armed with chapped lips and dark rings smudged around her eyes, she strategically scratches at her scalp, hoping her hair looks damaged and unkempt, just like it always is. Was. Like it should be. 

She doesn’t need to look at her friends to know they’re all feeling exactly the same thing. Evie flips over her papers, hiding the A- grade she’d received yesterday and been beaming about ever since. Carlos guiltily rips off a bit of his breakfast bar and tosses it out of view, wordlessly trying to apologize to Dude for shoving him away so suddenly. 

Jay shoves his beloved Fighting Knights team hoodie that he’s been wearing with love for days onto the cold floor by his feet, silently praying it doesn’t get covered in mud from his cleats. The soft fleece and vibrant team logos woven together with a sense of camaraderie and belonging are replaced with his signature sink or swim, no team in I scowl, the one he picked up by copying his father’s face when he looked at Jay. 

There’s more discoordinant bickering that seems to suck all the goodness out of the room, no matter how remedial it is. Even Fairy Godmother seems tense. Finally, the image of their parents loads more clearly as their end of the video call finishes connecting. 

“Evie, it’s mommy!” Comes the condescending sing-song voice of the Evil Queen. Her under eyes are slightly swollen, Evie notices. She definitely got more back alley botox. And another CC of lip fillers, by the looks of it. She’s going to get a nasty rash from using dirty needles, just like she always does. All in the pursuit of beauty, she would tell Evie while making her daughter cover her itching, inflamed skin with expired psoriasis cream. 

“Oh, look how beautiful,” Evil Queen coos, and Evie plasters on the same smile her mother made her spend two hours a day practicing. “Just like your mother. She gets it all from me.”

Evil Queen turns between the other parents and Fairy Godmother, speaking to no one in particular as she continues.

“You know, they say having a daughter just sucks all the beauty right out of you. I’m sure they do, in most cases,” she says, looking between Maleficent and Fairy Godmother. “But with me, oh, I just sucked all that beauty right back.”

She lets out a stiff laugh, smiling as much as she can with all those frozen, swollen muscles in her face. 

“But, you know what they say, the poison apple doesn’t fall far from the heirloom tree…” 

Evil Queen leans closer, looking in the bottom corner of the screen, clearly looking at herself and paying no mind to anything else. 

The knots in their stomachs get bigger and bigger, harder to sit with as they watch their parents waste away half their sparse video call time jabbing at Fairy Godmother instead of talking to their children. Mal risks a glance at Evie, only seeing the blue hair she’s fussing with as she looks away from the group. Evie didn’t even get a hello. She was just used to prop up a mirror for her mother to obsess over and preen herself in, just like always. 

Fairy Godmother isn’t immune to their nasty ways either, growing increasingly distracted and impatient with their jeers and jabs, totally unaware of the pain on the children's faces behind her. The sky outside dims drastically for a moment as a bank of clouds pass by, blocking out the sun. The world feels dark and cold and small again, suffocating in that moment of chilling darkness. 

“Mal…” 

She tenses at her mother’s saccharine, deceptively sweet sing-song voice. “When can we see you again?” 

Her expression and words are tense, but their true meaning is clear. Have you gotten that damned wand yet? 

“Uh- there’s a coronation in two days,” Mal says in a low voice, trying to sound relaxed, looking at  her mother’s nose instead of trying to look at her eyes. “So probably after that.”

Maleficent hums, but it sounds more like a growl to Mal. 

“Well,” She starts tensely, the disapproval and growing impatience clear, “Let’s see if you can make that sooner.”

Mal flinches at her mother’s tone, looking away from the screen, but Maleficent doesn’t notice. The four parents descend into more arguing, starting to use language that causes Fairy Godmother to shut off the screen abruptly in fear of someone overhearing their profane, cruel words. 

The silence that follows is crushingly heavy, bruising their muscles and straining their spines from the sheer weight of it. 

“...I am so sorry-” 

Fairy Godmother’s words are sincere, which makes them even more difficult to hear. “It’s fine.” Mal says in a quiet voice, not having the energy to be snippy even when cutting her off. “Really.”

“We’re used to it.” Carlos supplies in a hollow voice.

Unable to stand being in this goddamn room any longer, Mal moves to leave. Everyone else quickly follows her, just as desperate to get out, but waiting for her cue. The door slams shut behind them as Mal marches back to their dorms. The air is thick, and their chests feel painfully tight. Invisible hands seem to wrap around their necks, choking them tighter and tighter, pushing harder against their stomachs as more heavy silence envelops them. 

Arriving back in Mal and Evie’s dorm, Evie immediately sits down at her vanity, pulling out her tweezers to obsessively remove facial hair that isn’t there. Carlos curls up on the floor in front of Mal’s bed, and Jay stands in front of the closed door, arms crossed. Mal paces, picking at her chipping polish. Jay’s stomach twists as he builds up the courage to speak. His words are quiet - quiet for him, at least - but they still feel loud. He knows they’d feel loud no matter what.

“So… what’s our next move?”

He feels like he shouldn’t even be asking, but he has to. Someone has to. They all need to know what the fuck they’re supposed to do next. Mal slows her pacing, trembling under the crushing weight of guilt and self blame, the hatred of herself for letting herself start to get comfortable, for even considering leaning into this cushy, sugary, strawberry flavored life. Her shoulders are so tense she almost feels lightheaded. She can feel a headache coming on. 

There’s a fraction of a moment before she answers. She hates this, hates being the one in charge. She hates being the only thing standing between her friends- between Evie and Jay and Carlos, and abject misery. She hates bearing the weight of holding back everything worse they’re trying to avoid. It’s aging her, she thinks. Or it would be if fairies aged like humans. She’s sure she’d have gray hair, aches in her joints, a tremor when she walks. She hates this feeling, and whenever it comes, she knows how Atlas feels, crushing yourself under the weight of the sky to try and stop the people behind you from suffocating faster. 

“We pull our heads out of our asses.” 

She tries to sound sharp, intimidating, but it doesn’t quiet land. She sounds afraid. 

“We wake the hell up, and we do what we fucking came here to do.”

Her words are like the click of prison shackles, tightening on their wrists and ankles as they march toward a seaside cliff of inevitable doom. That’s not the answer that any of them wanted.

It’s later that night, so late that even Carlos has fallen asleep. Mal shakes her head, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. She grabs her spellbook and sneaks down into the kitchens. She digs around a little, finding a bottle of apple juice, and a bottle of blue ischyros-ade. There’s a sponsored photo of Hercules on the front, with some dumb slogan and black and white Greecian designs. She flips through her spellbook, knowing she should be practicing more than she has been, and finds a simple transportation spell. She sets the drinks down, focusing as she tries to cast the spell, tracing her hands around the bottles. 

“Destination, free of fare, move these- uh, bottles, from here to there.”

The tendrils of smoke that had been building dispel, with the fizzling pop of failed magic. She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries again. 

 “Destination, free of fare, move these bottles from here to there.”

It almost works this time, there’s more smoke and a building feeling of anticipation, but it still fizzles out at the last moment. She’s about to give up and just march back up to her dorm herself, but she hesitates. She thinks about Evie, seeing her in her mind’s eye. Her heart aches, crying to reach out and hold her, to comfort her best friend, to kiss her and tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

“...Destination, free of fare, bring these bottles from here to there.” 

The words flow more freely this time, not feeling as forced. There’s a rush of blood to her head, and when she looks back down… they’re gone. She smirks to herself. Of course the one time she nails a spell is because she’s worried about Evie. 

She starts to close her book, but something falls out. 

An index card in her scratchy writing, detailing a… cookie recipe. Oh god, Ben. She totally forgot about him. She’s been so preoccupied with keeping an eye on Jay and Carlos, and worrying about Evie that she… forgot Ben existed, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t have a choice. She’s going to have to enable her mother to bring on a new age of darkness and evil, and… Ben is going to think he’s in love with her the whole time. 

She thinks that if she were able to feel any worse than she did, she would now. But she’s just… maxed out. She doesn’t have any guilt of self hate or fear left for Ben. But she knows that keeping him under her control is… it’s just a step too far. Mal swallows thickly, then grabs a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. There’s a recipe on the back for something called s’mores, and another recipe next to that. Trollhouse mini chocolate chip cupcakes. 

She fumbles around the kitchen, clumsily throwing open cabinets and rifling through them, dropping ingredients halfheartedly onto the stainless steel countertops. Her mind is a blur as she mixes them together. She doesn’t notice that she forgot to add the cinnamon, or that a few bits of eggshell ended up in the lumpy batter. She just can’t bring herself to care. 

Waiting for them to finish baking is the worst part. She shoves everything back in the cupboards even though they’re not in the right place, and she takes a towel and gets it wet, squirting a generous amount of dish soap on it. She wipes down the counter as soap bubbles fill the air, the green viscous liquid dripping off the edge of the counter and splatting on the floor. 

The chemical smell of fake apples and soap fill her senses, and she throws the sudsy towel in a basket for towels that need to be laundered. She takes another towel and wipes off the suds, leaving behind a sticky, chemical residue as she throws that one in the hamper too. She’s startled from her dazed attempt at cleaning to keep her hands and mind busy when the little egg timer buzzes. 

She pulls out the mini muffin tray and sets it on the counter, nearly burning herself in the process. The acrid scent of scorched chemical dish soap wafts up and mixes with the sweet, fudgy smell of the cupcakes. She looks through the tray at the unfrosted, gooey chocolate baked goods before her, and picks one of them up. She dumps the rest in the trash and drops the tray by the sink. 

Stretching up to grab a spoon and can of chocolate frosting, she sees a figure standing there where there hadn’t been just the moment before. She nearly jumps out of her fucking skin, seeing you there looking like you clawed your way out of a grave. 

Your striped tights are snagged and torn, you’re smudged with mud and dirt, there’s a twig or something tangled in your hair. Your makeup is smudged too, making you look… almost frightening. Without hesitation, you step forward as the last parts of the tile floor close themselves up behind you. You’re looking at her with a surprising intensity, eyes locked on her like a predator hunting down its prey. She starts to say something, but you don’t care, wasting no time as you ensure she can’t run out the door past you - not that she would, you don’t think. It’s merely a strategic precaution. 

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your voice is lower than usual, sharper and rougher and serious. You speak quickly and sharply, like your tongue itself is a vorpal blade that you’re all too comfortable wielding. Mal tries to answer, but you cut her off before she can. 

“Because I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so stupidly foolish.” You spit, taking a step forward. 

“I’m sure you’d love to know the outs and ins of what I know, but that is not a pleasure you’ll have the fortune of crossing paths with as of yet.” You say quickly, cutting straight to the point. “If you value the lives and wellbeing of your friends, or more likely, your own self serving preservation, if you don’t crave a miserable lifetime in a dungeon so deep you’ll never hope to see the sun or breath clean air again, if you don’t wish to resign yourself to a life worse than death, worse than even you could imagine…”

You lower your voice further, and when you speak, Mal feels like she’s been stung. 

“You will not breathe a word of what you’ve done. Not to anybody.” 

Mal’s stomach drops. She swallows thickly, trying not to let you see how thrown off by you she is. You haven’t said what you know, which means you probably know nothing. This is just some cheap attempt to shake her down for information because you’re worried about Ben or something. It’s the only thing that makes sense, but it sounds flimsy even to her. 

“Not only is tampering with the free will of others an unforgivable crime,” You continue, even more intense than before. You’re gripping onto your self control with white knuckles, desperately trying not to give into the madness you’re barely restraining. 

A cold sweat breaks out across Mal’s skin. Tampering with free will… you do know. Somehow you know what she did, what she did to Ben. 

“But you’ve chosen for reasons way beyond my understanding or interest to commit the most egregious act of treason I have ever heard tell of.” You say sharply in a low voice, like the information strategically parting from your lips is only and exclusively for you and her. 

“I’m sure you can’t possibly grasp the ramifications of what you’ve done- if you could you would have turned back long before now.” You say, a note of warning in your voice. “But now it is my duty to prevent your infectious actions from metastasizing further than they already have. It breaks my heart that you would damn so many innocent people who have suffered like you have just for-”

A chilling, dry laugh leaves your throat. 

“I don’t know why, really. Nor am I bothered to care. Not when there is this much damage to be controlled.”

You take yet another step closer. Not close enough to touch each other, but uncomfortably so. 

“You are to keep your head down.” You hiss, “You are to cease any and all further attempts to interfere with the crown, or the mess that you’ve created. And above all else, you are to do nothing to raise any suspicion.”

You’re not threatening her, she realizes. You’re warning her. 

“If you intend for even a moment to step a toe out of the parameters which I have given you, I will assure you the consequences will come faster than you could possibly run from them.”

You sound so sure. You’re so quiet and calm, like you’re just… telling her the facts. You’re not trying to scare her with bluster and intimidation tactics - that she could handle. That she’s used to. But this… she’s never seen this from anyone. Realizing how cornered she is, she swallows thickly, looking around and trying to seem nonchalant, desperately looking for any way to deflect your accusations. Your preternaturally in tune perception of the situation. 

“Look, you’re crazy if you-”

“Oh. Of course.”

You cut her off with a raw, honest stare. She sees something deep inside you, an unstable glint you’ve never let this far out. It’s like you’re finally loosening reins on a creature you’ve always had well trained and under your command. 

“Mad as a fucking hatter.” You say in a joltingly light, casual tone. “The best people are.”

Before she can blink, she’s hit with the smell of dirt. The floor below you cracks, crumbling away into nothing. You drop fearlessly down into the dark maw of the earth, keeping your gaze on her the whole time. In the same breath, the floor closes back up without leaving so much as a trace. 

Finally alone again - at least, she thinks so - she grips the counter tightly, hoping the cool metal will soothe her shaking hands. Her heart is pounding, like it’s trying to break out of her chest. Alice is just some person, some random girl who fell down the wrong hole in the ground. You’re her daughter, so you shouldn’t… how the fuck did you do that?! 

There are rumors about Wonderland, of course. Whispers about the depths of madness that hide behind whimsy and eccentricity and nonsense. For the first time, Mal understands what those whispers are really talking about. 

[abyssal-ali]

Project #68 [Operation Concupiscence] - 1

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Raven Roth

Rating: M (Chapters 1-3 are merely suggestive but overall this is a smutty story;) ) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ao3 Masterlist | Day 1: Vampire

WC: 3.5k

TW: Demon AU

A/N: For the 2023 @damirae-sauce-week. This is a Demon AU x Hogwarts AU. Moone's Institute of Magic and Mythos has three Covens (aka Houses): Demon Coven, Mage Coven, & Witch Coven. There are several subspecies of demon; for example, Damian is half Samaeline (wrath/judgement demon aka Bruce) and half Azraeline (incubi/lust demon aka Talia). I mixed canon and my worldbuilding quite thoroughly, so please don't expect much canon adherence ;) In this AU, Damian was raised with the al Ghuls before he began attending MIMM; family dynamics are not a part of this AU.

Concupiscence: definition: noun. 1. sexual desire; lust 2. ardent, usually sensuous, longing

“Now, as you Year Eights hopefully already know, the basis of any type of magic is a give-and-take system, whether it’s demonic, arcane, or natural. Today, you will be choosing one specific subsection of magic to study with your partner and will record your findings on how the give-and-take affects your experiments. No, it does not matter which Coven you are from and which substudy you choose. Your partners and substudies will be chosen at random. Half of you will be called to pick a name from this cauldron; the other half of you will choose the substudy from that cauldron. Everyone understand the objective?” 

“Yes, Professor Zatara,” chorused the roomful of students.

The professor read off a list of names from a scroll, dividing the room into two. “Okay, students in line A, please select your partner. Line B, please choose your subject. I’ll call each pair up and we can discuss the specifics of your assignment once everything is settled.”

Raven shuffled along Line B, her gaze flicking over to Line A. More specifically, a classmate in Line A, with spiky black hair, deep green eyes, an insufferable smirk, and an unquenchable need to one-up others. 

“Raven!” the person behind her hissed, jolting her out of her thoughts. “It’s your turn.”

Ignoring the person stepping up to Cauldron A beside her, who was smirking at her being caught daydreaming, she stepped forward, reaching into the depths of Cauldron B.

She moved back to her seat, uncurling the strip of parchment. Lust magic .

Scoffing inwardly, she yanked the hood of her cape over her head, only her glowing purple eyes showing from its shrouded depths. Freaking lust magic. Of course it was the one subsection of magic she had completely ignored in her studies and knew the least about.

The heavy weight of a stare that could only belong to one person settled on the back of her cape. Whirling, she glared at the boy sitting at the table behind her. “What do you want?” she growled, letting a little of her demon rasp leak through her tone.

The annoyance smirked, green eyes piercing through the shadows she had wrapped around her. “Guess who was lucky enough to choose the school’s ice princess as their partner?”

~~~

The glowing violet slits that were Raven’s eyes blinked out as she closed her eyes in frustration, causing his smirk to widen.

The violet appeared again, along with the flash of a white fang or two. “I could only be so fortunate that it was the school’s ice prince?” Her tone was heavy with sarcasm.

“Got it in one! I do hope that brilliant mind of yours will survive throughout our partnership.” 

“Oh, shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, al Ghul,” she grumbled, turning away.

“So, your cape, then? Don’t mind if I do,” he returned snarkily, knowing he’d won that round.

She growled again.

“What are we studying, partner?” he leaned over her shoulder, attempting to peer at the parchment that she slapped her hand over.

He chuckled. “Oh ho, what a visceral reaction. How intriguing…why would you attempt to cover our assignment from your partner?” He tapped his chin, imitating thinking hard. “I’m sure you wouldn’t hide it to be petty, because your grades would go down and that would be unacceptable. Could it be…!” He gasped, eyes widened dramatically. “Is it perhaps love magic, and you don’t want to admit you’re in love with me?”

The violet of her eyes gained a distinctly red hue, signalling her irritation. 

Damian smirked and dropped the subject. 

“It’s lust magic, you dolt.”

“Ah, often closely used with love magic. I can see why you hid it now…it’s even more embarrassing to admit that you’re attracted to me.”

Raven raised her arm, a rolled-up scroll of parchment in hand, prepared to thwack him.

“Raven and Damian!” called Professor Zatara.

The classroom erupted into whispers as they walked up to Professor Zatara’s desk. The Head Boy and Head Girl, bitter rivals since they had joined Moone’s Institute of Magic and Mythos eight years ago, were partnered together for this project. 

“Your subject for this project?” Zachary Zatara raised his eyebrow at the two of them.

“Lust magic.”

“Good thing you two don’t get along, so I don’t have to worry about you testing this on yourselves, huh?” Professor Zatara leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Damian could sense Raven’s irritation through her stiffness. 

“You can choose how you’ll present your findings; the due date is in four weeks. Potions, charms, curses, anything is on board. You’ll be studying the levels of give-and-take, such as seeing if there’s an exponential increase of take from what’s given. Capisce?”

Damian and Raven nodded.

“Good luck with your studies. Garfield and Jaime!” Professor Zatara dismissed them, calling the next pair up.

“We can discuss the project while we do our rounds this evening?” suggested Raven as they walked back to their tables.

“Sounds fine, Roth.”

~~~

Damian turned the corner of the Witches’ Coven and stopped short, avoiding Raven with a move that had no right to be as graceful as it did.

Stupid Azraelines and their stupid sensual grace. 

“Ready to tackle the project?” He greeted her with a cordial nod.

She turned to walk with him, nodding in agreement. “How do you want to divide the work?”

“We can both do the research since that will likely require the most time and energy. It would be best to wait until we have a better idea of what this project will entail before we divide the work between ourselves. Does that work for you, Princess?”

“Sounds fine. I just turned in two reports, so I should be free to get a head start on the research while you practice your swordsmanship.” A brilliant solution, in her mind, to her little problem. She could gain at least a rudimentary understanding of the magic before they had to knowledgeably discuss it together. 

Damian nudged a stack of books in the Witches’ Common Room into order, rescuing them from falling at the slightest breeze. “You suggested it, so don’t say I didn’t do my share of the research if you have a problem with me later.” Speaking to the air, he activated his Coven magic. “Raven Roth is voluntarily beginning the research phase of Project #68, also titled Operation Concupiscence.”

She scoffed, brushing her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. “I’m not such a tyrant that I’d keep track of the seconds we each spend on this. Also, concupiscence? Really?”

Damian mumbled something likely uncomplimentary under his breath, holding open the door to the hallway leading to the Mages’ Coven.

Deciding to ignore the insult and take the olive branch (see, she could be gracious), she strode towards the doorway. At the last second, he let it slide shut in her face.

Nevermind. She was going to end him once this project was over.

~~~

Raven sat in the library’s restricted section, thankful for the perks afforded by the Head Girl and one of the students fluctuating between first and second-ranked academically throughout the whole school.

Only a handful of students were allowed in the restricted section, and her nemesis was currently occupied with the duelling club, which he headed.

Satisfied with her privacy, she began collecting the tomes she’d mentally taken note of during earlier strolls through the stacks and carried the armful to the table in the middle of the area.

Pulling out her scroll of notes for this project, she weighted the edges down with the covers of the open books, stopping the curl of the paper that made it difficult to completely fill the parchment with notes.

Dipping her quill in the ink, she began.

Project #68

Due Date: Imbolc Eve

Partner: Damian al Ghul (Demon)

Thesis: Interchange in Lust magic.

References:  

Raven flipped to the title page of the first book, making sure she didn’t accidentally knock over her ink bottle.

Drat, she’d grabbed For the Love of Lust I, not For the Love of Lust II.

She took the book back to its shelf and retrieved the sequel, checking its title page while she was there to ensure no mix-ups occurred a second time. She had a limited period of uninterrupted time here, after all.

Returning to her desk, she picked up her quill and began marking her reference books.

Her hand paused over the final title.

Project #68 (Operation Concupiscence)

Due Date: Imbolc Eve

Partner: Damian al Ghul (Demon)

Thesis: Interchange in Lust magic.

References: For the Love of Lust II, The History of Love Deals and How to Avoid Scams, Nymphomagick: A Volume, How to Fulfill Sexual Summonings, So You Think You’ve Been Put Under a Love Spell, Sensual Creatures and Their Abilities + Uses

“Al Ghul!” she growled, spotting the addition.

How he had found the time to tamper with her scroll, she wasn’t sure, but she was going to give him heaven when she found out. That blessed sneak!

~~~

Damian sneezed violently, his instinctual defensive parry blocking his opponent’s blade as his eyes automatically closed.

Recovering, he disarmed his opponent with a flourish, a smirk taking over the usual no-nonsense set of his jaw. Roth must have found his addition. When he had declared the name of their project earlier, his Coven magic automatically completed it if some were left out. She’d never been able to harness the Coven magic and understand it like him, which was a shame, considering her heritage and raw potential. It made certain things so much easier to keep track of.

~~~

Raven angrily flipped through Sensual Creatures and Their Abilities + Uses, the final book in her pile and so far the least helpful. She could think of a handful of beings known for their sexual appeal and not one appeared between the pages of this out-of-date volume!

An illustration caught her eye and she turned back three pages to see a strange slew of lines, faded red colouring, and lots of sharp-looking marks that she guessed were fangs, or maybe stakes?

‘Vampyre, 1214, illustration by an eyewitness recollectione’, was its title.

The vampyre, or, as some call it, the vampire, is a creature of the night that subsists almost entirely on blood.  

Skipping the paragraphs about the beings, she scanned the page for anything that would further her digging.

Some suggest that there exists a select group of these creatures which have managed to survive by feeding on others’ sexual energies, instead of consuming their blood. This maye be a confusion between vampyres and liderc, or perhaps incubi, or perhaps vampyres have truely changed enough that blood no longer sustains them. Feeding off of sexual energies could stop the rashes of vampyres and their bloodbathes that have steadily grown more common this past sixteenth century.

Finally, something useful! Mentally giving a cheer, Raven pulled the book closer and began studying.

~~~

Damian paused at the sight of Raven, fast asleep in the restricted section. Her head was on her arms, the hood of her cloak pushed back, and she looked soft in the warm glow of the library light.

Raven always kept a neutral expression, but until he saw her relaxed like this, he had assumed it was her default face setting. Now he saw why; she was far too delicate when she relaxed, and to a rule-stickler, top student, and Head Girl like herself, she couldn’t afford to show any softness.

He didn’t know all the details about her backstory, but he knew enough that he understood why she pushed herself so hard and strove to be the best at everything. They were similar in that aspect–in fact, the more he pondered it, the more similarities he found between them.

Shivering at the uncomfortable realization, Damian turned to leave.

At the exit of the restricted section, he paused and turned again.

~~~

Licking her lips, Raven ran her fingers through her hair and sat up, momentarily confused at her surroundings until she remembered how tired she’d been after she finished the day’s research.

She hooked her hands over her shoulders, grabbing for her hood, but pulled something else up instead.

Raven stared at the dark green, almost black, cloak, one hand absently stroking the soft material. She immediately missed the warmth from her back.

~~~

“What’s Roth doing?” Dane, a Year Six student from the Demon Coven, leaned forward to see past Damian at the breakfast table.

Damian turned his head, watching as Raven stalked silently up and down the aisles of tables, something in her hand that she periodically shook her head at.

She turned and started down the next row of tables, and Damian saw his cloak in her hand.

Half-stifling a smirk, he turned back to his breakfast.

“Something funny, al Ghul?”

He glanced up at Raven’s raised brow.

“Nothing more than the usual; your face,” the taunt slipped out, a habit from years of bantering.

Her lips pursed, a minuscule amount that likely no one but he would notice, but she gave no other reaction. Usually, they didn’t attack each other’s features, but he was still a little unsettled that he’d willingly given her his cloak (and now she was making something out of it), so he didn’t apologize and instead squished the tiny shred of guilt.

“What’s the matter? You look a little peaked today…could it be? Has the stick up you-”

“Al Ghul,” her withering tone and pointed look at the younger students, who were all thoroughly invested in their drama, reminded him where he was. “I simply found this cloak and was attempting to return it to its owner.”

“Ms Moone has a lost and found box, you know,” he drawled, raising his eyebrow as he stood, collecting his dishes. 

A faint colour covered her chest, spreading around the edges of her leotard, and his thoughts immediately wandered to curiously wondering how far it spread, if it could get any darker and just how he’d accomplish tha-

“It’s cold out,” Raven interrupted the salacious turn his mind had wandered to. “I didn’t want a student to freeze. I’ll unfortunately see you in Advanced Runes.” With a swish of her cloak, she stalked out of the room, the picture of regal grace.

~~~

As Year Eight students, Damian and Raven were among the oldest students attending Moone’s Institute of Magic and Mythos. Most students graduated once they completed Year Seven, but particularly studious or talented students sometimes stayed another year or two, taking the equivalent of university prep and university courses, appreciating the safety the school afforded them.

Moone’s Institute of Magic and Mythos was a neutral ground for any and all magical creatures and wielders and had a strict no-discrimination policy. Even the students’ parents, guardians, or mentors were not allowed to interfere in anything relating to the school or its students while they were on its grounds, no matter how powerful, influential, or connected they were.

For that reason, some of the students who didn’t have the most stable backgrounds were eager to jump at the chance to further their studies and linger in the relative safety of the Institute before they joined the harsher worlds out there. 

It was practically announcing that something was wrong if you took a Year Eight, but most students preferred to keep their cards close to their chest about the specifics of why they were staying since information was power, and once they graduated Year Eight, any information gained about them from their Institute years was fair game to everyone else.

Raven knew why she was taking a Year Eight, but she didn’t understand why Damian had. Even though his family was the most powerful Azraeline clan, they were what some, including her so-called family, might call decent.

She’d never interacted much with his family, though, as students did not typically receive visitors throughout the school year, and also, why would he want to introduce her to his family. Who knows, maybe the al Ghuls were just as bad as the Trigons. It wasn’t like she particularly cared about him, anyway. Shaking her head, Raven discarded her rambling thoughts about her partner and opened another volume that she hoped would provide her with more information on lust magic.

“Hard at work already, Roth?” the unpleasantly smooth voice of Damian al Ghul sounded behind her.

She glared at him as he slid into the seat perpendicular to her, setting out his books and note scrolls neatly. 

“I was trying to before you interrupted me.” The restrictions on the restricted section of the library needed to be tightened, she decided.

He ignored her pointed jab and unscrewed the lid of his ink jar.

“Sounds like you might need to try some of these potions I’ve come across in my research. Maybe if you got laid, you’d be more pleasant to be around…oh, I see, it’s a catch-22; your unpleasant demeanour drives off anyone who would help you with that problem you have. My apologies, Roth,” he muttered faux-sympathetically.

“I see my ‘unpleasant demeanour’ still hasn’t driven you off,” she retorted. “Seems like you’re my last resort.”

Shifting in her seat, she leaned closer, letting her cape drop as her hand rested on his knee.

Damian’s widened green eyes dropped to take in her long legs and his mouth parted slightly, tempting Raven, but she restrained herself just before her nose brushed his. “If you still stick around after I’ve been so unpleasant, either something is wrong with you, or you’re more attached to me than I thought,” she whispered, her breath skimming his cheek. 

This close, she could hear the rapid thump of Damian’s heartbeat and smell the saffron and rose water that she’d only ever gotten a hint of before. The delicate strength of the aroma was not one she’d have thought Damian would wear, but the strange pairing worked for him.

Sitting back abruptly, she returned to her studying, but she noticed with a pleased twist of her lips that Damian sat unmoving for several minutes before he recovered himself.

Maybe he had a point…

~~~

Year Five

Raven’s cape snagged, pulling her into a dark alcove in the Institute’s halls in the Demon Coven.

“Sh!” The whisper behind her and the hand covering her mouth could only belong to one person.

Damian wrenched his hand away from her with a silent yelp that she could feel him let out as she bit down hard on his flesh.

“What do you want, al Ghul?” Taking a step back, she let the cool stone of the wall she leaned against calm her sudden spike in heart rate.

“You know I’m not trying to insult you, right?” he muttered, shaking his hand in the air as if the breeze would heal his pain.

“It seems kind of hard to interpret the sneers and jibes as anything other than insults,” Raven answered dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Damian tutted, leaning back against the wall opposite her. “I mean, I don’t actually mean what I’m saying. I simply appreciate the mental stimulation of a good verbal spar. It’s come to my attention that I perhaps am making you feel bad, which is not my intention.”

Pursing her lips in slight surprise at Damian’s words, Raven let him stew for a few moments.

“No, I’ve never particularly felt personally insulted by your words. I prefer to pay as little attention as possible to things beneath me.”

Damian huffed and she smirked.

Taking pity on him, she straightened. “No, I don’t mind. I also enjoy our little altercations. I appreciate your attempt to clear this up. See you around, al Ghul.”

“Wait!” Damian’s fingers gently closed around her wrist. 

She looked down at their joined hands, then back to Damian. The moonlight sneaking through the slits in the walls revealed a slightly flustered look on his face, though his tone also gave his discomfort away.

“Sorry, it’s just- the other students have some bets on our…interactions. Neither of us particularly wants their attention, and if we were suddenly-”

“Relax, al Ghul.” She peeled his fingers away from her wrist with her free hand. “Just because we’ve now acknowledged that we don’t take each other’s words to heart doesn’t mean we need to act all friendly. Keep up what we’ve been doing and everything will be fine.”

With a swish of her cape, she resumed her stroll, a grin playing on her lips as she recalled Damian’s unusual flusteredness. It was kind of cute.

[gothicknightz]

bloodline pt. 2 | ethan landry

notes: PART TWO TO BLOODLINES, A FAMILY LINES PREQUAL. PART ONE OF THE BLOODLINES HERE, AND FAMILY LINES PART TWO AND ONE HERE. SCREAM 6 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT.

A beer was in (y/n)’s hands as she danced with Chad in the middle of the frat party, with the latter being dressed up as a cowboy and an angel, the two syncing to the beat of the music that was blaring in a section of the house.

As Tara arrived, a small smile formed on (y/n)’s lips as he watched Chad’s eyes follow her, unable to remove them, as they were stuck like glue.

“You should go get ‘em, partner.” She joked as Chad rolled his eyes and smiled.

“What? I’m serious! You two have been making eyes at each other all semester. When are you finally gonna make a move?”

“I should say the same for you and Ethan,” He retorted, as (y/n) choked on her beer, “He’s been eyeing you up like a whole snack. Should get him out of that shell.”

She gave Chad the finger as she glanced at Ethan, who gave her a small wave, “I’ll go talk to Ethan when you finally work up the courage to talk to little miss independent over there.”

“Fuck you.”

“You are welcome.” She laughed, before slapping her hand on his back, “I’m gonna get more beer. Be right back.”

Anika and Mindy were relaxing on a couch, beers in both hands, with Anika asking how it doesn’t bother Mindy that people dress up as Ghostface, who had attacked her and her friends a year prior.

“Being at a house party, after you and your friends almost got brutally murdered at a house party?”

“No,” Mindy readjusted herself in the couch seat, “I see it as being struck by lightning; the odds of it happening twice to the same person are extremely low.”

“Hm,” Anika hummed, “Guess I should stay close to you, then.” She said while putting her legs over Mindy’s.

On the other side, Tara stumbled over herself as she made her way to the keg, looking for more to drink she ran into Frankie, to who she introduced herself.

Frankie mentioned how there might be more beers in the kitchen, as the two went there together, to also find out that there was also no beer in the fridge, so, in the end, Frankie mentioned that there was a bottle of Fireball up in his room, and the two made their way together.

Anika saw the pair and didn’t like this idea, Tara reassured her she was fine and continued on her way before Frankie had the smart idea to drag Tara up the stairs, which didn’t sit well with Anika and Mindy, who decided to call her brother over.

Chad was over on the other side, with Ethan, attempting to hype him up as he was dressed in a handmade ‘knight in shining armor’ costume.

“Alright, alright, alright.” Chad paused, as he raised a shot glass, “Cheers to the dynamic duo; four-tenths tower, third floor, room three-one-five!” He exclaimed, before clinking his plastic shot glass with Ethan’s, who ended up spitting out his shot back into the cup.

“You gotta start making moves, man,” Chad said as he saw (y/n) beaming a big smile at the stranger she was partying with before glancing at the duo and giving a thumbs up.

“I’ve seen that look you give (y/n), Landry.” He chuckled, as his roommate seemed a bit flustered at the mention of her, “You’re not fooling anyone.”

A big smile was on Ethan’s face as he rolled his eyes, “What if she doesn’t like me back?”

“Dude.” Chad placed an arm on his friend’s shoulder, “Who wouldn’t like you, man?” He said, adjusting his costume, “You are a snack; practically an entire meal on your own!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! You’re Ethan Landry!”

A big grin was on Chad’s face as he called (y/n) over, “Hey, (y/n)!” Who turned around to look at the duo, for Chad to make a ‘come here’ motion as she smiled and rolled her eyes.

“What’s up, Meeks?”

Chad cleared his throat before placing an arm on Ethan’s shoulder, “I need you to vouch for my man Ethan here. This gentleman of a guy couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night, and I would love to know your opinion of him.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes and smiled, “You really like playing matchmaker tonight, Chad.” She paused, picking up a nearby beer and taking a swig out of it, “He’s cute.” She sent a smile at Ethan before placing a hand on Chad’s shoulder, whispering an ‘I hate you’ to him before walking off.

“See?”

It was only a matter of seconds before Chad was called by his sister, and the rest of the events of the night unfolded, with Sam making an unwanted appearance by Tara, and the group leaving the party subsequently afterward.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

(y/n) sat beside Tara on the couch as they and the rest of the gang were gathered around the television, watching the nightly news reporting on the identities of the two bodies found at a nearby apartment.

The bodies were identified as Jason Carvey and Greg Bruckner, who were two Blackmore students, with Jason being in a class with Tara, which the original Woodsboro survivors classified as technically hitting close to home.

As the sisters argued, Sam’s phone started ringing, to which everyone stopped what they were doing, and stared at the phone in anxious silence.

“Why did everyone just freak out when the phone rang?” Ethan had asked, unaware of the Carpenter and Meeks-Martin siblings’ past.

“You gotta keep up, man,” Anika noted before Quinn handed her phone over to Sam, saying that her dad wanted to talk to her; her I.D. was found at the scene of the crime, which meant she had to visit the Detective at the station.

As Sam made her way to the station, Tara followed her sister out of the apartment complex, which Sam was against. Tara proved a strong argument against her sister’s statement, so they continued to the station together.

As the sisters were walking to the station, they had gotten a call from Ghostface, who mentioned that they were going to pay for what they had done, and to watch their backs, in which Tara was subsequently attacked from behind by the masked killer himself.

The two were able to get away, but not without Ghostface following them into a bodega, where he attacked two guys in line, and shot the bodega owner with his own shotgun. 

Meanwhile, the sisters were crawling on their hands and knees on the far end of the bodega by the freezers, trying not to make a sound, and when they did, Sam had pushed a shelf over, knocking Ghostface down, abling the sisters to make a run for it as the cops showed up.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The following day, Mindy had gathered the gang, including Sam, to the courtyard of Blackmore, as she laid down and aired out the suspect list, going on about rules and regulations, as well as sequels and requels.

“Okay, nerds!” She clapped to get their attention, “As terrifying as this is, I’m glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time.”

“The way I see it is that someone is out there to make a sequel, to the requel.”

Anika was confused, as she asked, “What’s a requel?”

“Anika,” Mindy paused, “You’re beautiful sweetie; let’s hold all questions until the end.”

Sam noted that Stab one took place in Woodsboro and that Stab two took place in college, to which Tara added that someone is trying to copy the movies. 

“That is a possibility; heroes now in college, check, suspicious new characters to round out the suspect list,” Mindy said as she pointed to Ethan, “And or body count,” As she nodded to Anika. 

Mindy goes on about how the group is not just in a sequel, but rather a franchise, and that there are certain rules to a franchise. 

She notes that the budgets and everything are bigger, and everything expected from the last film will not be reused in this current ‘requel’ and that no one is safe, which meant that even main and legacy characters could and would be killed off.

Ethan then questions everything; even the main characters, if he was part of the main friend group, and if he was going to die a virgin.

Mindy notes how that was a weird overshare, and continues to her suspect list.

“Ethan; the shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky.”

Ethan asks why he’s on the suspect list, about whether or not it was based randomly because he was Chad’s roommate, to which Mindy rebuttals that the roommate lottery can be juked. 

“Quinn; the slutty roommate,” She pauses, to give a chef’s kiss, “A horror movie classic.”

“Sex positive. But, thank you?”

She asks Quinn how she got to be Tara and Sam’s roommate, to which she responded about an anonymous ad, which Mindy stopped her as she implicated herself enough. 

“Now, to my dear roommate, (y/n). You have been as clean as a germophobe, but there’s no human without flaws. What are your intentions for this friend group and Blackmore in general?”

(y/n) leaned back in her seat on the bench, and shrugged, “We’re both movie buffs, Mindy. I enrolled in Blackmore after hearing about their film programs, and they roomed me with you because we have similar majors. The rest was on you.”

“A solid truth, but I guess we’ll find out in act three, huh?”

“Guess we will.”

Mindy finally turned to Anika, in which she mentioned the most major rules in a horror franchise; never trust the love interest.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

(y/n) was on her way to Tara and Sam’s shared apartment, leaving her dorm hall as Mindy was already over with the Carpenter sisters. 

She was on the top floor, and when it got to the floor below, Ethan walked into the elevator, to which (y/n) played it off for the cameras with a confused smile and arched brow.

“What are you doing here, Landry?”

As soon as the door closed, Ethan instantly pushed (y/n) up against the elevator wall and kissed her passionately, to which she pushed him away subsequently after.

“Ethan,” She whispered as she scolded him, “What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get caught?”

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do that.” He admitted, getting close to her again, “Six months.” He mumbled, “Six months I’ve waited to do anything to you. Six months of staring at you from afar, having Chad beg me to make a move. Six months of playing it off seeing you with other guys.”

Ethan attempted to run a hand through his hair, with his fingers getting stuck in his own curls, “Fuck,” He muttered, “I can’t even see you in that pretty ring I got you.”

“Don’t worry.” She gave him a quick kiss before retreating to the other side of the elevator.

“It should be over soon.”

[geminigirl0298]

Leather-Bound (Part 1)

Relationship: Dom!Loki xSub!Reader

Summary: The Prince of Lies catches you touching yourself on his bed and decides to punish you.

A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Reblogs are appreciated <3 Just ask to be tagged for part 2 and 3.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, 18+, Minors DNI!, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, pussy slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, degradation, name calling, restraints, consensual sex, pain kink, vaginal sex, dom/sub dynamics, fluff.

Masterlist

PART 1

The younger prince was not like other men. It was one of the first things you noticed about him, in addition to his tendency towards cleanliness. Being a maid, the latter was of particular interest to you, and you were glad to find that Prince Loki made your job all the more easier. He did not track in mud with his boots or leave his clothes strewn about the room, nor did he leave books improperly stacked or stain his clothes with ink. The prince was impeccable, immaculate… and very easy on the eyes to boot.

It was no surprise that you harboured a crush on him. The dark hair and height alone were enough to make anyone swoon, but add in that intelligent wit, sly smile and a pair of eyes so green you felt like they hypnotized you and it was safe to say you found the prince irresistible. His handsome face was often the focal point of your wet dreams, sultry voice and slim fingers riling you up into a frenzy. You could not count the number of times you had woken from a dream with a throbbing core and stained bedsheets, just at the edge but unable to tip over.

You supposed that was why you had done it.

Prince Loki was out with his friends today—Lady Sif and the Warriors Three—to celebrate a recent victory of Thor’s. He would be gone most of the night if not the entire week, and you were alone in his chambers. Most of the work had been done. The books were re-shelved, towels fluffed and folded and the light layer of dust on his desk was gone. All that was left was to tidy up his bed.

You loved Prince Loki’s bed, with its green sheets and gold trimmings. The silk was of a higher count than your finest dress, pillows thick and soft and you knew the comfort it would provide was heavenly. As you leaned over the giant-sized bed to grab his pillow, you caught a whiff of his scent. Spice, it smelled like—with a touch of something citrusy and a slight hint of sweets. You brought the pillow to your face and took a deep breath. Yes. Definitely sweets.

The pillow smelled so much like the prince that you were loathe to give it up. You stood there for quite some time, inhaling his scent like it was a drug. Every sniff made your head spin, the scent going straight to your core. You were throbbing with need after a few minutes of this and you knew you should leave. The respectful thing to do would be to finish making his bed and relieve yourself in the privacy of your own chambers. But you were not one to do the right thing. You always thought it was why the prince had chosen you. Unlike the others, you never seemed to mind his mischievousness, finding it funny rather than annoying. You would always laugh at his jokes or snide comments—and the prince took notice of this.

You cast a glance at his door. It was closed, as you had left it when you came in not an hour ago. The sounds of merriment from the dining room could not be heard so far into the palace. You knew the prince was there, telling stories in that grand way of his, probably with a lover or two hanging off his arm. Prince Loki had no shortage of lovers. Everyone wanted a bite of him, and if history was to repeat itself, he would be spending the night in the bed of whoever caught his eye that night.

That was what made up your mind for you. You placed the pillow back on his bed, climbing in after it. A groan left your lips as your body sank into the plush goose feather mattress. It was a far cry from your sponge mattress, and you wondered why the royal family members would ever leave their rooms with a bed like this. The support was astounding, covers warm, and when you flipped onto your back you felt your body sink deeper into the confines.

“Oh Norns.” It was like he was lying right next to you. His scent clung to the pillows, the sheets, his mattress, and all you could smell was him. The citrus made your mouth water, spices heated your cheeks and the sweetness made your tongue dart out to wet your lips. You were soaked now. The fabric of your underwear stuck to the apex of your thighs and you could feel your skirts growing damp.

You spread your legs on the prince’s bed, reaching two hands down to bunch your skirts up around your waist. Your panties were soaked through with slick so you lifted your hips and pulled them off. The exposed air hit your cunt immediately, stealing a moan from your lips. Slowly, with experienced hands, you reached down between your legs and slid a finger through your folds.

A gasp left your lips when your finger brushed your clit, prompting you to slap a hand over your mouth. The pants of pleasure produced by the caresses on your clit were stifled into your palm. It would be just your luck if a guard were to pass by and hear you. Oh, Valhalla, no! You would be whipped for this—possibly lose your job too—and you would never live down the humiliation.

“My, my. What have we here?”

Your eyes flew open. Prince Loki was standing before you in his evening wear, sans golden horns. There was a red leather-bound book in his right hand embossed with a gold title you could not make out. His other hand was folded behind his back, and those green eyes you loved so much were trained on the hand between your legs.

“M-my prince.”

A mischievous smile turned up his lips at your obvious discomfort. “Yes?”

“I-I…”. What were you to say? The dark prince, a member of the royal family, had caught you playing with yourself in the middle of his bed. Maids had been fired for less, killed for less, yet here you were with your life still intact. Through the fear gripping your soul and the palpitations of your heart, you found the good sense to snap your legs shut.

“Did I tell you to cover yourself?”

Your eyes flitted up to the prince. “What?”

“Did I,” he repeated, with notably less patience than before, “tell you to cover yourself?” You remained silent. “I’m asking you a question, pet.”

“N-no,” you stuttered out, a little taken aback by the nickname.

“Open them,” he commanded. “Show me that wet little cunt you were so desperate to touch.” Your legs parted, knees touching opposite sides of his bed. Loki’s eyes glanced at your dripping folds with a hunger. He motioned with two fingers, causing the chair from behind his desk to slide over to him. It touched the back of his knees and he glided effortlessly into the plush seat, propping his chin on his hand as he quirked a brow at you. “Well, go on then.”

Your face screwed up in confusion. The brain the Norns had blessed you with was one you were always proud of. You were quite intelligent for your age and status, and not once had the house of learned knowledge failed you. Now, with the prince leering at your most private place, you felt that brain turn to mush. An almost lobotomized sound left your mouth. “Uhh…”

“Touch yourself,” Loki clarified. Your cheeks heated. “Oh? Are you shy now? You weren’t a second ago.”

That’s because I didn’t know you would be back.

“What’s that?” Loki asked. He leaned towards your open legs. “I didn’t hear you.” Your heart squeezed in your chest. Had you… had you said that out loud? “Pet, I am waiting for an answer. You’re uncharacteristically slow tonight.”

“I said I didn’t know you would be back.” The jab he threw upset you enough to answer without stuttering, but the dark brow he lifted made your confidence dissipate soon enough.

“And you think that makes it okay?” he questioned. “You think it’s okay to lie on a prince’s bed and stick your filthy fingers in your slutty cunt because you did not think I’d be back?” You hoped he didn’t see how your wetness trickled out at his words, or how you had to bite your lip to hold back a moan. “Maybe a maid’s work was not your calling. Perhaps I should send you off to a whorehouse instead.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. You could not tell if the prince was being serious or not, but you could not afford the benefit of the doubt. Being a maid to a member of the royal family was a coveted position that paid extremely well. Though your family had their own ways to get by, none compared to your salary. The loss of such income and the shame you would face were your mishap to get out would be too much to bear.

“Please, my prince,” you whispered. “Please don’t send me to a whorehouse. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Loki gave you a wicked smile. He vanished in a flash of green, appearing again right in front of you. His knee bent to support his weight on the bed, jamming against your heated pussy in the process. Both his hands caged you in on either side.

“I quite like it when you beg.” His nose dipped to skim the side of your face. “Do it again.”

“Please,” you whimpered out. A tear trickled down your cheek. “Please, I’m so sorry.” The prince’s pink tongue darted out to lick the salty tear off your skin. A shiver went down your spine—out of fear or lust, you could not say.

“I love seeing you like this,” he admitted. “So needy and desperate. I rather think you like being treated like this. Look how your cunt soaks my trousers.” He applied more pressure with his knee, eliciting a moan from you as your clit was pressed down. “Such a little slut. Touching yourself on your prince’s bed. Were you thinking of me? Tell me, pet.”

“Y-yes,” you admitted, breathing shallow from the way his knee was rocking against your clit. “Yes, I was thinking of you. I always think of you.”

“Harlot,” he snickered. Cool fingers descended on your thigh, providing an erotic contrast with the heat from your core. They trailed up your flesh until they reached your folds. “You’re dripping like a whore.” Loki brought his fingers up to his nose for a sniff. “You smell like one too.” Without even speaking, he held out his fingers to you. You cleaned them off with your tongue obediently.

“Fuck,” the prince whispered. “You’re such a good girl.” He leaned back on his knees and watched you, bringing his fingers to your clit for the first time that night. Your head fell back against his pillows when he rubbed the first circle. The next two had you biting your lip, three more and you were squirming beneath him on the bed.

“M-my prince,” you mumbled. “Please.” The excitement and tension of the night was getting to you. Touching yourself, being caught and now having the prince’s hands on you in ways you had only dreamed of made your head spin. You would not last much longer now. “Please,” you said again. “I—I’m so close.”

A sharp slap to your cunt had your body jerking off the bed. Your eyes flew open in shock. “What was—Ah!” Another slap to your nether regions. You looked at the smirking prince above you.

“Did you think you were going to get to cum so easily?” His fingers rubbed your stinging clit with fervor. “No.” He punctuated the word with a slap that had your hands flying to stop him. “Uh uh.” Black silk ties slithered out from under the bed. They encircled your wrists and pulled your hands above your head, effectively restraining your hands against the bedhead. Your eyes widened in uncertainty.

“My prince—”

“Hush.” His thumb stroked your folds with a gentleness he had not exhibited the entire night. “I am going to punish you for your indiscretion. Now be a good girl and take what your prince gives you.”

He smacked you again, and again, and each time you let out a loud gasp. Every blow to your heated flesh felt like a strike of lightning in the most delicious way possible. Your hands fisted, wrists tugging on the restraints as Loki reigned slap after slap. You were not sure when, but the strikes of pain melted into something much more exhilarating. Soon, the slaps felt like caresses, and instead of shying away you lifted your hips to meet the blows. Your core tightened to an almost impossible degree.

“I think you’re enjoying this, pet,” you heard him say. “You grow wetter with each strike. Seems I have a little pain slut on my hands.”

There it was: your worst fear come to life. Someone had noticed your penchant for pain. It was not something you broadcasted by a long shot. You were sure that if your little kink got out you would be painted as a sexual deviant and shunned for life, because what kind of person preferred a side of pain with their pleasure? You did. You loved the sting left behind by the prince’s blows, the bite of his palm against your softest flesh. It twisted your insides in a revolving circle until finally, the top stopped, and you felt your end leave you in a long stream of cum.

“Oye!” The prince cried out, and you peered at him through blurry eyes. His face was contorted in shock, dripping with the juices that had just left your still throbbing pussy. Horror washed over you when you realized that you had just squirted all over your prince’s face.

“Loki!” His title was forgotten in your frantic state. “I’m so sorry! That’s never happened before!”

Loki wiped his face with one elegant hand. He stared down at you with an expression you could not quite read. “You are a whore.” His hands reached for your waist, flipping your over and onto your knees. The restraints on your wrists pulled your upper body down so your ass was up in the air while the rest of your weight was on your forearms.

“What kind of a slut cums from having their cunt spanked?” Loki wanted to know. You pitched forward when his fingers shoved inside of your core. “Stay still, pet.” The admonishment was followed by a slap on your ass. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you knew he felt it. “Look at you. Getting off from what was supposed to be a punishment before you could pleasure your prince. Such a selfish little harlot, aren’t you?”

His fingers left you. You turned your head around in search of him only for his hand to grip your hair and turn your gaze back to his bed head. Loki grabbed ahold of the neckline of your dress. A sharp rip filled the air as he tore your dress right down the centre. “My prince!”

“Quiet.” He pulled the fabric away from you with a few tugs, exposing your naked body to him. “Good.” He cupped your bare backside. “Now I can see all of you.” His fingers sought out your swollen clit, still sensitive from the stimulation. You shuddered and bucked when he rolled it between two fingers.

“Please,” you begged.

“Please what?” Loki taunted. “What do you want?” You placed your forehead on the bed and let out a whimper. The prince slapped your ass again, making you jump. “Say it, pet.” He spread his palm against the skin he just abused. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

You heard his clothes falling to the floor—the heavy thump of his leather coat and the swish of his tunic pulled over his head. Then came the trousers, the unbuckling of the expensive belt and the zipper that followed. All of it went until Loki gripped your hip and you felt his hard tip poke your entrance. You whined when he sank the head inside, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate the intrusion.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice strained with need. “Stretch around my cock, good girl.” He was so big, probably the biggest you’d ever had. Your core felt stuffed to an impossible degree, and you whined when you remembered he had more to go. “What’s the matter? Is it too much?” You nodded in shame.

“You’re so big,” you whimpered out. “I—”

“Shhh, you can take it.” Loki reached around you to cup your breasts. He twirled the nubs between his fingers and bottomed out without warning.

“Oh fuck!” Your walls struggled to accommodate to his size. They clenched and unclenched on his length in repetitive motions until you felt like the muscles would give out.

“Relax,” you heard the prince say. He leaned down to nuzzle his face into your hair, displaying affection you had not credited him with. “Just breathe. You’re doing so well.” His fingers found your clit again, stroking it with precise movements that built an aching need in your lower stomach. He pulled out until just the tip was inside you, then slammed back in with a force that took your breath away.

“Norns!” He felt exquisite. Every thrust of his member hit your cervix with a vengeance, afflicting you with a plethora of feelings. The ache from his size blended with the bliss of the drag of his shaft against your walls until you were almost crying from the overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes closed, cheeks puffing out with harsh breaths as he drilled into you from behind. Both his hands held your hips to keep his position on the bed.

“Pet, you feel so good.” He delivered three quick spanks to your left butt cheek that had your walls quivering around him. “So fucking good. My little slut. The best cunt I’ve ever fucked.”

His praise and degradation made you giddy with glee. The bed beneath you shook with the force of his thrusts, and it was then that you remembered who was fucking you. Loki was not just a prince; but a god, and this showed in the strength of every single one of his thrusts. You were surprise the bed had not given out with the way the bedhead rocked against the wall. Whose bedroom was even next to his? Thor’s? You could not recall at the moment, and just hoped it was not the king’s or worse, his mother’s.

“Where is your head, pet?” Loki fisted his hand in your hair to lift your head. He turned it to the side so you could see him in your periphery. “Has my cock knocked all thoughts out of your head? Hmm? Such a pretty little thing.” He leaned down to nibble on the shell of your ear. “My dumb little whore. Can’t even speak when I’m fucking you.”

You would be offended by his words if they did not turn you on, or if you were able to form a coherent though. His rutting reduced you to a babbling, leaking mess that could only be cleaned up by him. The prince had done it now. He had effectively ruined you for any other lover. No cock— plastic or flesh— would ever compare to him after this, and no one would ever handle your distinct preferences in the way he had. It was Loki or nothing.

“Are you ready to cum?” You whined, having been teetering on the edge for quite some time now. The only thing stopping you from reaching your end was a lack of clitoral stimulation, so you sagged in relief when you felt long fingers prodding at your bud. “I suppose I can let you cum again. You’ve taken me so well in this cunt, and it would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste.”

Tears streamed down your face when he pressed his thumb against your clit. You sobbed into the pillow at the pleasure and let him bring you over the edge. It did not take long. A few circles and the snap of his hips against your sweet spot had stars floating in your vision. Loki swore behind you, hips growing sloppy until he pulled out altogether. His warm seed hit your lower back, your position allowing the stickiness to slide down.

“Pet.” The restraints were released and you were turned onto your back. A ceiling came into view, painted with pictures of constellations in a night sky. Loki’s blurry face appeared in your line of vision. “Darling?” Your eyes focused on him. His hand smoothed the hair away from your face. “Are you okay?” Relief washed over his face when you nodded your ascent. “Good. I was afraid I went too far.”

Loki adjusted you so you were lying comfortably on the fluffy pillow. He pulled the blankets over you and continued smoothing your hair back. You eyed him with confusion. The prince was not one for such displays of gentleness. Over the years you had been serving him, you had seen him use and discard countless lovers like napkins.

“You’re being nice,” you told him. “Gentle.” He scoffed.

“I am always nice to you, darling.” He raised a hand in the air. Green swirled around it, producing the red book he had been carrying earlier. “Here.” Loki tilted the book so you could see the cover.

Oh. You reached out and took it from him. “This is the book of poetry I wanted.” Your eyes went to him. “Where did you get this? It’s only available on—”

“Midgard, I know. I went there to get it for you.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. “When?”

“Just now.”

“Before the celebration?”

“I didn’t go to the celebration,” he told you. “I went to Midgard.”

“Why?”

Loki laughed— that deep, rich sound you could pick out of a crowd. “To get you the book, darling.”

“I mean why did you get it for me?” you clarified. “I hope you did not think I was asking for it when I mentioned it.”

“Darling,” his voice was firm, more prince than Loki, and you went silent. “I got you the book because I wanted you to have it. Say thank you and enjoy the gift.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, holding the book to your chest. Loki nodded and placed his head on the pillow next to yours. He bent one arm behind his head, eyes closing for a few seconds too long. “What are you doing?” He popped open one eye.

“I’m trying to sleep.” The lone green orb traveled to you. “Will you let me?”

You rose off the bed. “I should go.” You had already overstayed your welcome as is and decided it would be best to leave before Loki kicked you out.

“Wait.” His hand touched your lower back. “Stay. I never asked you to leave.”

“I…”. Your finger traced the capital ‘E’ of the book nervously. “I am your maid.”

“And I am the prince, the sky is blue, Thor is an oaf…” Loki pulled you against his chest, placing an open palm on the bare skin of your back. The book left your hands and took up residence on his side table. “Rest,” he told you. “When you wake, it is time for round two.”

Part 2

Taglist: @alexakeyloveloki

[chericarlisle]

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment. 

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

 It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school. 

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students. 

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day. 

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination. 

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time. 

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend. 

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens. 

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door. 

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions. 

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor. 

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours. 

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you. 

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt. 

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would. 

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?” 

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.” 

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done. 

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.” 

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out. 

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful. 

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand. 

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.” 

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in. 

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!” 

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.” 

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare. 

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment. 

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.” 

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you. 

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh. 

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

[waitimcomingtoo]

Give Yourself a Try

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers

Synopsis: you and Peter hate each other, which becomes a problem when you’re given a group project

Part two and three

Masterlist

“Good morning Ned.” You kindly greeted as you took your seat in front of Peter in your first period physics class.

“Morning Y/n.” Ned said back, gearing up for what he knew was coming.

“I really like your makeup today, Y/n.” Peter smiled as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it hard balancing your schoolwork with your job at the circus?”

“Not at all.” You smiled sweetly at him as you turned around. “I could get you a job there if you’d like. We’ve been needing something small to feed to the lions between shows. You’d be perfect.”

“Small? Darling, you must be mistaken.” Peter kept a sickly sweet grin on. “I’m bigger than your boyfriend of the week over there.”

“Silly goose.” You scrunched your nose at him. “Harry Osborn is not my boyfriend. And just so you know, steroids are really bad for you. I’m worried about your well being.”

“I’m not on steroids.” Peter hissed, dropping the act. “Stop trying to start that rumor.”

“Why not?” You shot back. “You had no trouble spreading the rumor that I was the one who killed Herbie the hamster when we all know it was you who left the door open after cleaning his cage.”

“Are you kidding me? That was fifth grade.” He whispered harshly.

“I will never forget it.” You snapped back.

“Ahem.” The teacher cleared her throat as she stared at you and Peter with an annoyed expression. This was an everyday occurrence in her class, and any other class you had with Peter. You hated each other and everyone knew it. You and Peter stopped arguing and slumped in your seats, giving each other one last look of disdain.

“Instead of a final exam this semester, I’ll be giving you a final project.” The teacher continued. “You’ll be working with one other student.”

“Nice. We can finally present our work on quantum physics.” Peter excitedly high fived Ned.

“Can you guys reschedule your virgin convention for later?” You asked seriously. “I’m trying to listen.”

“Because of the disappointing grades on the last project, I will be assigning your partners.” The teacher went on.

“Don’t worry.” Peter whispered to Ned again. “We could still end up together. We got an A last time so she knows we work well together.”

“We got an A last time.” You mimicked his voice and moved your hand like a puppet.

“Yeah. An A.” Peter said as he leaned forward in his seat. “You know, like your bra size.”

“What did you just say to me?” You snapped as you whipped around. He had on his infamous shit eating grin that you hated.

“Young man, can you please stop interrupting our conversation?” He said as he held up a hand. Your jaw dropped at the insult, face growing warm with anger. You decide not to give him the satisfaction of an insult exchange and turned around in your seat. Your teacher began to list off the partners for the projects.

“Leeds, Stacy.” She called out. “You’ll be working together.”

“Sorry, man. But also, not sorry man.” Ness frown quickly turned into a smile. “Gwen, over here!”

“Aw.” You snickered as you turned around on your chair. “I feel bad for whoever gets stuck with you now. That poor, unfortunate soul.”

“Parker. L/n. You’ll be working together.”

“What?” You and Peter screamed in unison. You gave each other an angry look before looking at your teacher in protest.

“You two are always holding up my class and I’m tired of it.” She held up a hand. “This project will teach you how to finally get along and stop disrupting me while I teach.”

“Mrs. Avery, with all due respect, I can feel myself getting more disruptive already.” You told her.

“I think that’s your STD.” Peter mumbled.

“You two need to learn how to be professional and amicable.” She ignored your protest. “You won’t always like your peers. But you will always have to collaborate with them at some point.”

“I understand that.” You assured her. “But if we do this project together, my fist is going to collaborate with Peters face.”

“That’s a threat.” Peter piped up. “I’d like to file a report.”

“And I’d like to take that report and shove it up your-“

“Enough.” Mrs. Avery cut you off. “You will be working together and that is final.”

You both shrunk in your seats, fuming with anger over the teachers decision. You didn’t cause any more disruptions throughout the class and quickly left once the bell rang.

Peter saw you at your locker, which was coincidentally next to his locker, spraying some perfume on.

“Darling!” Peter exclaimed as he stood next to you. “So good to see you! You know how much I love when you hog all the locker space and make the entire hallways smell like perfume.”

“Why, thank you.” You touched your hand to your heart. “As I’m sure you know, some of us prefer to smell like things other than Neosporin and baby powder. After all, that’s your signature scent and I’d just hate to step on your toes.”

“I didn’t know. Thank you for opening your gigantic mouth and telling me!” Peter said through a toothy grin.

“Oh, Peter.” You laughed airily. “You’re very welcome, you sad sack of shit.”

“Classy.” Peter faked a smile as he opened his locker. “Do you want to come over to my house after school to work on the project? I live walking distance from here.”

“What? No.” You scoffed. “You’re not getting me to a secondary location. We’ll work in the library.”

“Actually, we won’t, because it’s closed for maintenance.” He replied with a tight smile.

“I wish you were closed for maintenance.” Yoh grumbled as you zipped up your bag.

“Hilarious.” He fake laughed loudly. “Are you coming over or not?”

“Not.” You said in disgust. “I don’t know you or your parents. You might try to kill me as a part of some Parker family cult ritual.”

“My parents are dead.” He told you, unamused. “It’s just me and my aunt.”

“Is your aunt a cult leader?” You asked.

“No.” He groaned.

“Cult member?”

“No. All she does is cheat at cross world puzzles and shop at Whole Foods.” He said.

“So you lied.” You slammed your locker and looked at him. “She’s in the Whole Foods cult.”

“Can you try not to be difficult for two minutes, please? We need to get this project done.”

“Jokes on you, Parker.” You folded your arms. “Difficult is my lowest setting.”

“Ooo. Scary.” He mocked you. “What’s your highest? Because I’m pretty sure I saw it last Tuesday when your backpack got stuck on the door handle and you decided to blame me.”

“I know that was your fault. And I go from difficult to hooligan to the step mom from Parent Trap.” You shrugged.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” Peter replied as he slapped his knee. You raised an eyebrow at him, judging him for his material.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“You’re gonna be sorry.” You told him. “Where do you live again?”

“Waking distance from here. I said that less than five minutes ago.” He rolled his eyes at you.

“Well I didn’t hear that because I tune you out when you speak. You know, like most people do.” You said sweetly.

“Wow, you’re so funny.” Peter said sarcastically. “If I meet you here at the end of the day, will you come home with me?”

“Fine.” You huffed. “I’ll go home with you. But if I start detecting any cult shit going on, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you later.”

~

“Are you ready to go?” Peter asked after the last bell had rang. You shouldered your backpack and shut your locker, feeling unusually anxious around him. You could deal with Peter for 40 minutes at a time when all you did was trade insults. Something about walking to his home together and spending time alone knocked the confidence right out of you.

“I’m ready.” You nodded.

“What, no insult?” He asked. “No mocking of my voice?”

“We were assigned each other as partners so we could learn to be civil, right?” You shrugged. “I guess I’m just mature enough to give it a try.”

“There she is.” Peter smiled as you began to walk in the direction of his apartment. “There’s my girl.”

You looked to the side when you heard him say this, unsure of how it made you feel. You often called each other pet names ironically, but this felt different. There was a change in the dynamic between the two of you and it was clouding your judgment.

You let Peter do all the talking as you walked home, thankful that he lived so close to the school. He spewed out ideas for the project the entire elevator ride up and didn’t stop until you were standing outside his bedroom door.

Peter stopped talking and opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. You made a face at him before walking, staying in one spot as he shut the door and sat down. You were frozen as you looked around his room, not liking how human it made him. He had notes from classes you didn’t have with him strewn around and an open first aid kit on his desk.

“You can sit.” He chuckled when he noticed how stiff you were.

“I’m scared to.” You admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly. Something about sitting on this boys bed with him seemed finalizing, like you’d be opening a door you couldn’t close.

“Just sit down.” He repeated. “I didn’t rig the place with boobytraps, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s what someone who rigged the place with booby traps would say.” You replied as you took a hesitant seat on his bed.

“There. Isnt that nice?” He asked sarcastically.

“No.” You said immediately. “Am I the first girl to ever sit on your bed?”

“Psh. No.”

“I’ll take that as a yes ma’am.” You mumbled.

“Whatever.” He replied. “What do you want to do the project on?”

“How about micropenises?” You suggested. “You won’t even have to do any research.”

“Haha. So funny.” He rolled his eyes. “You are so annoying it’s actually impressive.”

“Please.” You laughed. “You so have a crush on me.”

“What?” His entire face went red. “No I don’t.”

“No I don’t.” You mimicked his voice. “Yes you do. That’s why you’re up my ass all the time.”

“That makes no sense.” He scoffed.

“It makes total sense.” You insisted. “You know I’ll never like you back, so you made me hate you. That way, you still get to talk to me all the time. Genius, really. I applaud you.”

“That’s a nice little fantasy you’ve created for yourself. Is that what you tell yourself to help you fall asleep?” He teased you.

“Yep.” You smiled brightly. “Right after I finger blast myself to the thought of you in your Catholic schoolboy sweaters.”

“Oh my God.” His cheeks turned even redder at your inappropriate joke.

“And they said women aren’t funny.” You used his words from earlier.

“They were right.” He said, making you laugh.

“God, I love it when you talk down to me.” You fanned yourself. “Can you tell me how to change a tire?”

Peter began to laugh as well, looking at you as you both laughed. You quickly stopped laughing when you realized you just gave him a genuine smile and looked away.

“Do you want to do the project on tensile strength?” You suggested to break the tension. “I know you’re weirdly into that.”

“How’d you know?” He wondered.

“You almost popped a boner when we talked about in last month.” You teased him. “It’s just rope, dude.”

“It’s not just rope. It’s the force-“

“-the force required to pull something until it breaks. I know.” You finished his sentence. “I’m smart too, you know.”

“Oh.” He was dumbfounded that you knew something he was interested in. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Women use brain sometime. Woman say smart thing like man.”

Peter laughed again, realizing you were actually kind of funny when you wanted to be.

“I’m not a misogynist, you know.” Peter said after a beat. “You don’t have to make jokes like that. I may not like you, but I respect you.”

“You respect me?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

“I respect all women. The strongest person I know is my Aunt. Plus, I’ve still never met anyone who was as smart as my mom. I wouldn’t be half the man I was if it weren’t for the women who raised me.” He shrugged. “But it would be ignorant and naive of me to only respect woman who are related to me in some way. So I respect all of them unless they give me a reason not to.”

“Have I given you a reason not to?” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Not yet.” He chuckled to himself. “You’re annoying, but you’re brilliant. I know you would never admit this, but we’re basically the same person. You’re just more extroverted so you have more friends and popularity. And you’re smart but you don’t make that your whole personality, so it impresses more people when you let your intelligence show.”

Your body language shifted when you realized he was actually a nice guy. He clearly paid attention to you and was impressed by what he saw. You didn’t say anything, so Peter kept going.

“People lean in to listen when you start speaking instead of tuning you out.” He brought up your insult from earlier, and you felt bad. You didn’t realize he admired you in any way and you felt guilty for always teasing him. Peter’s kept his eyes down, playing with his fingers to distract himself.

“You’re…you’re kind of every thing I wanted to be.” He said quietly. You smiled softly at him, but he didn’t see it. It was the first time you had a nice moment with Peter, and you didn’t hate it. You could tell he was beginning to panic for sharing so much, so you reached forward and tilted his chin up to look at you. His wide eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile.

“How did your parents die?” You asked quietly, immediately ruining the moment.

“Damn.” Peter pulled away with a shocked laugh. “When was your first period?”

“All right. I get your point.” You rolled your eyes. “That was a little abrupt.”

“You’re telling me.” He teased. You sat in silence for a moment, neither of you sure where to go from there. You knew Peter was still processing you touching his face, so you talked first.

“My parents are dead too.” You said without looking up at him.

“They are?” He asked, scooting a little closer to you on the bed.

“Yeah.” You looked up and gave him a sad smile. “But if you think we’re gonna take a turn and fall in love because we have similar trauma, you’re wrong. I can’t stand orphans.”

“But you’re an orphan.” He reminded you.

“And?”

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “I have a feeling I won’t be getting through to you.”

“Probably not.” You agreed. “Tell me more, though. Did your parents die doing something cool?”

“I don’t really know.” He shrugged. “It was a plane crash. That’s all I’ve been told.”

“Oh.” You nodded. “Sounds lame.”

“What?”

“A plane crash?” You raised your eyebrow. “That’s so boring. Yawn.”

“Excuse me?” He laughed in shock again. “Fine. How did your parents die?”

“Firefighters.” You said proudly. “Died saving three children.”

“Wow.” Peter sat back, stumped.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I was one of them.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widened as he fought the urge to hold your hand.

“No. I’m fucking with you.” You began to laugh as he let out a groan.

“Why would you do that to me?” He whined. “You had me, for a minute there.”

“What can I say? I’m an actor.” You flipped your hair ostentatiously.

“What actually happened?” He wondered. You stopped smiling and bit your bottom lip.

“Drunk driver.” You told him. He didn’t fight the urge this time and reached over to take your hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, wondering if you should pull away or not. On the one hand, he was your enemy. But that didn’t make his warmth any less inviting.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “That must have been really hard on you.”

“You know the feeling, don’t you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I do.” He nodded. “And I know how much it sucked to not have someone who knew how it felt. You don’t have to feel that way anymore. Neither of us do.”

You opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it, not wanting to ruin the moment again. The guy holding your hand was not the same guy who sat behind you in physics. This guy was someone you actually liked.

“I might have misjudged you, Peter Parker.” You laughed shyly. “You might not be as unbearable as I remembered.”

“And you might not be the frigid bitch I thought you were.” He matched your tone.

“Watch it.” You warned.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“You were right.” You said after a beat. “We are pretty much the same person. I never realized that before.”

“Maybe that’s why we don’t get along.” He shrugged, rubbing soft circles into your hand.

“I’d be willing to give it a try, if you were.” You said sheepishly. “Who knows? I might just like you.”

“You want to give this a try?” He asked, eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Why not?” You shrugged. “What do I have to lose?”

“Okay.” He nodded eagerly. “Then we’ll try.”

“Cool.” You smiled.

“Cool.” He said before leaning in for a kiss. Your eyes widened as his fluttered shut, making you realize you were on different pages. His lips made contact with yours for a few seconds before you pushed him off.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Kissing you?” He asked in confusion as hurt flashed in his eyes.

“Why the hell would you do that?” You exclaimed, still in shock. You got off the bed and backed away from him, trying to process what just happened.

“You said we were giving it a try!” He was shouting now too, but not out of anger. “I thought we were finally admitting that we like each other.”

“I meant giving friendship a try! I never said anything about a relationship.” You shouted. You quieted down when you saw the upset look on his face. “You... you like me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” He said quietly. “I-I thought you knew. You said it before and I just…I thought you knew.”

“Peter, I was joking when I said all that stuff.” You calmed down and sat back on his bed. “I didn’t actually think you liked me.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times before looking down. “I…I do.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You reached for his hand again but his withdrew it.

“No, it’s my fault.” He shook his head and got off the bed. “I misunderstood the situation.”

“Peter, wait.” You caught him by the wrists and pulled him back down to the bed. He sat down again but looked anywhere but at you. You could see that his eyes were glassy so you put a hand on his face.

“You were right.” His voice wavered. “I did like you and I did think you’d never like me back. That’s why I always tease you. I just wanted you to talk to me.”

“Pete.” You whispered, rubbing his cheekbone with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t want to be here right now. I’ll email you my part of the project and-“

You cut him off by wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You both had your eyes closed this time and it lasted much longer. Your lips moved against his slowly and you could feel how inexperienced he was. Even so, it was perfect. You pulled away after a minute and looked into his eyes, feeling better now that there were no traces of sadness in them.

“You kissed me.” He said, dumbfounded.

“I can’t know I don’t like you back if I never give you a chance.” You shrugged as you withdrew your hand from his face.

“Well what did you decide?” He asked curiously. You puckered your lips and tilted your head, staring at him as if you were making a decision.

“I still think you’re super annoying.” You concluded.

“Okay.” Peter nodded.

“But it’s an annoying I’m willing to put up with.” You decided as you slipped your hand back into his. Peter broke out into a smile and nodded again.

“Okay.”

Tag List 🏷

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[mortedeveles]

a whisker away― 1 | HQ Movie Collab!

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

SUMMARY: After a strange series of events, turning into a cat becomes part of your daily routine, in which you visit your crush- Kenma, every day after school. But he doesn’t know you’re the cat that visits him. And to make things worse, you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep this up before your world spirals out of your control.

PAIRING: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

GENRE & THEME:  A Whisker Away! AU (movie), fluff to angst to fluff, pining. [(two part) ONE-SHOT] [Haikyu Movie Collab!]

TAG’S & TW: Cursing, a bit of unhealthy family dynamics. Mentions of social anxiety, rejection. Some angst, mentions of insecurities and small graphic violence. Reader might come off a bit as yandere-ish/obsessive but she’s just head over heels over Kenma, who’s barely discovering his feelings as well. 

WORD COUNT: 5.7K! 

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m here with my first Kenma fic :) Which is part of @/hitokas-angel Haikyuu Movie Collab! I’ll link the masterlist in my taglist reblog. This fic is based on the movie A Whisker Away but doesn’t follow the entire plot, and I haven’t written in a while and this is my first time writing for Kenma, so I hope it’s okay! <3 Please REBLOG, like and COMMENT if you enjoy! 

Second (and final) part will be out this upcoming week! If you want to be added to the taglist, check my pinned post. 

People are a fickle thing, Kenma thinks. And he snorts at the thought, knowing he isn't any better than any of the passing strangers he's walking by as he heads to Nekoma High. But still, there's something about people, about crowds and socializing that makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

People are hard to deal with. If he can barely deal with himself, why bother with others? It's not that he's a sociopath, he does have friends and family he cares about. And he cares about what others think of him. But still, socializing is so intimidatingly hard that he'd rather just avoid it altogether if possible. 

Even with his headphones, he can hear the loud blaring of cars, the chattering of people that brush against his arms, and he tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the nervous fluttering that's sprouted in his stomach from all the alternating and overwhelming noises. Whatever, it's just a car honking. It's just a little kid screaming. So he braces his arms as he buries his hands in the pockets of his sweater, feeling a bit more relieved as he spots Nekoma High School in the near distance. He usually walks to school with Kuroo, but his friend decided to be productive today and wake up at four in the morning. The mere thought of waking up so early made Kenma yawn and feel drowsy. His eyes feel a bit heavy, though he knows it's his fault for staying up playing video games, again. 

But Kenma doesn't mind the slight drowsiness that courses through his body. In a sense, it feels comforting. Like if the world's been sedated to a more managing level. A world that he can handle without his anxiety bursting through the roof. 

A soft mew snaps him out of his thoughts, and Kenma spots a white kitten rubbing across his legs, and he smiles. It has a unique pattern across its fur, with brown and black spots. He kneels down and gently scratches the cat under its chin, and the furry animal purrs and preens with his touch.

As a small sigh escapes his lips, the boy raises his head and stares at the high school building ahead of him. Several classmates are walking past him and he watches the girls with swishing skirts and boys with their boisterous laugh and messily done ties. 

Despite a large number of students pouring into the building, the morning at Nekoma High is quiet and serene. Giving the black kitten one last scratch, Kenma stands up and heads inside the building, working his way through crowds. His gym bag is heavy in his hand and his backpack slightly thumps against his back, but he pays it no mind as he exits the building and finds his way into the gymnasium. Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku are already in the gymnasium, the three third years chattering amongst themselves. The gym's doors creaked from being pushed open, and Kuroo's gaze snapped towards Kenma, a wry smile crawling onto his lips. 

"Look who got here early. I'm impressed," the black-haired boy crossed his arms, and Kenma rolled his eyes. "You're the first second-year to get here today."

Kenma merely lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment, before trudging towards the locker rooms. He stashes his bag in his locker and then heads out back to the gym, already decked out in his volleyball uniform, but furrows his eyebrows at the sight ahead of him.

Not again. He swallows down an annoyed groan as he spots the all too familiar girl standing with Kuroo, a bright smile painted on her lips as she laughs and talks along with the boy. Why are you here?

"Kenma!" Kuroo calls out for him with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Your super fan is here with a gift." Great. Now he has to talk to you and thank you for whatever you brought. Why couldn't you just take a hint and leave him alone? He thought he made it clear last week when he ignored you as you called out his name and Kenma proceeded to ignore your every word as he raced home. 

"Hi, Kenma!" And there you go again, making his stomach twist with your wide smile. Why did you make him feel this way? He didn't like this feeling. "I had some free time today, so I decided to make you a bento box. I hope you like it," you explain before handing over the box, and Kenma ignores the way his skin heats up as your fingers brush against his. 

"Thank you," he murmurs but refuses to meet your gaze, hoping you'll go away without another second to spare.

"Aww, aren't you two adorable!" Kuroo coos at his left, and Kenma feels his pride shrivel and glares at the black-haired boy, but he pays him no mind.

Kenma drops his gaze to your shiny school shoes, hearing you stammer and step back nervously, and Kuroo's boisterous laugh echoes in the gym. Kenma lifts his gaze as he watches his best friend approach you and watches as your eyes widen as Kuroo grips your chin.

"If Kenma doesn't appreciate your gifts, I sure will. If you ever get tired of him, give me a call, eh?" Yaku and Kai laugh loudly as you squeak and nod, before rushing out of the gym.

"Poor girl, did you see the look on her face? You've tormented her too much, Kuroo," Yaku says with a disapproving tone to his words, but there's a wide grin on his face that says otherwise.

"Relax, it's all just a bit of fun. You don't mind, do you Kenma?" And the boy turns to look at the blonde, dropping his mischievous expression as he faces Kenma with genuine concern. 

"No, of course not." Kuroo relaxes at the boy's response and beams. Kenma turns around towards the benches, ignoring the loud pounding of his heart and the ugly feeling that begins to boil in his stomach. 

                    ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Despite the searing heat that spread across your face after fleeing from the gym, you'd like to think your mission went pretty well. One, you made it to the gym without chickening out and two, you talked to Kenma without looking like an idiot! And three, you handed over the bento box and it was successfully received. 

So you spend the rest of your day at school with a bright smile, the small interaction with Kenma being enough to lift your mood. Soon enough, the school bell chimes softly, and you walk to lunch with your friends, Azumi and Emiko.

While Emiko goes off to the vending machine, her brown hair bouncing with her each step, Azumi and you walk towards a lunch table. But you freeze in your steps at the sight ahead of you. With only a tree and a few bushes separating you two, Kenma and Kuroo walk languidly ahead of you and you quickly duck behind the bushes, pulling Azumi down with you. Before she can protest, you slap your hand over her mouth, signaling her to be quiet. 

"Shh!" You peek your head over the bushes, watching with rapt attention. Kenma walks side by side with Kuroo, the taller one gossiping as they approach a lunch table. They sit down at one of the tables blanketed under the shade of the trees, and your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull out your bento box. He kept it! A small part of you was fearing he would drop kick it at a trash can, but you feel much more relieved now that you see him with your gift. The branches begin to scratch against your forearms and thighs, and your friend grumbles at your side about how the bushes are annoying, but you pay her no mind as you watch almost in slow motion as Kenma opens your bento box and begins to eat. He digs into the food with his chopsticks and you strain your ears to listen as Kuroo speaks. 

"Oh? You're eating the bento box Y/N prepared for you?"

Kenma's brows furrow as he rolls his eyes, before continuing to dig into the food, cheeks puffed out with food. He ignores Kuroo's teasing words, and you don't think the smile on your lips can grow any wider. Wow....have you ever felt this happy before? You can't describe the happiness, the joy, and the satisfaction that blooms from your chest and floods your mind at the sight of your crush eating your food. 

"Okay," you let out a deep breath as you dramatically fall back on the grass, closing your eyes in bliss. "I can peacefully die now..."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Azumi chides you but falls back onto the grass at your side, and you can't stop the giggle that leaves your lips. 

"But it's true," you mumble as you drape your arm over your eyes, blocking off the blinding sunlight. "Kenma took my bento box. Kenma Kozume, the boy I've crushed on for years, took my food! And he's eating it!"

"Nothing else can make you happier, huh?" Your friend says with amusement, and you hum. You push your arm away from your face, and stare at the bright sky, raising your hand upward and partially block the sun's rays. 

"There is something else," you murmur, and Kenma's face flashes across your mind. "But beggars can't be choosers. I'll take what I can."

"What do you want?" Azumi rolls to the side and propels herself with her arm, looking at you expectantly. "Tell me."

You glance at her briefly before looking away with a small smile. You gaze at the sky, and you notice a small, burning light that travels across the blue horizons. A shooting star? That can't be it. It's the middle of the day. But you furrow your brows, a small prayer whispered in your head as you respond to your friend.

"I wish Kenma's heart belongs to me as much as mine belongs to him."

Azumi snorts. She rolls her eyes and lays back down on the grass, and you stifle a giggle.

"Well, good luck with that." She murmurs, and you hum in response. You close your eyes and spread your arms on the grass as the wind gently blows across the open area. 

"Thanks. I'm going to need it." You murmur mostly to yourself, but then you open your eyes and raise yourself from the grass, peeking through the branches and leaves. Kenma is still scarfing down the food you made and Kuroo drinks some canned juice. And you feel newfound determination flooding through your veins as you turn and beam at your friend, eyes set on your goal.

"I can do it. I know I can."

Azumi chuckles, watching you with an amused smile. She then rises from the grass, stretching her limbs before outstretching a hand towards you. 

"Well if it's anyone that can do it, it's you." And you smile. With a small huff, you grab her hand and rise to your feet, feeling much more hopeful than before. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

On the way home, you walk with Azumi and Emiko, but soon enough part ways since you three live on different streets. Humming absentmindedly, you swing your bag in your hands as you walk towards your home with no rush in your steps, feeling as if you have all the time in your hands. Your mind drifts back to Kenma- as it always does, and you smile. You're determined to win him over, but truthfully, you're not sure how. A small sigh leaves your lips, and you begin to pick up your pace when you hear a loud crash from the alley on your left.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn around and look into the rather dark alley, feeling your heart pound loudly. Uh oh. This can't be good. But you're frozen in place, and all you can do is watch in slight horror as a large and tall figure stomps out of the alley, slowly leaving shadows as it steps into the light. And you find yourself looking at... a cat?

That is if you can call this...thing, a cat. 

Towering over you, the overweight white cat stands on its two paws, black and brown spots littering its fur. Strangely enough, the animal sports a dark blue kimono with a mustard yellow cloak draped over the clothing and a red scarf wrapped around its thick neck. And the weirdest of it all? The cat is smoking a pipe. Rather than being afraid, you're stuck in place as confusion swarms your thoughts.

"Uh..." You stare up at the cat, whose eyes are closed. "Hello?"

"Greetings, human." And the cat exhales a puff of smoke right on your face. Coughing, you furrow your brows with annoyance. "I've heard your prayers, so I am here with an offer."

Oh. Wait, what? How could've he heard your mental prayers? Maybe it was the shooting star- assuming it was a shooting star. But whatever the reason is, you don't dwell on it too much as you swallow and take a step back.

"Which is...?" You wait for the cat to continue. Maybe you're hallucinating, which wouldn't be too crazy to consider. Maybe you've been hallucinating this entire day because God knows it's been too good to be true. 

The cat harrumphs, before opening its cloak, revealing a set of colorful masks. Pretty, you murmur to yourself, and the cat chuckles.

"I heard your pleads, and I am here to help. But I'm no love god, so I cannot make that boy fall in love with you. However," he pauses and grins, sharp teeth glinting. "I am the Mask Seller. I give masks to cats who wish to be humans, and I give masks to humans who wish to be cats."

"..." You frown, not liking the strange glint in the cat's eyes. You don't trust him. "And how would that help me win Kenma over?"

The Mask Seller laughs loudly, his belly slightly bouncing. "I have been watching you and the boy for some time now. You, more than anyone, should know why being a cat will change things."

Racking your head for the answer, you go through your memories of Kenma. A cat? Why would being a cat change anything? But then it dawns on you, and a small noise of understanding leaves your lips. 

"He loves cats," you rush the words, eyes wide and the Mask Seller nods. "If I were a cat, I could approach him easily, and learn more about him! And then, I could use that information to become closer to him as a human-,"

"You catch on fast," the cat croons, and you nod eagerly. But then you frown. Why is he offering to help you? What does he get out of this?

"What are the conditions? Price? Rules?" You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.

"No money involved," the cat's low voice has you relaxing, but you still can't let down your guard. This is too good to be true. "But there are some conditions and rules you have to follow. And a small fee." 

"I'm listening," you nod in understanding. The cat tugs one of the masks hanging from his cloak, a white cat mask that only covers the upper half of your face, with red and pink markings. He places it firmly in your hands, and then clears his throat. "The mask has a time limit. You can only wear it for one hour and a half per day. After that time, you will turn back into a human. And once my services are no longer needed, I will come to collect the mask. And my fee, of course." The glint in his feline eyes has you swallowing nervously, brows furrowing.

"What's this 'fee' you're talking about? You said I don’t have to pay you money." But the Mask Seller only chuckles before flipping backward, and you watch with a slackened jaw as he spins into the air, before floating down to a pipe and waves at you before swiftly squeezing down the passage.

"You'll see! Enjoy your new life." 

And then you're left alone, standing in front of the alley with a cat mask in your hands. 

Frowning, you stare down at the mask, turning it around. There's no engraving, inscription, or any indication of where it was made or such. Oh well. With a sigh, you hoist your bag around your shoulder and continue walking home, the cat mask held tightly in your hands.

Once you reach your home's doorstep, you stop. Pinching your arm, you wince at the stinging pain that shoots up your dream. Well, that crosses out one thing. You're not dreaming. 

Swinging the door open, you announce your arrival, take off your shoes and kiss your mother's cheek, before racing up the stairs towards your bedroom. You need to know whether the mask will work before getting your hopes up, or if you've been having major hallucinations the entire day. A part of you hopes for it to work. Dropping your school bag on the ground, you examine the mask once again, tracing your fingers over the marks. It's a bit similar to a kitsune mask. Taking a deep breath, you straighten your posture before raising the mask and clasping it tight against your face. 

And then it happens. A powerful breeze sweeps into your room, even though your windows are closed, and you feel the world spinning. Closing your eyes tightly, you slowly open them after a few seconds. 

Woah. When was your bag this big? Things look a bit different, a bit sharper. And you're definitely way smaller than before. Glancing downwards, you spot your paws. White, soft, furry paws. The paws of a cat.

Oh my God. It worked! You want to squeal and scream with excitement, but all that leaves your mouth is a small, gentle mew. 

Oh, right. You're a cat. You can't talk. So instead, you walk towards your balcony, thankful you didn't close it last night as you nudge it open with your head. Once it slides open, you take a step forward before examining your paws. You can retract your claws at your own will. That's pretty cool, you think, but it's time to test them out. Leaping forward, you sink your claws into the cement wall and climb upwards, surprised at how easy it is. Perhaps everything is easier as a cat. 

Once you've reached the top of the half-wall of your balcony, you begin to leap on roofs, tread on pipes and sidewalks until you've reached Kenma's house. Ever since you went there for a project in middle school, you've never forgotten his address. Is it creepy? Maybe- okay, yeah, it is creepy, but it's not like you stalk him! You simply memorized his address by heart. Blame it on your love haze from seventh grade, the same love haze that continues to influence your current actions. 

You walk around his house until you reach his bedroom window. You wonder what he'll think, seeing a white kitten peeking through his window. Dread boils in your stomach when you realize he might not even be home at all. What if he's still at volleyball practice? You might've come all the way here for nothing.

But much to your surprise, after climbing up to his window, you find yourself staring at him. Kenma sits at his desk, black headphones on his head as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He must be doing homework, you ponder. Deciding to not interrupt him just yet, you look around in his bedroom, observing the decoration. 

It's rather simple, with beige walls and a wooden floor. On the right corner of his room, a bed is pushed against the wall with pastel green blankets, and to the bed's left, there's a wooden desk with a PC, as well as several stacks of books, what seems to look like comics, and some gaming equipment. 

After you've gotten bored of looking around in his bedroom, you scratch at his window, mewing softly. He doesn't look up, and you find your stomach twisting. What if he just thinks you're a strange stray and ignores you? Or worse, kicks you out of his home? Dear God, you did not think this through. Why did you take that mask again? Your mother did tell you to never accept gifts from strangers. 

But before your endless cycle of overthinking can fully commence, your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull off his headphones and stare at you through the window for a few seconds. You watch his short, dirty blonde hair slightly move with his movements and his slightly parted lips. And you know he sees nothing more but a white kitten, but a part of you hopes that he sees through the magic, and sees you. It's me, Kenma. 

Almost hesitantly, he walks over to his window and pulls it open. You sit down patiently and chirp softly once the window has been lifted. Kenma looks rather confused but doesn't say anything as he reaches a hand towards you and begins to gently scratch your chin. That feels good. You purr and lean into his touch, and you hear a soft chuckle leave his lips. Oh. My. God.

"How did you get up here?" He murmurs, mostly to himself and all you can do is meow in response. 

You watch as he stares at his closed door, before turning back to you. And then, you feel his warm and soft hands go underneath your arms as he picks you up from the edge of the window and brings you to his bed. Kenma runs his fingers through your white fur, and the heat his body emits is almost comforting and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"You like cuddles, don't you?" He says, with a teasing smile that you've never seen before. If you were in human form right now, you're sure you would've passed out by now. 

You let out a soft mew and reach for his cheek with one of your paws, but Kenma laughs as he grabs your paw and squeezes it gently in his hand.

This is it. You've never seen Kenma smile before, much less laugh, and there are no words to describe how it makes you feel. All you can think about is that you need to see it again.

                   ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Your life has taken a strange twist, to say the least. After enduring school, you race home and pull on the mask, heading straight to Kenma's house. You spend an hour there, cuddled in his arms or his lap as he plays video games, one of his hands resting on the top of your head. Kuroo has even come over a few times and seems to enjoy your presence as well. Kenma even feeds you sometimes, but most times you refuse, not liking how your stomach feels once you turn back human. 

"Mmm." Kenma hums as you lay on his chest, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck, buried between your fur. And you purr, closing your eyes. "You smell like heaven. But I wonder," he leans back for a moment, assessing your frame. "What's your name? Do you have a family?" 

"Give it a break, Kenma," Kuroo says at his side, reaching a hand to pet you. His movements are rather brutish and rough and you grumble as he pets your fur. 

"I'm sure she has a family that feeds her. You can't feel her bones or anything, she's a healthy weight."

The boy sighs in response, before sitting up on his bed, moving you to his lap. "But I still get worried," he gently runs his fingers through your fur. "Where does she go after coming here?"

You meow in response. I'm fine, Kenma. You don't need to worry over me. He chuckles, raising you to his face, his nose gently bopping against yours. You stare into his golden eyes, wondering how someone's eyes could be as beautiful and hypnotizing as his, and you feel yourself fall a little bit more in love.

"Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Kuroo says as he flops onto the bed, bouncing a volleyball in his hands. 

"Yeah," Kenma murmurs, and you don't miss the way he averts his eyes and how his voice lowers. Does he not like his birthday? "It's this Friday."

"I'm gonna get you some apple pie. Let's go to the park after school on Friday, and then we can go to that arcade you like going to." You turn to look at Kuroo. If you were in your human form, you would've been smiling softly. Though Kuroo can be loud and boisterous at times, you can tell that he cares for Kenma.

"Apple pie is good," he murmurs as his fingers scratch your head. "I like it."

 Your ears perk up at this as an idea pops into your head. Kuroo's going to give him apple pie, but probably store-bought. Which means you can bake him homemade apple pie and buy him a few more gifts. He'll love it! Seeing that his birthday is only in two days, you spring up from his chest and race towards the window. You don't have any time to waste. 

"Huh- wait!" You stop, hearing the sudden surprise in Kenma's words. Mewing softly, you lick your paw and meow one more time before leaping out of the window. That should suffice as a goodbye, right? It's not like you can go up to him and say, "See you later!" You're in the body of a cat, after all.

Once you've dropped down to the soft grass, you begin to make your way home, making mental calculations of what you need to buy and prepare. And you feel giddiness shoot through your chest, butterflies awakening in your stomach. Who knows, maybe the gift will win him over? You can only hope so. 

          ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

By the time Kenma's birthday, October 16th, rolls by, you feel ready as ever. Speed walking to school, you're decked out in your school uniform, carrying the warm apple pie in one hand, and a gift bag in the other, while your bag is slung over your shoulders. You can't stop the giddy smile that crawls on your lips, which only grows wider at the sight of your two friends, Emiko and Azumi waiting for you at your designated spot. 

"Hey there," Azumi chimes in while Emiko gasps at the sight in your arms.

"Y/N! What's all this?" Her words are chipper and her eyes are wide as you smile and begin to walk towards the school, the two girls at your sides.

"It's Kenma's birthday today, so I decided to bake him apple pie and I bought him some gifts. I hope he'll like them," you feel your insecurities seep in your last words, slightly frowning as you look down at your apple pie. You were a good baker, having done many other desserts in the past, but you can't help but fear that he won't like your baking.

"Wow. You really went all out," Azumi comments and you giggle. The three of you continue to gossip as you walk towards Nekoma High and it isn't long until the school building towers over you. You feel your stomach twist as you take in a deep breath. 

Azumi pats your shoulder, while Emiko beams at you and gives you a thumbs up.

"You should give it to him before classes start. Good luck!" The brunette says with a wide smile and you smile back, before marching into the building. Here goes nothing. 

It takes you a few minutes to find Kenma, knowing he'll probably be in the gymnasium, but you decide to check some other classrooms just in case. When you can't find him in any classroom, you grimace and speedwalk towards the gym, knowing you're running out of time. You only have eight minutes left before the school bell rings and then you'll have to head to class. 

Once you've reached the gym, you slowly push the doors open, silently praying that only Kuroo and Kenma are in the gym. 

But your prayers go unheard as a ball rolls right towards your feet, and the boy's volleyball team freezes when they spot you. A small moment of awkwardness passes through before you clear your throat and walk towards Kenma, giving the other boys a tight-lipped smile. Kenma sits on one of the benches, drinking from his water bottle as a sheen layer of sweat rolls down from his forehead. When you stand in front of him, he sets his water bottle to the side and stares at you, mouth slightly parted open. 

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. He takes them silently, staring at them, and you decide to take this as your chance to escape. Quickly turning on your heel, you half-race out of the gym, feeling your face burn with embarrassment once again. And then you press your back against the gym's wall, catching your breath as your cheeks burn. But then you smile, a small laugh falling from your lips. You did it. 

═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Kenma isn't a fan of birthdays. He'll endure his friend's birthdays and he'll even help with the surprise parties, but there's something about them that makes his stomach churn. Especially when it's his birthday. He's not the biggest fan of celebrating his birthday and he tries to avoid it when he can, but of course, Kuroo won't let it slip by this year.

He's barely arrived at the gym and Kenma frowns as he notices that no one's here yet. The gymnasium is dark and empty, and he wonders if he missed a memo or something. Did they not have practice today? 

He sighs, dropping his gym bag on the ground. He'll wait a few minutes, maybe he's early today? But then he hears something shuffle, and he freezes. What was that....?

Then a grumble. Kenma raises a brow, both confused and wary. Is there a ghost or are his teammates pranking him? Neither outcomes sound pleasant.

"...Who's there?"

A sigh. And then, before Kenma can brace himself, the entire volleyball team jumps from the bleachers, shouting eagerly. 

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Jesus Christ! Kenma jumps in his spot, heart thundering as he processes the situation. Okay, so not a ghost. Just his teammates being annoying as usual. Kuroo and Lev are grinning like doofuses, holding a banner that says, 'Happy Birthday Kenma!' Kai holds an apple pie in his hands, a serene smile on his face, Yaku holds the other end of the banner, and the rest of the first and second years hold balloons and throw streamers into the air.

All of this, just for him? 

"What's this?" Kenma murmurs, still wracking his brain as he tries to process his emotions. Lev's about to open his mouth, but Yaku reaches over and slaps his hand over the Russian's mouth, a forced smile on his lips.

Kuroo clears his throat, beaming. "Just a surprise celebration! We wanted to do something special. You don't turn seventeen every day."

And Kenma feels his chest warm, and there's a smile that's threatening to break onto his face, but he holds it back and gives them a small smile, not sure if he can handle so many emotions.

"...Thank you." And he is, he feels thankful and only feels even more thankful as his friends cheer and suddenly rush towards him, embracing him tightly in his arms. He can't help the laugh that leaves his lips and feels serene. Kenma's never been a fan of his birthday, but his friends make it a little bit better. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

The team quickly calms down and begins practice, a few laps, then practicing their spikes and receives. Kenma walks over to the benches and takes a seat as he drinks from his water bottle when the gym doors creak open.

Everyone turns to look at the intruder, and Kenma's stomach squirms. It's you again. And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, and he hates the way it makes him feel.

It's dead silent, and you stand at the door for a second before quickly walking towards him, and Kenma's heart pounds even louder. He doesn't understand you. Why do you pursue him so much? You're cute, he can't deny it. So why, out of all the people in Nekoma High, did you chase after him? And why is it making his heart go wild?

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. A freshly baked apple pie that smells absolutely delicious, and a large red gift bag. 

Oh wow... He's speechless. He doesn't know what to say. It feels like with the surprise celebration, and it feels like too much. What is he supposed to say? But before he can even regain his composure, you're rushing out of the gym, and Kenma's stomach churns. Oh... 

Once the gym doors close with a loud slam, the entire team turns to look at him. They blink, and then they leap. Kenma yelps as the entire team rush towards him, yapping and all of them speaking at the same time.

"Lemme see what she got you!"

"Y/N L/N is so adorable!"

"Kenma, have you secretly been dating Y/N this entire time?!" Fukunaga pipes in, and Kenma finds his face heating up as his eyes widen.

"What?! Of course not!" And then Kuroo's snickering as he sits next to Kenma, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"She's a sweet girl. Why don't you give her a chance?"

He lets out a shaky breath, his poor heart barely handling all the commotion. Kenma definitely needs at least one hour of cuddling with his white kitten after school to recover from all this. He blocks out what his friends say as his thoughts drift off, and he furrows his brows. 

Wait a minute. How did you know he likes apple pie?

A/N: Hey!! I hope you enjoyed the first half of this one-shot :)) I totally did not speedrun it 1-2 days before the collab event was live 😭😭I’ve been busy with school and just life in general so I haven’t had much time to write tbh. And plus I’m lazy :,) but anyway! I hoped you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it :DD The 2nd and final part of this one-shot will be out this week!

Please REBLOG, like + comment if you enjoyed! <3 

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

[oitommothetease]

Parasitoid

Pairing: Dark!Andy Barber x Female reader 

Description: A parasitoid is an organism that lives in close association with its host at the host's expense, eventually resulting in the death of the host.

Word Count: 1.7k words

Warning : dark themes (minors go away), 18+, dubious consent, degradation, impact play,D/S dynamic, maybe even S&M dynamic idk, delusional reader, angst, cheating, manipulative Andy, smut, reader just wants to be loved, toxic relationship, gaslighting, age gap, this is really messed up and dark, please let me know if I missed something

A/N - I know y’all want soft Bucky but lemme give you dark Andy instead. Yeah, I think I need help.

At first, sleeping with your married boss was exciting. Bodies moving in sync with the fear of getting caught only increased the adrenaline and your desire for the man — Andy Barber.

You didn’t expect to get a call back after your horrible interview with the most famous district attorney in Newton. You did not expect to get the job as his assistant. Furthermore, you certainly did not expect yourself to fuck him in his office three months later. But that's what you get when you mix a tough case with bourbon.

 It was supposed to be a one-time thing — a stress relief for both of you. You were aware of his marriage and his son — it was hard to ignore the family picture situated on the table while Andy thrusted in and out of you from behind. In some sick sense, you felt pride — looking at the brown eyes of his wife, Laurie, through the glass in the frame. You thought that you had the upper hand — her husband wrapped around your finger or your cunt in a literal sense.

You imagined her initiating sex with her husband once he reached home, only to be refused while Andy made some excuse about being tired. Likewise, you saw her attempt to mend her failing marriage with her husband when she brought lunch for him at work. Of course, all of their conversations ended up in a fight, and Andy in between your legs. You weren’t supposed to listen during her visits, but the thought of her pursuing your man made you terrified. So, you listened in and interrupted whenever you felt she was getting through to Andy. And she would leave after signing in defeat.

“Fuck, honey, your mouth feels so good around me,” Andy whispered, his hand wrapped around your hair, holding it together while guiding your mouth around his length.

Andy’s free hand impacted your cheek — lightly, then swiftly and then faintly again. “Look at you, taking your boss’s cock like a whore. Anyone could walk in my office and see you on your knees, but you still wouldn't stop, would you?”

Not being able to say anything, you shook your head ‘no’ around his member and he hummed in satisfaction with your answer. His lewd words with the impact play on your cheek made a damp spot form on your panties. You couldn't stop your wandering hands from reaching for your covered cunt in search of your own relief. 

That earned you a harsh slap, Andy took your hair tightly in his grasp and shoved his whole length inside you. You choked and tried to pull away, but he held you there while you tried to breathe evenly through your nose. “Keep your hands behind where I can see them if you don’t wanna be punished. You don’t get to come without permission.”

Having received his punishment before, instantly you obliged to his order. During your time working under Andy, you learned a lot of stuff about how to handle cases and clients, but more importantly, you learned not to disobey Andy because that only leads to you begging him for mercy.

After loosening his grip on your hair, Andy soothingly ran his knuckles on your cheek to wipe off the tears streaming down your face.

With a groan, Andy came on your face and like the obedient girl you were, you stuck out your tongue to take in as much of his release as you could. 

“Good girl,” he patted your cheek thrice, “Clean this mess up and get back to work.”

You did as he asked, you always did what he asked without any question because you loved him, and you knew he loved you too. He hadn’t voiced his love out loud to you, but you knew he did — with the way he would spank you thrice or look you in the eyes as he released his seed inside you, tainting you as his with his come — you knew he loved you.

No man could ever make you feel the way Andy did. He had that power over you, and you handed him your submission on a silver platter. And Andy reveled in that power so much that he abused it for his pleasure.

“Give me the Rogers file now,” Andy demanded when he came to the office the next day. 

He looked tense, and you knew what to do to lighten his mood — you always did. The way to a man’s heart is a woman on her knees — taking his cock in her mouth.

“No, stop,” he said as you were getting on your knees in front of his chair. You were perplexed. Did he want to make love to you instead? Were you doing something wrong?

“Just leave the file on my desk,” he ordered, “And cancel my next appointment. I’ll be leaving for home early today.”

Home. He still called the house with Laurie his home. You wanted to yell at him that that house — Laurie — wasn't his home, you were. Maybe he called it his home because of his son, Jacob. Jacob was 18 and in college now. 

Two years ago, when his son was 16, you told Andy you couldn't do this if there was no future. Andy promised to leave his wife as soon as Jacob was out of the house, so he could be with you. It had been almost a month since Jacob moved to his college dorm, yet Andy had not made any effort or even mentioned a divorce in the foreseeable future.

 Maybe he just needed more time, you consoled yourself. You understood how the divorce process takes time. And it wouldn’t be wise of him to get with a younger woman right after divorcing his wife.

As Andy’s assistant, your job contained going through his calendar every day before leaving work. It was to make sure that it gave him some break between different client's appointments. You were doing your job until you noticed a reminder — Couples therapy at 6 which was followed by a dinner reservation. He was going to therapy with Laurie? Wasn't he supposed to divorce her? Is that why he left early?

You were mad, no, you were furious. You had waited two years for him to divorce her. Two years and now he was trying to fix his marriage? What about all the promises he made to you? 

Without giving another thought, you made your way to the restaurant where he was supposed to have dinner with his wife. Andy and Laurie were already there, you could smell his perfume before you even walked in. 

Laurie spotted you and recognized you instantly. Fuck, this was a bad idea.

You tried to avoid her gaze, but she waved at you and called your name. You didn’t even look at Andy when you pretended you didn't see them there — as if you didn't come here for him. Laurie brought your lie, and you could feel Andy staring at you but you ignored him. You knew you would melt the moment you saw those ocean blue eyes.

Laurie insisted you to sit with them and begrudgingly, you accepted. Dinner was awkward. You tried to focus on Laurie, who was telling you incidents about Jacob as a kid, while you were sure Andy was throwing daggers at you with his look. Again, you avoided his eyes. 

His wife wasn’t a bad person, you realized. Hell, she was a better person than you, and you felt guilty about sleeping with her husband and plotting with her husband for him to leave her.

Sometime during the dinner, Laurie excused herself to take a work call, leaving you alone at the table with Andy.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Andy seethed, his nose flaring with the anger he was feeling.

“You told me you were leaving her!” you raised your voice, your emotions were getting the best of you. You thought you had a future with him — you wanted to build a home — a future with him.

“What? Did you think that I was really going to leave my wife for the first woman who opens her legs for me?” He took your wrists from under the table and held them tightly, punishing you for raising your voice at him. He hated when you defied him, and he disciplined you accordingly and for most parts, you were in line, but this called for some fucking disobedience.

 You pulled your hand from under his hold and examined your wrists to find bruises already forming. 

“Fuck you!” you yelled before taking the glass of wine in your hand and splashing it across his face. “I quit.”

Without explaining to Laurie, you left the restaurant to collect your stuff from work.

 The next day, you mailed your resignation to Andy and blackmailed him into giving you a well-worded letter of recommendation. He obliged because if the press found out that a married man was sleeping with his much younger employee, it would wreck his reputation. He even paid you hush money to delete all the inappropriate things he had texted you.

Not only that, but he didn’t completely leave you, he was unshakable like a wine-stained white dress. You couldn’t throw it out, but you couldn't get rid of the stain either.

You were still aware of his schedule, and every once in a while you would end up daydreaming about him or where he must be.

Furthermore, you just couldn’t get him out of your system. Maybe that's why you found yourself on your knees again while Andy held your head and pumped his cock inside your mouth like a parasite latched onto its host.

“I knew you would come back, you filthy whore,” he gasped as you took more of him in. 

No, he wasn’t just a parasite. A parasite eventually leaves its host in pursuit of another. He was a parasitoid.

The parasitoid feeds off its host until there is nothing left to offer, and that is precisely what Andy planned on doing to you.

[fbfh]

Curiosity is a Wonderful Thing - ch. 13

wc: 5.4k

genre: political thriller (ish), slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: slowburn ben x reader, mal x ben, homoerotic tension between mal and evie

warnings: mentions of back alley cosmetic procedures, questionable needles (for botox not drugs), detailed descriptions of emotional flashbacks, themes of c-ptsd, mentions of emotional abuse and child neglect, falling into old dynamics, two mentions of p*rging, implied Evie has a mild eating disorder/p*rges off camera, Evie uses needles to give herself liposuction off camera (don't do that), Mal tried to p*rge once (don't do that), Evie has body dysmorphia, mother on daughter body shaming, Evil Queen is very narcissistic and emotionally abusive, toxic and unhealthy body image from a young age from mom, one mention of EQ not caring when Evie got seriously sick once, Maleficent dragged Mal by the hair once, reader is slowly becoming unhinged

this chapter contains some scenes with ED behaviors, emotional abuse, and body dysmorphia. please be careful and don't read if this will trigger you. I love you, stay safe starshine<3

!!LINK TO THE EDITED, ED FREE VERSION WILL BE HERE!!

summary: much like king arthur, you meet with a lady in a lake. Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos get a "fun surprise" that's more of a slap to the face, Evie gets the worst of it. Mal decides to stress bake. There's a confrontation in the kitchen.

song recs: twisted - aviva, runs in the family - amanda palmer, thick skull - paramore, trigger - hayley williams, mad hatter - melanie martinez

a/n: shout out to my psychiatrist for bumping up my adhd meds!!!! love you kim!!!!!! literally wrote this in one sitting and I could not be happier. also surprised myself w this one a little lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777 @pain-in-the-ashe

When acquiring a particularly interesting piece of information, especially when it is in one's best interest to keep the source of said information confidential, it isn't uncommon to use the phrase, “a little birdy told me”. Most find this to be nothing more than a twisting turn of phrase, unless that someone would happen to be from Wonderland. Wonderlandians, you see, have quite a way with words - especially those which come from birds. When one has heard a word from birds, that's a sure sign that time is of the essence. It was birds that saved Snow White's life, rushing through the forest to warn the dwarves, as well as many other less popularized accounts of such heroism and quick witted messenging. 

All this is to say, if a little birdy tells you something, it’s in your best interest to believe them. 

The bird before you in this instance, is a rather frantic little chickadee. She swooped down to find you, losing a few feathers in the process. “Miss Liddell! Miss Liddell!” She cries, fluttering over to you, worked up into quite the tizzy. “Oh dear, Miss Liddell-”

She chirps and sputters, trying to gather her scrambled thoughts. 

“What is it?” You ask, brow furrowing as you lean in to listen.

“Oh Miss Liddell, it’s about Ben.”

Those three words caught your attention firmly, like a dodo in the jaws of a bandersnatch. 

“What about Ben?” You ask, voice growing lower and more urgent. 

“She- she’s down at the lake, you must go see her!” 

“See who?” You implore, trying to understand the bits and pieces falling frantically from her beak. 

“There’s just no time! Come quickly!”

You scurry across the school grounds for several minutes before plunging into the forest. You pause, calling up to her. “Ms. Chickadee!”

She flutters back over. 

“What, what? We have to go!”

You remember suddenly that you can get there much more quickly with a rabbit hole. Once you’ve explained this to her, she nods frantically. After a quick slip into Wonderland, you pop right back out on the shore of the enchanted lake. In your haste, you nearly tumble right into the lake.

“Oh- goodness!” You exclaim, scrambling back onto the shore. Your skirt is damp and muddy, as are your hands. But you pay no mind to that, nor the snags now torn into your stockings. Your breath heaves the chilly evening air as clouds roll in, making the skies seem even darker, and you look around frantically. You’re unsure what you’re even looking for, but you trust the brave Chickadee who delivered your message. 

There’s a trilling noise above you, and you look up to find Ms. Chickadee in the flesh - or rather, in the feathers - as she lands on a nearby branch. Her little body heaves as she catches her breath, and she chirps out another trilling note. A moment later, the water of the lake ripples, beginning to rise as a fluid figure emerges.  

Your eyes widen as a Naiad takes shape before you. Her hair is curly at the bottom, and carefully braided and wrapped in little sections, like the graceful rivulets of a waterfall as it cascades down her back and shoulders, blending back into the lake where they meet. 

“Oh…” you begin, intrigued and curious. You crouch down to speak to her so as not to loom over her intimidatingly. Looming intimidation, you feel, is something that should be used sparingly, and not when one is being gifted with help, or valuable information. 

“Hello.”

She looks right back at you with an equal - if not more nervous sort of intrigue. She waves. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” You say, bowing your head and gripping your muddy skirt hem to curtsy as much as you’re able to in your crouched position. “I didn’t know there were any naiads at the Enchanted Lake, or surely our paths would have crossed sooner.”

“There aren’t. Not usually.” She says in a soothing tone as her words flow from her lips. “I’m a bit of a shy duck. I like being somewhere that I won’t be disturbed, where I can keep to myself.”

“Naturally.” You nod, sensing her relax slightly at your understanding. She moves closer, leaning in to speak more freely, lowering her voice into an urgent whisper. 

“Well, I can feel it when somebody uses the lake’s magic.” She begins, the water around her rippling more quickly as she begins to get worked up at what she saw. “When Prince Ben and that- that purple fairy were here… something strange happened.”

The realization strikes you that this naiad could know exactly what happened to Ben, what Mal did to him. You lean closer, as does she, seafoam bubbling up around her edges as she stretches out to you. 

“It felt like- like mind control.” She says in a babbling whisper. “When Prince Ben submerged himself in the lake, it…”

She shakes her head, staring at nowhere in particular at the memory. 

“I’ve never felt anything like it. Not in all my years in the lake. I- there was a moment I feared the lake wouldn’t be able to break it.” She says, voice trembling as her eyes brim with tears. They spill, but she nods her head quickly. 

“But it did.”

The relief that strikes you in that moment is positively unmatched by anything else you think you’ve ever felt. Hope finally seems tangible, a solution, a resolution glowing as a pinprick of light in the distance of this suffocatingly dark tunnel of misfortune Mal has carved your way into. 

“But then… there was something else.”

Just like that, the flame of hope you were so desperately tending to flickers. 

“That purple fairy… she made a wish.” She begins. Dread and relief war within you. “And stranger still-”

She leans in even closer, stretching up to meet you as you stretch down, trying not to fall right into her lake. Cool water mists onto your skin as she speaks in an anxious whisper. 

“It was granted.”

Your stomach sinks like an anchor into the wet, wet mud of an unfamiliar shore. 

“I can’t say what it is she wished for-”

“Naturally.” You nod, agreeing. It is never the right of another to say what someone else wished for. Speculation is one thing, but knowing is another. 

“But…” she hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’s trying to say. “Her own conflicted heart will be her downfall. It’s very likely that she will break the conditions of her wish all on her own.”

Like the cooling gel of an ‘ello-vera plant after much time spent bathed in moonlight, a tentative sort of relief washes through you, soothing the frayed ends of your nerves. It’s not exactly what you wanted to hear, but like your mother always says, beggars can’t be choosers, and choosers can’t be indecisive. This is a much better piece of information than it could have been, and you nod gratefully as she continues.

“Her wish, despite everything, is only a temporary benefit to her, I suspect. Don’t preoccupy yourself with that over everything else, it cannot possibly last very long at all. When put to the test, she will not be ready to succeed.” She says urgently. “Don’t lose sight of your goal - see the rivers for the ocean.”

Her words seem to sear themselves into your mind and heart. You let out a soft, determined breath. 

“I can’t begin to thank you enough for this,” you say in a low, intent voice. “Please, tell me if there’s anything you should need in return.” You promise, standing up. 

The naiad nods anxiously, and looks around.

“Good luck!” She says quietly before disappearing back into the depths of the lake, leaving only a swirling current and bouncing ripples in her wake. 

Her words echo in your mind as you stand up, not caring one bit for the mud and water on your clothes. See the rivers for the ocean. See the trees for the forest. That’s something you can certainly do. 

A video call from your parents when you’re away at boarding school should be a good thing. A chance to douse the flames of homesickness that have no doubt been burning away within you for as long as you’ve been away. But in truth, it depends on who your parents are, and how you feel toward each other. In Mal’s case, the answer to both is bad. Both literally, and figuratively. This callous truth also applies to Evie, Carlos, and Jay, a knowledge and camaraderie they share as they sit anxiously at their desks in the Remedial Goodness classroom on a Saturday. 

“Now, as you know,” Fairy Godmother begins, addressing the students with a warm, anticipatory smile. “Sunday is family day here at Auradon Prep. And because your parents can’t be here due to- uh,” she sputters, looking for the most gentle way to say locked up on an island, as if the four of them weren’t raised in the prison built from their parents’ sins.

“Distance,” she decides. “We’ve arranged for a special treat.”

Their stomachs collectively sink as a large screen is rolled out in front of the blackboard, twisting with a sickening feeling. Evie’s breathing immediately picks up, and she finds herself fussing with her hair and nails, tugging at her clothes and trying to apply a little more lip gloss without anyone noticing. She drags a finger under her lower lashline, knowing she gets a little mascara fall out around this time of day. 

Carlos places Dude on the ground, his heart breaking for the dog as he nudges him away as gently as he can with his foot until Dude gets the message, scurrying off and watching him sadly. Jay is already shrugging off his tourney hoodie and wiping the smile off his face, waiting with a stoic scowl and crossing his arms defensively in a way that hides the shake in his hands. 

“I don’t see anything… nor do I hear-” 

The sound of her mother’s voice drains all the blood from Mal’s face in a way that no amount of blush could disguise. She rubs at her lips with the back of her hand, taking off the strawberry flavored lip gloss Evie had managed to persuade her to wear that morning. She’d been so excited about it, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about the whole strawberries thing… you’ll have to tell me if this tastes the same! Her brilliant Evie had managed to find strawberry flavored cosmetics, just because Mal couldn’t stop talking about how delicious they were. 

She rubs at her eyes, smudging the light makeup Evie had taught her how to do, feeling a sinking sense of grief as she ruins it. This was the first time she did it by herself - well, the first time Evie only had to hold her hand a little bit - and she makes a mental note to apologize to Evie for ruining their work later. Armed with chapped lips and dark rings smudged around her eyes, she strategically scratches at her scalp, hoping her hair looks damaged and unkempt, just like it always is. Was. Like it should be. 

She doesn’t need to look at her friends to know they’re all feeling exactly the same thing. Evie flips over her papers, hiding the A- grade she’d received yesterday and been beaming about ever since. Carlos guiltily rips off a bit of his breakfast bar and tosses it out of view, wordlessly trying to apologize to Dude for shoving him away so suddenly. 

Jay shoves his beloved Fighting Knights team hoodie that he’s been wearing with love for days onto the cold floor by his feet, silently praying it doesn’t get covered in mud from his cleats. The soft fleece and vibrant team logos woven together with a sense of camaraderie and belonging are replaced with his signature sink or swim, no team in I scowl, the one he picked up by copying his father’s face when he looked at Jay. 

There’s more discoordinant bickering that seems to suck all the goodness out of the room, no matter how remedial it is. Even Fairy Godmother seems tense. Finally, the image of their parents loads more clearly as their end of the video call finishes connecting. 

“Evie, it’s mommy!” Comes the condescending sing-song voice of the Evil Queen. Her under eyes are slightly swollen, Evie notices. She definitely got more back alley botox. And another CC of lip fillers, by the looks of it. She’s going to get a nasty rash from using dirty needles, just like she always does. All in the pursuit of beauty, she would tell Evie while making her daughter cover her itching, inflamed skin with expired psoriasis cream. 

“Oh, look how beautiful,” Evil Queen coos, and Evie plasters on the same smile her mother made her spend two hours a day practicing. “Just like your mother. She gets it all from me.”

Evil Queen turns between the other parents and Fairy Godmother, speaking to no one in particular as she continues.

“You know, they say having a daughter just sucks all the beauty right out of you. I’m sure they do, in most cases,” she says, looking between Maleficent and Fairy Godmother. “But with me, oh, I just sucked all that beauty right back.”

She lets out a stiff laugh, smiling as much as she can with all those frozen, swollen muscles in her face. 

“Evie looks just like me when I was her age. I mean, I didn’t have that little potbelly, and I actually wore lip liner instead of god knows what that is…” She murmurs, glancing at Evie’s mouth. “But, you know what they say, the poison apple doesn’t fall far from the heirloom tree…” 

Evil Queen leans closer, looking in the bottom corner of the screen, clearly looking at herself and paying no mind to anything else. 

The knots in their stomachs get bigger and bigger, harder to sit with as they watch their parents waste away half their sparse video call time jabbing at Fairy Godmother instead of talking to their children. Mal risks a glance at Evie, only seeing the blue hair she’s fussing with as she looks away from the group. Evie didn’t even get a hello. She was just used to prop up a mirror for her mother to obsess over and preen herself in, just like always. 

Fairy Godmother isn’t immune to their nasty ways either, growing increasingly distracted and impatient with their jeers and jabs, totally unaware of the pain on the children's faces behind her. The sky outside dims drastically for a moment as a bank of clouds pass by, blocking out the sun. The world feels dark and cold and small again, suffocating in that moment of chilling darkness. 

“Mal…” 

She tenses at her mother’s saccharine, deceptively sweet sing-song voice. “When can we see you again?” 

Her expression and words are tense, but their true meaning is clear. Have you gotten that damned wand yet? 

“Uh- there’s a coronation in two days,” Mal says in a low voice, trying to sound relaxed, looking at  her mother’s nose instead of trying to look at her eyes. “So probably after that.”

Maleficent hums, but it sounds more like a growl to Mal. 

“Well,” She starts tensely, the disapproval and growing impatience clear, “Let’s see if you can make that sooner.”

Mal flinches at her mother’s tone, looking away from the screen, but Maleficent doesn’t notice. The four parents descend into more arguing, starting to use language that causes Fairy Godmother to shut off the screen abruptly in fear of someone overhearing their profane, cruel words. 

The silence that follows is crushingly heavy, bruising their muscles and straining their spines from the sheer weight of it. 

“...I am so sorry-” 

Fairy Godmother’s words are sincere, which makes them even more difficult to hear. “It’s fine.” Mal says in a quiet voice, not having the energy to be snippy even when cutting her off. “Really.”

“We’re used to it.” Carlos supplies in a hollow voice.

Unable to stand being in this goddamn room any longer, Mal moves to leave. Everyone else quickly follows her, just as desperate to get out, but waiting for her cue. The door slams shut behind them as Mal marches back to their dorms. The air is thick, and their chests feel painfully tight. Invisible hands seem to wrap around their necks, choking them tighter and tighter, pushing harder against their stomachs as more heavy silence envelops them. 

Arriving back in Mal and Evie’s dorm, Evie immediately sits down at her vanity, pulling out her tweezers to obsessively remove facial hair that isn’t there. Carlos curls up on the floor in front of Mal’s bed, and Jay stands in front of the closed door, arms crossed. Mal paces, picking at her chipping polish. Jay’s stomach twists as he builds up the courage to speak. His words are quiet - quiet for him, at least - but they still feel loud. He knows they’d feel loud no matter what.

“So… what’s our next move?”

He feels like he shouldn’t even be asking, but he has to. Someone has to. They all need to know what the fuck they’re supposed to do next. Mal slows her pacing, trembling under the crushing weight of guilt and self blame, the hatred of herself for letting herself start to get comfortable, for even considering leaning into this cushy, sugary, strawberry flavored life. Her shoulders are so tense she almost feels lightheaded. She can feel a headache coming on. 

There’s a fraction of a moment before she answers. She hates this, hates being the one in charge. She hates being the only thing standing between her friends- between Evie and Jay and Carlos, and abject misery. She hates bearing the weight of holding back everything worse they’re trying to avoid. It’s aging her, she thinks. Or it would be if fairies aged like humans. She’s sure she’d have gray hair, aches in her joints, a tremor when she walks. She hates this feeling, and whenever it comes, she knows how Atlas feels, crushing yourself under the weight of the sky to try and stop the people behind you from suffocating faster. 

“We pull our heads out of our asses.” 

She tries to sound sharp, intimidating, but it doesn’t quiet land. She sounds afraid. 

“We wake the hell up, and we do what we fucking came here to do.”

Her words are like the click of prison shackles, tightening on their wrists and ankles as they march toward a seaside cliff of inevitable doom. That’s not the answer that any of them wanted.

It’s later that night, so late that even Carlos has fallen asleep. Evie was up later than Mal had thought. She was sure she knew what Evie was doing in the bathroom for so long, but didn’t have the heart to try and stop her. What could she even say? My mom is right, but yours is totally lying? Mal slips out of bed and walks quietly into the bathroom. 

A box of baking soda sits on the counter, mirrors propped up for a 360 view, rubbing alcohol… Mal’s throat tightens as she inspects the damage. The air smells like rubbing alcohol, and vomit disguised with the smell of fake floral room spray. Daring to look at the sink, she sees it. Smudges of blood, sprinkled with grainy yellow lumps. She swallows thickly. 

It’s not the first time Evie’s tried to give herself lipo. She mentioned once when it was late at night and they were both feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable that she’d been four when her mother first showed her how to jab under her skin with a needle and suck out the fat. She’d nearly gone septic in the sixth grade when she forgot to clean the needle properly. 

When she was finally well enough to come home from the shitty excuse of a public clinic on the Isle, the only thing her mother did was pinch her waist and stomach and arms. Well, at least some good came out of your carelessness. There’s still quite a ways to go, obviously. It’s a miracle she’s still alive, Mal thinks. It’s a miracle any of them are, much less all of them. 

There was one time years and years ago when her mother caught Mal trying to purge like Evie had shown her how to do. Her mother just pulled her up by the hair and dragged her out of the bathroom, raving about how she shouldn’t waste her energy on something as foolish and trivial as that, she should be working on a way to get them off this godforsaken rock. Mal wasn’t sure how an 11 year old could do anything to get them off the Isle, but once she was locked in her room for a time out, once she’d beaten and kicked her threadbare pillows until she wore herself out, she started brainstorming, scribbling down fruitless ideas by the embers of her shame. 

She shakes her head, trying to dispel the unpleasant memories. She exits the bathroom and walks over to Evie’s bed. She looks pale. Mal lifts up the blankets, just a little, and nudges up Evie’s shirt. Her stomach has a few bandaids on it, but some of them have fallen off, leaving little red pin pricks in their wake. Her heart sinks slowly, pulling the blankets back up, knowing Evie went to bed dizzy and cold and hungry. She should get Evie something to drink. Maybe some juice or something, maybe one of those sports drinks Jay has after tourney practice. 

She grabs her spellbook and sneaks down into the kitchens. She digs around a little, finding a bottle of sugar free apple juice, and a bottle of blue ischyros-ade. There’s a sponsored photo of Hercules on the front, with some dumb slogan and black and white Greecian designs. She flips through her spellbook, knowing she should be practicing more than she has been, and finds a simple transportation spell. She sets the drinks down, focusing as she tries to cast the spell, tracing her hands around the bottles. 

“Destination, free of fare, move these- uh, bottles, from here to there.”

The tendrils of smoke that had been building dispel, with the fizzling pop of failed magic. She lets out a frustrated sigh and tries again. 

 “Destination, free of fare, move these bottles from here to there.”

It almost works this time, there’s more smoke and a building feeling of anticipation, but it still fizzles out at the last moment. She’s about to give up and just march back up to her dorm herself, but she hesitates. She thinks about Evie, seeing her in her mind’s eye. Her heart aches, crying to reach out and hold her, to comfort her best friend, to kiss her and tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

“...Destination, free of fare, bring these bottles from here to there.” 

The words flow more freely this time, not feeling as forced. There’s a rush of blood to her head, and when she looks back down… they’re gone. She smirks to herself. Of course the one time she nails a spell is because she’s worried about Evie. 

She starts to close her book, but something falls out. 

An index card in her scratchy writing, detailing a… cookie recipe. Oh god, Ben. She totally forgot about him. She’s been so preoccupied with keeping an eye on Jay and Carlos, and worrying about Evie that she… forgot Ben existed, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t have a choice. She’s going to have to enable her mother to bring on a new age of darkness and evil, and… Ben is going to think he’s in love with her the whole time. 

She thinks that if she were able to feel any worse than she did, she would now. But she’s just… maxed out. She doesn’t have any guilt of self hate or fear left for Ben. But she knows that keeping him under her control is… it’s just a step too far. Mal swallows thickly, then grabs a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. There’s a recipe on the back for something called s’mores, and another recipe next to that. Trollhouse mini chocolate chip cupcakes. 

She fumbles around the kitchen, clumsily throwing open cabinets and rifling through them, dropping ingredients halfheartedly onto the stainless steel countertops. Her mind is a blur as she mixes them together. She doesn’t notice that she forgot to add the cinnamon, or that a few bits of eggshell ended up in the lumpy batter. She just can’t bring herself to care. 

Waiting for them to finish baking is the worst part. She shoves everything back in the cupboards even though they’re not in the right place, and she takes a towel and gets it wet, squirting a generous amount of dish soap on it. She wipes down the counter as soap bubbles fill the air, the green viscous liquid dripping off the edge of the counter and splatting on the floor. 

The chemical smell of fake apples and soap fill her senses, and she throws the sudsy towel in a basket for towels that need to be laundered. She takes another towel and wipes off the suds, leaving behind a sticky, chemical residue as she throws that one in the hamper too. She’s startled from her dazed attempt at cleaning to keep her hands and mind busy when the little egg timer buzzes. 

She pulls out the mini muffin tray and sets it on the counter, nearly burning herself in the process. The acrid scent of scorched chemical dish soap wafts up and mixes with the sweet, fudgy smell of the cupcakes. She looks through the tray at the unfrosted, gooey chocolate baked goods before her, and picks one of them up. She dumps the rest in the trash and drops the tray by the sink. 

Stretching up to grab a spoon and can of chocolate frosting, she sees a figure standing there where there hadn’t been just the moment before. She nearly jumps out of her fucking skin, seeing you there looking like you clawed your way out of a grave. 

Your striped tights are snagged and torn, you’re smudged with mud and dirt, there’s a twig or something tangled in your hair. Your makeup is smudged too, making you look… almost frightening. Without hesitation, you step forward as the last parts of the tile floor close themselves up behind you. You’re looking at her with a surprising intensity, eyes locked on her like a predator hunting down its prey. She starts to say something, but you don’t care, wasting no time as you ensure she can’t run out the door past you - not that she would, you don’t think. It’s merely a strategic precaution. 

“Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Your voice is lower than usual, sharper and rougher and serious. You speak quickly and sharply, like your tongue itself is a vorpal blade that you’re all too comfortable wielding. Mal tries to answer, but you cut her off before she can. 

“Because I find it hard to believe that anyone could be so stupidly foolish.” You spit, taking a step forward. 

“I’m sure you’d love to know the outs and ins of what I know, but that is not a pleasure you’ll have the fortune of crossing paths with as of yet.” You say quickly, cutting straight to the point. “If you value the lives and wellbeing of your friends, or more likely, your own self serving preservation, if you don’t crave a miserable lifetime in a dungeon so deep you’ll never hope to see the sun or breath clean air again, if you don’t wish to resign yourself to a life worse than death, worse than even you could imagine…”

You lower your voice further, and when you speak, Mal feels like she’s been stung. 

“You will not breathe a word of what you’ve done. Not to anybody.” 

Mal’s stomach drops. She swallows thickly, trying not to let you see how thrown off by you she is. You haven’t said what you know, which means you probably know nothing. This is just some cheap attempt to shake her down for information because you’re worried about Ben or something. It’s the only thing that makes sense, but it sounds flimsy even to her. 

“Not only is tampering with the free will of others an unforgivable crime,” You continue, even more intense than before. You’re gripping onto your self control with white knuckles, desperately trying not to give into the madness you’re barely restraining. 

A cold sweat breaks out across Mal’s skin. Tampering with free will… you do know. Somehow you know what she did, what she did to Ben. 

“But you’ve chosen for reasons way beyond my understanding or interest to commit the most egregious act of treason I have ever heard tell of.” You say sharply in a low voice, like the information strategically parting from your lips is only and exclusively for you and her. 

“I’m sure you can’t possibly grasp the ramifications of what you’ve done- if you could you would have turned back long before now.” You say, a note of warning in your voice. “But now it is my duty to prevent your infectious actions from metastasizing further than they already have. It breaks my heart that you would damn so many innocent people who have suffered like you have just for-”

A chilling, dry laugh leaves your throat. 

“I don’t know why, really. Nor am I bothered to care. Not when there is this much damage to be controlled.”

You take yet another step closer. Not close enough to touch each other, but uncomfortably so. 

“You are to keep your head down.” You hiss, “You are to cease any and all further attempts to interfere with the crown, or the mess that you’ve created. And above all else, you are to do nothing to raise any suspicion.”

You’re not threatening her, she realizes. You’re warning her. 

“If you intend for even a moment to step a toe out of the parameters which I have given you, I will assure you the consequences will come faster than you could possibly run from them.”

You sound so sure. You’re so quiet and calm, like you’re just… telling her the facts. You’re not trying to scare her with bluster and intimidation tactics - that she could handle. That she’s used to. But this… she’s never seen this from anyone. Realizing how cornered she is, she swallows thickly, looking around and trying to seem nonchalant, desperately looking for any way to deflect your accusations. Your preternaturally in tune perception of the situation. 

“Look, you’re crazy if you-”

“Oh. Of course.”

You cut her off with a raw, honest stare. She sees something deep inside you, an unstable glint you’ve never let this far out. It’s like you’re finally loosening reins on a creature you’ve always had well trained and under your command. 

“Mad as a fucking hatter.” You say in a joltingly light, casual tone. “The best people are.”

Before she can blink, she’s hit with the smell of dirt. The floor below you cracks, crumbling away into nothing. You drop fearlessly down into the dark maw of the earth, keeping your gaze on her the whole time. In the same breath, the floor closes back up without leaving so much as a trace. 

Finally alone again - at least, she thinks so - she grips the counter tightly, hoping the cool metal will soothe her shaking hands. Her heart is pounding, like it’s trying to break out of her chest. Alice is just some person, some random girl who fell down the wrong hole in the ground. You’re her daughter, so you shouldn’t… how the fuck did you do that?! 

There are rumors about Wonderland, of course. Whispers about the depths of madness that hide behind whimsy and eccentricity and nonsense. For the first time, Mal understands what those whispers are really talking about.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Saving Rosie

Part One of Two: “I’m Not A Spy.”

Rosie Betzer x Reader

Words: 5,768

Warnings: WWII (and everything that comes with that era), Nazis, spy shit, arguing, alludes to execution, sadness... I think that may be it.

Request: No.

Summary: You save the woman you have grown close to over the past few years you have been undercover as a Nazi general, and now you’re going to save her family.

A/N: Me, still broken after watching Jojo Rabbit almost a year and a half ago?? It’s more likely than you think... so, apparently I write Rosie Beltzer fics now lol

Also, just some lil notes. The reader in this is undercover as a male Nazi general, and they’re not actually German in this fic.

EDIT: I accidentally tagged this as a Natasha fic lmao. I fixed it now tho.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not My GIF)

***

"It's a lovely night for it, huh?"

For what? You weren't 

certain. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe, it was the clear sky. The deserted streets, perhaps... what loomed in the following days to come.

Or maybe, just maybe. It was the woman by your side.

The woman hummed, a small sweet smile caressing her face.

"One of the better ones we've had in years. Came her strong German accent. A stark difference to yours, considering you no longer had to mask it. Around her, anyway.

Your smile mirrored hers as it brightened.

"It sure is."

"I can't believe it's almost over. And after so long..." she said, while you grunted, sitting down beside her on the small roof over the open attic window. "This unjust war is finally coming to an end."

"Okay, you're starting to sound like my commander now."

Rosie chuckled at your words, moving to softly lean into your side, keeping her head up to continue looking at the bright white stars that littered the midnight blue sky.

"Why do you always insist on meeting up here?" you grumbled, no malice in your voice, "It's a pain in the ass to get up onto the roof, from the outside, y'know?"

"You're a spy, aren't you? Aren't you supposed to be good at this stuff?"

"Oh cheeky," you laughed, lightly slapping the side of her leg, with the back of your hand. Rosie's quiet giggles following your remark, "And I'm an undercover soldier. Those are two very different things."

"Still." She shrugged.

You sat in silence for a small while. Over the few years, you and Rosie had grown close. Meeting up on her rooftop, at the dead of night, where there was no chance of anyone seeing you together, this way, becoming an almost every day occurrence.

You knew you could trust her the moment you first met, almost three years ago. After you had stolen the identity of a Nazi officer, that looked starkly like you. Luckily, there was hardly any information about this person. So, there was less chance for your cover to be blown.

Soon, the resistance that Rosie had been deeply a part of was un-earthed to you, thanks to your informant and the letter she carried. It wasn't long after that you started working with them too. Helping them better than they could ever hope, thanks to the military resources and information you brought.

"What happened to your neck?" Rosie asked, pulling you out from where you were, deep in your memories.

A hand came up to rub at your slightly sore skin.

"My informant can be cruel..."

Rosie cocked a blonde eyebrow at you, wanting an explanation from you.

You sighed, getting ready to tell her.

***

Eyes burned into the woman from all sides as her heels kicked against the polished wooden, yet stained, floor. Her light brown hair shone under the glowing lights, confidence radiating from her just the same.

"Can I help you?" a German Soldier slid in front of her, she had to stop herself from sneering at the man. For both his being a Nazi and his sweaty stench. But instead, she managed a sultry smirk.

"I'm here to see your General," she replied, in a German accent.

"Don't bother," another Soldier, this one drunk and slightly swaying, called over, from where he was pressed into the wall a few feet behind her.

"I don't think your General would take too kindly to you stealing what they paid for."

"They're gonna have fun with you," he replied, blatantly looking her up and down. Like a wolf would, to a tiny bunny, ready to devour it whole. However, the wolf was not a wolf at all, the wolf was, in fact, the bunny, and the bunny was the actual wolf.

She would tear him to shreds, given the chance.

"The General is in the usual room," the original man said, "Fair warning, though. They're not in a good mood today."

The woman began strutting down the hallway, once again. Throwing, "Aren't they always?" over her shoulder once she passed him by.

When she opened the thick wooden door you resided behind, the sounds of your continued groan began pouring through the crack.

"Sometimes I cannot believe that you got this assignment," she uttered in her original London accent, with her back pressed against the now-closed door.

You finished your groan off and took a deep breath before you uttered your reply.

"Luck-of-the-draw, I guess," you spoke from the floor where you lay on your back, with a shrug, "That, or I look strikingly alike the guy who died. The Nazi prick."

She walked over to you, one foot rising to press her heel into your neck, your thyroid resting in the open space of the shoe.

A choking noise sprang from your mouth as you flailed your limbs around gently. You knew that if she were to press any harder, she would surely manage to choke you.

"You're not suited for this job."

The brunette pressed harder against your throat before she released you. Leaving you to turn on your side, coughing and spluttering.

"Well, no shit. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"You can tell."

"What was that all about?" You motioned to your neck. Red marks already making their way upon the tender flesh.

"We need to make it seem like we are having sex. Remember? I am supposed to be your hooker after all."

"You're a bitch, is what you are."

She scowled at you as you rolled yourself onto your stomach, sighing when you finally got to your feet.

"Where's the update?"

You hummed, almost as if you were remembering what you were here to do. Removing the crystal tumbler from your lips the whisky sloshing around inside. Reaching behind you, you pulled the file from where it was tucked into your pants and under your shirt. Handing it over to her.

"Is this it?" She asked, weighing the file in her hand, "It's very light."

"Yeah, and so's the information swimming around. Unless you wanna hear about the fish Agatha caught last weekend," you snarked back, moving to point at the file with the same hand that held your glass, "There's some good stuff in there. It's not much. But it's good."

"I'll take your word for it."

She tucked the folder into the long overcoat she wore, then you saw her eyebrows furrow.

"Aren't you supposed to take care of that?" She nodded towards the uniform jacket you had thrown across the room not long after you had entered it.

"You sneered at the fore-talked about item.

"I hate it and everything it stands for." You turned back to face her. "As soon as all of this bullshit is over, I'm burning that fucking armband. And then the rest of the fucking uniform."

"Real calm there, aren't you?"

"Don't start shit with me, Hannah." You took a large swig of your drink, almost emptying the glass. "I know that you wish you had somehow gotten this mission. But trust me, you don't fucking want it. The shit I've seen and done. The stuff that I've had to authorise, just to keep my cover. The fucking horror storied these monsters have told proudly, or as if they're fucking jokes." You were panting now. "You don't want that."

You had her startled into silence. Hannah had never expected this to come from you.

"How's the resistance?"

You grunted. Downing the rest of the brown liquor before moving to pour yourself another glass three fingers tall.

"It's going." you gave a heavy nod. "Still trying to spread the word."

Hannah hummed, slowly making her way towards you. Fingers coming up to razzle her hair, and wipe her lipstick, so it smudged onto her cheek.

"How's the blonde?"

"What-?" you were cut off when she wiped the red lipstick on her fingers across your own lips, leaving a smudge like hers there. "Ugh," you groaned, moving away from her palm, only to utter small obscenities and sounds of pain when her lipstick freehand messed up your short, slicked-back hair.

"What blonde?" you finally managed to ask.

"The one from the resistance. What's her name?" She clicked her fingers together, in realisation, "Rosie."

"Oh! Yeah, she's fine, and so are the kids."

"You seem to be taking a shine to her, from what I hear from the resistance. You and Rosie seem to be something of a dynamic duo."

Suddenly your shirt was ripped open, from the collar to your ribs. Making your eyes widen in shock.

However, you were used to this by now, so they soon returned back to their regular size.

"Yeah, we're friends."

Hannah hummed, something akin to a knowing smirk on her face. As she untucked your shirt.

"I'd keep an eye on her, though."

She opened your pants.

"She's being watched."

Breathless at what she just said, you stood stock still, watching as she walked towards the wooden door.

"Oh." Hannah stopped, her hand upon the handle, pulling some pieces of paper from her pocket and threw them to the floor, "I'll leave you to deliver the bad news."

And with that, she left.

***

You forewent telling Rosie everything from the mention of her.

Thinking it the best if she heard it differently.

"That really sounds like a spy meeting to me," Rosie said with a smirk, knowing it would annoy you to no end.

You closed your eyes before you could roll them into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath, you exhaled, "I'm not a spy."

"So, you've said," she giggled.

"You're drunk," you mumbled to yourself.

"What was that?"

"How are the kids?" you asked, clearly watching as Rosie groaned lightly. Her head down-turned, almost sad looking.

"Jojo's still obsessed with Hitler and everything. And Elsa's doing her best. But I can tell how much this is affecting her. And in what world wouldn't it?"

"She's strong." You nodded. "She'll get through it. We all will."

"And what about Jojo?"

Rosie turned to face you, hair swaying as she did. You could see the glazed look in her eye's, telling yourself to be extra vigilant with the woman upon the roof. You had to make sure she didn't fall off in her drunken state.

"Is he going to be like this for the rest of his life?"

Tears were building in her eyes now.

"Supporting evil dictators, wanting to take over the world, and fill it with hate?"

"No. No, of course not," you whispered. Reaching over, you clasped her cheeks between your rough, war-hardened hands. Wiping away her silent tears. "He's just a boy. A boy who wants to be a part of something, even if he doesn't understand what that is. What monster's he's following. He will realise one day. Trust me."

"I trust you." She nodded. "It just. It's hard. It's so hard. Especially when he plays up, like he did at dinner today."

"He did?"

She hummed with a nod.

"We're low on food right now. I had to go without to feed Elsa. But Jojo, he didn't know, obviously, so he took that too. Then he started arguing about his father-"

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. But luckily for you, she didn't notice your reaction.

"-I yelled at him... we made up not long after, but I still feel awful about it. I'm a terrible mother."

"No, you're not-"

"I am-"

"No. You're not," you said firmly. Grabbing her forearm, gently moving it side to side, to get your point further across, "You're such a caring and amazing person. Your heart is so big and kind. And you're an even better mother. It's like all of that is doubled for those kids."

"Thank you," Rosie whispered, tears in her eyes once again, before she moved to wipe them away.

"Anyway, you're way better than my mother. She abandoned me at a farm. I was lucky a cow didn't shit on me."

She giggled at your little joke.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"There's no need. I wouldn't change it."

Things were quiet for a few minutes when you suddenly remembered.

"Oh!" You reached into your pocket and pulled out three packages, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with string. "I guess it was just lucky that I brought these then."

"What are they?"

"Beef sandwiches, I thought you would like them."

"Oh, you're a lifesaver," she spoke in something close to a moan as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

You gave a small chuckle at the woman seated beside you, "I'd thought you'd say that. I'll have to start bringing food over to these meetings of ours because it's not like I can do it out in the open."

"People would think something was going on between us," Rosie hummed.

"You're right about that. Everyone is so bored around here. Gossip is like their life sauce."

"Would you be surprised if I told you that it was the same before the war?"

"Not at all," you laughed.

Rosie finished her sandwich, and you dreaded what was coming next.

"I need to tell you something," you almost whispered.

She bumped her shoulder against yours when you didn't continue.

"Well? What is it?"

"It... it's about your husband..."

You watched her carefully as you said that, all the while emotions, flew into her while she processed them.

She held back more tears, ones from the look on her face that she had shed more times than she could count. Face contoured into one of concealed pain. Looking away from your gentle, caring eyes while rubbing her hands together.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." You nodded, looking out before you, into the starry night sky.

That's when you felt a tiny jolt beside you. Looking over at the blonde, you watched as a tear trickled down her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered.

With a gasp and a wet sniff, Rosie wiped her tears away.

"What happened?"

"There was a raid, some members of a resistance was there, your husband included. None of them made it... they saved the people they intended to, however."

She nodded with a sad yet proud smile.

"How long ago was this?"

You swallowed. Hating the words you were about to say.

"A little over a year ago."

You winced when you heard her sobs, ones being held in so hard just so no one could overhear her cries.

And, sickeningly so, the worst thing of all was that you didn't know how to help her.

Placing a hand upon her back, rubbing small comforting circles into her shoulder. Feeling her lean into you, face now pushed into your neck.

"I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

You left not too long later, after already spending way too much time up on that roof.

Rosie wished you a "goodbye" with the promise that she would be fine. However, she didn't reply to you when you told her not to finish the rest of the wine. That she had been pounding for the majority of the day.

Before you arrived "home" and promptly collapsed onto the bed.

***

The afternoon sun was warm upon your face as you walked the streets of the German town. Watching as children ran around, women worked, and well, gossiped, and Nazi soldiers came and went.

Soon. You thought. This will all be over soon.

That's when you heard the murmured words from the women you had just walked past.

"Yes, the Gestapo. They're here right now."

"Who for?" the other woman asked, voice slightly higher at the aspect of such "juicy" gossip.

Sometimes it surprised you just how detached some of these people were from human lives. But then you took a step back and saw everything that was happening in the world. And you weren't surprised anymore. Just disappointed.

"The traitors wife. Beltzer."

And now you were scared.

"-They should be taking her to the square, right now."

It was like the world had slowed down as you turned to look at them, meeting their curious eyes.

The last thing you heard before taking off at a run towards the town square was a fading, "Like husband, like wife. I guess."

The people you passed by looked at you like you were insane. To see a, what they thought, General, sprinting down streets and panting like crazy, it set them on edge.

But you didn't give a damn about what anybody thought.

You just had to get to the square.

And quick.

***

By the time you got there, you had a light shine over your skin. Thanks to the sweat from both the running you had done and the worry that coursed through you.

"Remove your hands from her," came your faux German accent.

"She is a traitor to the Reich," one of the Gestapo's, seemingly the leader, replied assuredly.

"And what proof do you have of this?"

Rosie was terrified. You could see that as clear as day, no matter how she tried to keep calm. It was written all over her face.

So, you forcefully pushed their hands from the heavily breathing woman and pulling her to stand by your side and away from the group of men dressed in black suits.

"I'll have you know, we have very probable tips from some of the community-"

""Probable"?!" you shouted, causing the on edge woman beside you to jump slightly. To which you pulled her closer to you as a form of comfort. Your hand, coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Yes. Probable. We cannot have risks."

"Well, I say that it is bullshit."

"You have no jurisdiction or authority over our department."

"And I never said I did. I am saying that I vouch for this woman."

"But the tip-off's-" another man began.

"You choose to believe lonely and bored housewives over a General?!" You watched as their faces fell, and they tried to grab onto any straw they could to change your mind.

"There is still a chance-"

"There is no chance!"

"And can you be so sure?!"

"Do you really believe that I, a General, would be with her if you were right?"

"With her?" a third Gestapo asked curiously.

You knew what you had to do to get her back home, safe and away from the men trying to execute and make a spectacle of her. Just like the poor people hanging to your right.

"It means that I have been seeing her. Romantically, if you still do not fully understand, what I mean."

They didn't say anything for a few short moments, only stumbling and stuttering over their own voices.

"So, tell me. Who are you choosing to believe?"

"Uh. Y-You General."

"Good." You nodded once. "Now, I'm going to take her home. Goodbye, gentlemen," you spat. Turning on your heel, with Rosie under your arm, and walking away.

"Are you okay?" you whispered. Not drawing any attention to yourself or Rosie.

"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me," she replied in the same way.

"I wouldn't have done anything else." Your hand slipped down to the blondes dip in her lower back, helping to guide her back home. "Where are the flyers? Did you have any on you?"

"Yes. I threw them down the drain before they could see."

"Good. You did good." A squeeze to her hip before your hand returned to her lower back, just to keep up the appearance of the lie. "They're not gonna find them."

***

Rosie had relaxed more by the time you were at the bottom of her street when you saw a distinctly expensive car parked outside of Rosie's house. A car that everyone knows belongs to that of Gestapo's.

"Is Jojo home?" you asked, just stood there starring at the sight, with Rosie by your side.

"Yes," she husked.

"Shit."

And that's when you both broke out in a run.

You, being faster than Rosie, arrived at the building first. Barging through the door, with her hot on your heels.

Pounding your way up the stairs, only to come face to face with a gang of men, identically dressed to the Gestapo's, you had just saved Rosie from. Along with Jojo and Elsa, in clothes that didn't look like they belonged to her. Not to mention the demoted soldier, holding an identification book.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

"What are you doing in my house?!" you and Rosie said at the same time. Your yell angrier, compared to her more so worried one.

"We are searching the premises," the lead man, who wore round glasses, spoke. Face confused as to why Rosie was still alive. But as soon as he saw the anger chiselled upon your face. He could take a successful guess as to who had stopped the execution.

"Mama, they were just checking Inge's identification," Jojo said as his mother rushed towards him. Her hands, on his cheeks, as she checked him over.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Rosie pulled Jojo along to bring Elsa into her side, just as you had done for her mere minutes ago. "Are you both alright?"

She gained words and nods of confirmation from the two children.

"I think it's time that you all left."

"But-" one Gestapo said, looking to Rosie.

"But nothing," you continued, "I'm sure your associates will fill you in on their mistake. Now, if you are finished, I ask that you leave this house."

"We were just about to, anyway," the leader said, leading the way out for everyone. But not before the ID was handed back to the assumed Inge. With you trailing after, to slam the door behind them.

You turned, leaning your back against the wooden door, sighing deeply.

"Are they gone?" Rosie called down, leaning over the railing, to peer down at you.

The stairs creaked below you, the layer of carpet doing nothing to quiet them. You spoke your confirmation, as you reached her, "They're gone."

The kids looked like they had just been caught with their hand's in the cookie jar.

"So..." the caring woman started, "You two know about each other."

They nodded.

"For how long?"

"A couple of weeks, at most," Jojo said.

"How did you even find out about her?"

"I-I found the hatch-"

"He crawled in-"

"And I found her-"

"He was terrified."

"Was not!"

"Was too."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Okay, enough," Rosie raised her voice, gaining the bickering children's attention.

Taking a breath, she ran her hands through her soft blonde hair.

"And you never told anyone?"

"No." Jojo shook his head. "I didn't want you to get into trouble..." It was at that point, he realised you were silently stood behind his mother, watching as everything unfolded and who you were.

Rosie caught this and looked over her shoulder at you.

"Don't worry," she told both of the kids, crouching down before them. Elsa's face one of mild terror.

This is when it hit you that these kids were exactly that.

Kids.

Kid's that were too scared of their mothers, or motherly figure, scolding them, than the actual, apparent danger that lurked not too far away.

"They're not going to tell anybody. They know. And won't let anything happen. To any of us." she manoeuvred to face you. "Right?"

You nodded. "Absolutely. I will do my best to protect all of you."

"Speaking of." She slowly rose to her feet, walking towards you.

The hand that Rosie placed upon your arm was gentle, almost like she was worried she would hurt you. Fingers curling into the jacket of the uniform you loathed.

"I have to speak with the General. So, you two stay up here. Understood?"

They nodded.

"Good." She pulled you through the open door, but before she could close it fully, her head popped through the door, "Oh. And we're not done yet. We still have a lot to talk about."

Then the door clicked shut.

"You're really good at that."

"What?"

"Being a mother."

"I know. You've told me before."

***

Things had changed rather quickly when you arrived downstairs.

Sat upon the blue cotton cushions of the wooden framed couch. Watching as Rosie paced around in front of you, fingertips rubbing against her full lips, worry etched across her face.

Your eyebrows shot up, and your body straightened when she turned to face you. Arms now down by her sides.

"So, we're together, huh?"

"I'm sorry," you replied, German accent dropped, "But that was the only thing that would get them to back off and drop the suspicions against you."

"I know." She nodded, completely understanding. Before her minimal composure dropped, and the worry came back. "What do we do? Jojo obviously thinks you are a traitor now. What if he tells someone?"

"He won't." You stood abruptly, taking Rosie's shoulder's into your hands, squeezing them gently. "He didn't tell anyone about Elsa when he had so many chances to do so. Hell, he had the chance, not even five minutes ago. But he hasn't said a word, purely just to keep you safe... he doesn't understand that this could hurt him and Elsa too. He doesn't know what's happening."

"But this is different-"

"Yes, it is different. It's better he thinks I'm a traitor, helping his family, than him knowing I'm an undercover soldier."

"You mean a spy?"

"Don't you start with that shit." You pointed at her playfully.

Rosie's smile dropped when a thought popped into her mind.

"Do you think they will still come back?"

"It is possible," you said honestly, "Which is why we should leave as soon as we possibly can."

"And go where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"What do I tell the kids- What do I tell Jojo?" she clarified.

"The truth. You tell them that they could come back and that we all need to leave because we could all be in danger."

With her head in her hand's, the blonde scoffed tearily, "God. This fucking war."

"I know. I know."

You pulled her into your chest, letting her cry into you. Arms wound around your torso tightly.

"I hate it, For so many reasons."

"I know," you repeated again, "I feel the same."

"When will it just end? When will people be safe again?"

Deciding that it would be best to tell her the truth, you said, "I don't know. Soon I hope."

And there you sat, for a small while longer, allowing the blonde to cry into your chest.

***

You had left.

Gone to go gather some of your things, thinking it best to stay with Rosie and the kids while you were forced to stay in town.

All the while Rosie, spoke to the kids about leaving.

"I don't understand why we have to go!"

Was what you were greeted with as you entered the home.

"Because it is not safe for us here anymore," Rosie's voice came, calm but firm.

"But they won't come back."

"That's not entirely true," you spoke, entering the kitchen. Placing the leather bag you carried and the wicker basket upon the small table against the wall, you continued, "There's always a chance, no matter how small."

The young boy watched you silently for a minute. Not knowing what to say.

"Trust me, Jojo. I know how all of this works. I just want to keep you all safe, so does your mother. And this is the best way to do it.2

Jojo sighed.

"Where will we go?"

Rosie looked at you intently when her son asked this, wondering the same thing.

"We'll get out of town first. Then we'll focus on a safe place for us all to go."

"Jojo, would you. Would you go to your room, please?" Rosie asked, "I need to speak with the General, alone."

Just as the blonde boy was about to protest, he was cut off.

"Now. I also have to start preparing dinner."

He huffed and walked from the room, bounding up the stairs rather loudly.

You felt bad for the woman as you watched her grip the sides of the oven, bow her head, and give a great sigh.

"Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her hiding spot." Then she turned to face you. "Y/N, K know that Elsa isn't Inge."

"What?"

"She got Inge's birthday wrong, and he didn't say anything."

Your eye's wandered as you took in the information that was just given to you.

"Do you think he will say anything?"

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, "But I don't wanna take any chances. It's too risky."

"I agree." Rosie nodded once. "So, when do we leave."

"As soon as possible. Tonight if we can. Only pack the essentials. And not yet, we can't raise any suspicions."

Rosie's only reply and indication that she had heard you were a good few nods.

And then.

"What's in the basket?"

"Oh," you said chipperly, "Don't worry about cooking. I brought dinner."

***

Turns out "tonight" wasn't a viable option for skipping town, as with loud, almost deafening sirens of dread filled the sky came the air-raid strike.

"Wouldn't it give us a good cover, though?" Rosie had asked, preparing for bed.

You had resigned yourself to staying over, as a sort of bodyguard, while still in town. And the threat was still very much weighing in the winds.

You looked over your shoulder at her. Being spotted by her through the mirror of her vanity, where she sat. Removing her makeup and then applying some face cream.

"I'm not the only one by a window," you told her. Then moved to peer through the window, at the moving lights in the black, midnight sky. "I'm sure I heard Elsa and Jojo in the attic watching them."

"They are," she confirmed.

"See. We're not the only ones. Too many eyes. A good distraction," you admitted, "But almost impossible. And with two kids added to that? No chance."

A hum came from Rosie.

"So, what are our options?"

With a sigh, you began explaining, "People will be too jumpy tomorrow, so our best bet would be the day after."

The blonde, now ready for bed, came over to you. Moving to stand right in front of you, looking out the window herself.

"Wouldn't it be too risky, staying here that long?"

It seemed it was your turn to hum, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'd rather stay here a few more days than risk it out there. But there is a good side to these change of plans."

"And what's that?"

"Now, we can sneak stuff to the car. And won't risk being caught doing it all at night. That way, all we have to do is get in, then drive off."

"Good plan. Partner," Rosie spoke in a slight mocking about sultry tone. Which only made you roll your eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're welcome."

"Seriously," you halted at Rosie's serious tone, raising your head to peer at her, "Thank you for everything."

"You don't have to thank me." Your lips ticked up in a small smile before you lightened the sober mood and atmosphere. "And you definitely won't be thanking me if I accidentally kick you in my sleep."

Rosie laughed at your words, watching as you said into bed beside her.

"Do not worry. If you kick me, I'll just kick you out of the bed."

"Now that's just rude."

Waking up the next morning was strange for you, to say the least.

With the bright sun shining through the thin drapes, across the cosy room, and onto the bed. Duvet lumpy above your forms.

And then there was Rosie.

The blonde pressed up against your side, head resting on your shoulder, arms curled around one of yours, still fast asleep.

Now that.

That was very unusual for you.

But then again. You were too sleepy to process anything at that moment. So instead, you just watched her breathe soothingly, looking so peaceful by your side, with your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinted in curiosity.

It was a wonder how someone could look so contest face asleep like Rosie was, with everything that is going on in the world.

The world wouldn't be that way for much longer, you thought, it was only a matter of time before everything was over.

And the same thing could be said for the blonde sleeping by your side.

The wooden door barged open, alerting you fully awake, as Jojo strutted in. Only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you. In bed. With his mother.

You could see the slight anger in his eyes, purely out of protection for his beloved mother.

"Good morning, Jojo," Rosie said sleepily as she moved to sit up, looking at the boy with a sleepy smile.

You grunted as she pressed her palm into your abdomen to raise up into a seated position.

"What are they doing here?" he asked, nodding his head towards you.

Rosie looked over her shoulder at you, tired eyes evaluating you. Before she turned back to her son.

"There's something I forgot to tell you yesterday."

You watched the mother and child with slightly wide eyes, not uttering a word, just looking like you wanted to escape this situation.

"What did you forget?"

"The General here-" she patted your abdomen where her hand still resided. "-And I, are seeing each other."

It was a few good long moments as Jojo processed the words. You thought he was going to be angry. It would be natural. You would understand. He was a young boy, one who undoubtedly missed his father and would not be happy with his mother being with anyone else.

But you also had to understand that he idolised you, if only for your -albeit fake- position in the German military.

And yet, you were still surprised and confused by what he said next.

"A lion?"

Rosie smiled brightly, nodding her head, "A lion."

"A lion?"

That was the first thing you said that morning, and it was full of confusion.

But it fell on deaf ears.

Jojo nodded once at his mother before turning on his heel and walking from the room, without saying what he initially came in for.

"What?"

Rosie smiled at you.

"Come on, we should get moving."

The bed shook and bounced as she got up from the bed, preparing to get ready for the day.

"I'm so confused," you almost whimpered, only gaining a soft giggle in return.

***

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[winterscaptain]

tell.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i cannot tell yall how long i have been working on this one, so i'll save it. thanks to @ssaic-jareau for hanging in there with me as i pulled late nights to make this happen over the weekend!! i love you!! i know it's broad daylight for you while im being irresponsible, but i appreciate it nevertheless. let me know what you think, my lovelies! i cherish your thoughts!

words: 7.4k warnings: language, discussion of sex, canon-typical case events

summary: “we are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.” veronica roth, allegiant. au!may 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

It’s always tough to spend time away from home when you aren’t on a case, but a conference kept you from your boys the last couple of days, on Strauss’s request. Aaron was none too happy about it, but as the junior-most agent in the unit (even with five years under your belt), the shitty seminars and professional development events fell on your shoulders. 

Even though you landed early in the morning, flying coach all the way back from California, there was a whole day with Jack waiting for you and Aaron upon your return. A rare Saturday - no case, no paperwork, just family.

You knock on the door with a knuckle, unable to reach your keys around your bags and breakfast. 

Aaron opens the door with a “Hey!” coated in laughter, kissing your cheek. He’s still in his pajamas. 

You squint at him. “Am I early?”

He snorts. “Never. We’re running late.” He takes the takeout bags and coffee from your hands. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

“Of course. I wanted -” 

Jack runs across the apartment and slams into you full force. “You’re home!” 

You curl around him, your hands on his head and shoulder as he cuddles into you. “I am! I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His voice is muffled by your shirt and it makes you smile. You glance at Aaron over Jack’s head to find a smile. 

“Come look at our fort!” Jack, wearing a blanket cape, takes you by the hand and brings you into the dining room, where the dining room table has been turned into a massive fort fit for a king. 

Or, rather, two kings. 

“Oh my goodness, Jack. This is incredible, little bug. Your architectural prowess knows no bounds.” You look up at Aaron from your place on the floor. “Where’s your cape?” 

His deadpan, as usual, never fails to make you laugh. “Uh, I’m wearing it.” 

Jack continues to drag you all the way under the table until you’re laying on your bellies in the little slap-dash shelter.

Aaron flops down on the floor on the other side of Jack. “We slept in here all night.” 

“Really? That sounds like so much fun.” 

What you mean is, What, with your bad back? 

“Mmhmm,” he replies, only to really say - 

Yep. I feel like shit. 

“Can we sleep in here again tonight, Dad?” Jack asks, turning to Aaron. “All together?” 

You exchange a glance with Aaron, who laughs. 

So much for grown-up plans...

+++

You’re both scrambling to get ready for the bike ride across the mall and day at the Smithsonian when the phone call comes in. 

“Hotchner,” Aaron says, still at the counter, tucking his phone under his chin as he finishes packing the rest of the picnic basket. 

He freezes, hastily bagging some carrots and putting them in the basket before holding the phone in his hand and leaning heavily against the counter. “You’re kidding.” 

That’s not a good tone. 

Jack looks up at you, and you rest your hands on his chest over his shoulders, backing him into you as you watch Aaron with your lip between your teeth. 

“Did they raise the terror alert?”

Shit. 

“Okay. That’s for the best. Um…” He checks his watch. “I’ll get down there now. Yeah….Do you need the rest -” 

With a huff, he meets your eyes and nods. 

You let out a sigh and kiss Jack’s head. He knows the drill and runs off for your phone, still charging in the bedroom. 

“Understood, ma’am. I’ll be there first. We gotta get Jack squared away but I’ll get going while -” He pauses, probably interrupted by Strauss again. “Thank you...Yes...I’ll be there as soon as I can and the rest of the team will meet at the scene.” 

You know that also means you. You also can’t ignore the prick of anxiety that shoots through your belly, knowing he’ll likely be in danger without you for at least a half-hour. 

Jack returns with your phone, Jessica already on the line. 

+++

Aaron, of course, leaves right away while you wait for Jess. 

You sit on the couch with Jack. “I’m so sorry, buddy. We’ll have to do a big day, just the three of us, another time.” 

Jack shrugs. “It’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta catch the bad guys.” 

The offhand nature of his understanding strikes you as instantly hilarious, and he laughs with you when you double over, wiping tears from your eyes. 

“Yeah. Sometimes you just do, kiddo.” 

+++

When you finally arrive at the scene, Dave’s already set up hostage negotiation. You cross the street, finding Will and JJ huddled with Emily and Derek. 

“You okay?” You ask, placing your hand on Will’s shoulder. He’s not just JJ’s not-husband. He’s your friend, too, all on his own. 

“Yeah, jus’ fine.” He shakes his head. “Jus’ a little rattled, is all.” 

“Understandable.” 

His mouth presses into a thin line as he exhales. “Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Y’all should get on back. I think Strauss just showed up.”

JJ kisses his cheek and trots off to meet the rest of the unit. After another hug for Will, you follow suit. 

+++

“The media's calling them the Face Cards. Seven bank robberies in seven months. They've killed one person at each robbery.” Aaron leads the rest of you to the trailer, where the monitors are all set up. 

Dave furrows his brow. “M. O.?” 

“Single gunshot wound. Each of the victims has bled out.” 

That doesn’t make much sense. 

You jump in. “Serial killers with a 30-day cooling-off period and we're only just hearing about this now?” 

“Well, headquarters has always characterized them robbers first and killers second,” Aaron replies, glancing back at you. You roll your eyes. 

Of course they did. 

“No one kills seven people without serious psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer notes. He’s more than right, and you thought the same thing - it’s almost like he took the words out of your mouth. 

“I disagreed with the original assessment. I was overruled.” Aaron’s bland version of frustration is clear in his tone, but he knows, just as you do, that ship has sailed. All you can do now is handle what’s in front of you. 

“So why are we here now?” Dave asks. 

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.” 

Aaron starts to walk again as JJ asks after more information. Aaron usually rattles it off pretty quickly, but with the quick start this morning, you know he trusts the rest of you to ask the questions you need. “What more do we know about them? 

“They're organized, they're efficient. Each strike lasts about two minutes.” 

Derek, walking beside you, finally joins the conversation. “They gotta be scouting the banks in advance. Why haven't we been able to identify them off of surveillance footage?” 

“They hack the security feed and turn off the cameras, both during the initial canvass and during the robbery, until the masks come back on, and then we're allowed to watch.” Aaron leads you all into the tactical staging truck, watching the security feeds. 

+++

As you continue to watch, the scene becomes clearer, the power dynamics more tangible. 

Dave sees it, too. “They're using the hostages as human shields.” 

JJ, with Will beside her, studies the footage, watching the Queen run around while the King finds himself preoccupied with the Jack’s wound. “This is the first time they've been interrupted. What went wrong?”

“It's a big bank,” Emily says. “It's possible they weren't about to round everybody up before someone triggered an alarm.” 

That’s a fair point, but you ask your question anyway.  “Why haven't they cut the feed now that they've been cornered?”

Derek, still beside you, answers. “Letting us see inside gives up a tactical advantage. They gotta know that.” 

They don't seem to care,” Aaron says, from your other side. 

You’re all silent for another minute, watching to see what happens next. Even though their plans went awry, the team still looks fairly calm and collected, all things considered. 

JJ’s frown only deepens. “They're overconfident. Arrogant, even.” 

“The face card masks add to their narcissism.” Spencer’s voice comes from the end of the line. “Their personas are the royalty of poker.” 

You nod - it’s a great point - while Aaron starts making assignments.  

“JJ, Reid, and Prentiss, look at past robberies. That's gonna be our victimology. Pull another analyst if you need to.” He turns to you, then Dave, on his other side. “I want you two to handle negotiations. And, Morgan, strategize tactical options with MPD.” 

You shuffle, gathering your radio and earpiece from the charger next to Penelope’s computer. 

When the rest of the team leaves, you hang back with Dave, keying into the radio channels and standing by for further instruction - you know there’s more for you in the trailer at the moment. 

Further instruction, though, may have to wait. Strauss climbs the steps into the rig and Aaron greets her. “Chief Strauss.” 

“The Director ordered me to supervise your operation.” 

Of course he did. 

“Puts you right in the spotlight,” Dave says, not unkindly. It’s almost fond. 

You can’t help but hold back a little bit of a smile. If the situation were reversed and it was Aaron at the helm, you’d be proud of him, too. 

“Well, you've got gunmen with hostages in the Capital. The Hill's concerned.” 

Aaron nods, gesturing to you and Dave. “We're about to open lines of communication.”

“What about a tactical assault?”

The three of you shake your heads as Aaron responds. “I don't think it's a good idea. There are hostages in front of the doors and windows.” 

Erin, finally onboard, turns to Dave. “What's your negotiation strategy?” 

“The Jack's bleeding out. They'll ask for medical attention.” 

You hum, a little skeptical, and look back at the feed. “The female unsub might have something to say about that. Look at her body language.” 

Dave follows your gaze. “She is cold and detached. The King seems genuinely concerned about his partner's welfare. But she couldn't give a damn.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “The men probably know each other.” 

Aaron, picking up on your train of thought, flags Penelope, “Garcia?” 

She turns in her chair, already typing. “Shuffling my techno-fabulous deck of databases, sir.” 

And so it begins. 

+++

“I’ll do the talking - I’ll need to establish some rapport with them, but I’ll need you keeping the team updated and coordinating any allowances or personnel as things come up, okay?” 

You nod, a little smile pulling at the side of your mouth. “You got it.” 

Dave claps your shoulder. “You’ll be in this chair one day, so pay attention.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He dials in and the phone starts ringing through the speaker. You’ll be able to hear everything. 

“Who the hell's this?” You check the monitor. The King picked up the phone. 

Obviously, the Jack can’t pick up the phone, stupid, he’s bleeding out!

“My name is David Rossi. I'm with the FBI. To whom am I speaking?” 

The King doesn’t address the question, but rather looks back toward his fallen compatriot. “All right, I want a doctor sent in, and then I want out of here.” 

Dave checks his watch. “Well, we certainly can discuss that. Let the hostages go and we'll give you all the medical help you need.” 

You take a mental note. Your memories from Dave’s lectures at the academy are fuzzy at best, and you haven’t had very much time handling these things in the field. The last time a major hostage crisis was at hand, you were a hostage yourself. 

A shot hostage, if the chronic nerve pain in your shoulder is any reminder. 

“I can't do that. I need the leverage.” 

“How about a sign of good faith? Send out the women and children and I'll see what I can do.” 

You watch as the King takes the phone away from his mouth. You can vaguely hear him update the Queen, but she’s not having it. She pulls a child from the lineup and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. 

A man, you presume the girl’s father, speaks to the Queen before she shoots him in the abdomen. The King gets back on the line. 

“You better send in some more help or more people are gonna die.” He hangs up. 

Shit. 

+++

“You’re not seriously considering sending an agent in there?” You turn on Hotch and he sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. 

“We don’t have much of a choice. I’m not the authority on-site and with the director pressing Strauss, there’s not much I can do.” 

The two of you are alone for the time being, so you’re able to rib him for a second to lighten the tension. 

“What’s the point of being unit chief if you can’t lord it over everyone all the time?” 

You're rewarded with a shadow of a smile and a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. I lord it over you plenty.” 

“Not enough.” Your tone is childish, the words murmured under your breath. 

When he walks away, he taps the side of your ass with the back of his hand. If you weren’t in a professional setting, you could mistake it for a promise. 

But, Aaron, that would be unprofessional!

You turn to look at him and just catch his wink as he hops up the steps behind Strauss. 

+++

With Garcia’s magic and Aaron’s genius, you figure out that the men are related. 

While Rossi hops on the next phone call, you help Derek outfit the medic with a bug and a weapon. 

“We're sending in the medic now, Chris. Tell Oliver help is on the way.” 

Derek nods at the medic and he hops off, heading into the bank. You jog over to the trailer only to find a humorously horrified look on Strauss’s face. 

“Is she…” 

You get closer, looking up at the monitor. 

“...putting on lipstick?” 

You scoff. “She’s vain. Only contributes to a profile of vanity and narcissism. She likes to be seen - this is a game for her.” 

You jog back out before Strauss can respond, taking your place between Aaron and Derek. 

“Green. You gotta go. Green. Go,” Derek says into his mic. 

The agent-turned-medic makes a move and immediately gets a shot between the eyes for his trouble. Your hand files over your mouth and Derek ducks away, taking a second. 

Well, that couldn’t have been any worse. 

You look at Aaron, still staring at the screen, beside you. He’s thinking the same thing. 

+++

Derek walks up to you, kevlar and sunglasses firmly in place. “Tactical's been deployed, snipers are moving into position.” 

At your questioning look, Strauss clarifies. “The Director's ordered a full tactical assault.” 

The look doesn’t leave your face. “His last orders cost us an agent.” 

Radio transmissions fly one ear and out the other, not to mention the flurry of activity around the negotiation tent. Before Strauss can reply, Will’s call shoots past you to Aaron.

“SWAT's getting itchy fingers.” 

Aaron turns, covering his comm mic at his chest. “You remind SWAT that bank robberies are federal jurisdiction. No one fires until they're ordered to.” 

“Right.” 

Will disappears and you suppress a little pleased shudder. Aaron’s very much in control now and it is doing things to your body that are better suited for, well, anywhere else. You tighten the velcro across your chest as if to compress another rush of… nothing useful. 

Aaron turns back to you, Dave, Derek, and Strauss. “All right, when the crossfire starts, what's gonna happen to the hostages caught in the middle?” 

The question is a trap, and Dave doubles down. “That's the wrong call, Erin, and you know it.” 

Strauss falters for a minute, leveling with the rest of you. “It's not my call.” 

Aaron doesn’t let up. “You're here and you're in charge.” His tone is sharper than yours would be in the same situation, but you’re nearly fifteen years younger and a whole four steps down on the totem pole. 

Not for the first time, a rush of affection and gratitude for him crests over your in a wave and you have to look away, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. When you look back, he’s watching you. 

I’m okay. 

He nods as Erin speaks again. 

“So you want me to disobey the Director?” Erin sounds dubious, at best. 

Dave responds quickly. “Yes.” 

Aaron amends, and if the situation wasn’t so tense his correction would almost be funny. “No. I just want you to buy us a little time.” He pauses, wavering for a second as he rephrases. “Don't be quite so efficient.” 

You’re never surprised by Aaron’s political savvy, but it is a nice reminder that he can run circles around every bureaucrat in the district if given the chance. 

“Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast.”

+++

“It’s an impossible ask, Dave. You know JJ will never go for it.” 

“It’s not up to JJ.” Aaron’s voice approaches from behind you. “It’s the director’s call, but mine first.” 

He comes to rest beside you as Dave leaves the two of you alone. 

“What are you gonna do?” You look at Aaron, finding his eyes trained on the monitor, arms crossed over his chest.

He sighs. “If it was you he asked for...” 

You bump his shoulder. “What, not interested in feeding me to serial killers today?” 

It’s a loaded joke, especially for the two of you, but after Emily, you’re past such things. If the situation were reversed, Haley would never stop giving you hell for getting serial-killed the way she did. It’s only fair to return the favor. 

“Over my dead body, baby.” He reaches down to squeeze your hand for a second before letting you go. “Do me a favor?” 

“Anything.” 

“Stay here.” 

+++

You can hear JJ’s anguished shouts from here, beside Dave and the phone. 

Derek has a good enough hold on her, Emily and Aaron protecting him from JJ’s wild elbows. She’s beside herself but eventually breaks free and sprints back toward the trailer. You turn to follow her, just in time to hear a gunshot. 

Will.

+++

You’re all gathered in the trailer as JJ asks the same questions over and over again. Garcia, just like the first time, doesn’t have any answers. 

The static on the monitors is nearly deafening in its silence. 

JJ looks at you for a moment and takes a shaky breath before looking at Hotch. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her voice is broken when she speaks. “Aaron.”

You know he’s never been able to deny her anything. In the entire time you’ve known him, it’s one of the few things that hasn’t changed. 

His eyes don’t budge from hers. “We’re going in.”

+++

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, trying to stem the stinging from the heat and debris. Your ears ring and you’ve got a scrape on your chin from where you face-planted into the asphalt. 

Eventually, you remove your hands and open your eyes to the early summer sunshine. Your bias is clear enough - Aaron’s the first one you look for and the first one you find.

He’s looking a little dazed and more than a little ruffled, but alive. 

Ignoring the whine in your ears and swiping some blood off your face, you jog over to him, taking stock of him from head to toe. “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer right away, and you realize he probably can’t hear you. An image of Kate reaching for you and the smell of blood flashes into your head, but you push it away. 

His ear…

“Aaron?” You lay a hand on his shoulder and he startles a little, meeting your eyes and coming back to himself all at once. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, tipping your jaw up with one finger to examine your chin. “You’re hurt.”

“Honey, I’m fine. Your ear…” You follow a small trickle of blood up the side of his neck, rounding him to get a better look. Just as you’d feared, his bad ear is bleeding again. 

He waves off your concern and taps his comm mic, calling for support in quick, clear soundbites. You snag the back of his vest before he can get too far away from you. 

“As soon as you’re done with that, please get it looked at.”

With a sigh, he nods and gestures to your chin. “I will if you do.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Where’s Emily?” You hear Morgan ask JJ as they get their bearings around you. 

With a start, you follow them into the building, attached to a couple of SWAT agents. You know Aaron will get after you for going in before everything’s cleared by bomb squad, but you can’t keep still. 

The heartache you feel for JJ supersedes anything else going on in your head. It’s something that plagues you all the time - the both of you doing this job. Losing Aaron in the field is a stark reality you can hardly consider at any point, especially when evidence of its reality is right in front of you. 

+++

Aaron can’t help himself - he pulls you close after you’re both released by the paramedics, pressing a kiss to your head. It’s almost desperate as he leans back and pulls your collar from your vest, his hands smoothing over your shoulders. 

“I need to debrief SWAT and first responders - can you stay with Dave and help with the media?” 

“Okay. Let me know if you need any extra hands - I’ll send ‘em right over.” 

He smiles at you, soft, small, and affectionate. “Thank you.” 

+++

You pull your phone from your pocket. 

She picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Jess.” 

“Hey.” She pauses. “You okay?”

With a shaky sigh, you reply. “Yeah. I’m fine. Aaron’s fine.” 

“I heard about the explosion. Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, we’re fine. Just...Just stay out of the city.” After another breath. “Is Jack okay?” 

She laughs a little. “Yeah. He’s fine. He’s a little anxious but I turned off the TV and we’re headed out to the park for a little while.” 

“Good.” You look over at Aaron, who holds your eyes for a second before returning to his EMS strategy huddle. 

“Be safe and come home to us soon, okay?” 

“Yeah. We will. We love you. Tell Jack we -”

“ - Of course.” 

+++

You follow Spencer through the debris once you’re done handling the media storm with Dave. Picking through the rubble, searching for something - anything - but not finding much. 

Derek’s voice echoes through the ruined, cavernous space that used to be the main lobby. “Everything they've said and done was for a reason. But what doesn't make any sense is she switched the negotiation demand. Chris wanted to go to Switzerland. She changed it to Chad.” 

“They also requested a private plane,” you note, “but no mention of a pilot.” 

Spencer stops, and you almost run into him. Emily stops as well, looking back at the pair of you as Spencer organizes his thoughts. When he’s ready to speak, he says, “Guys, if you think about it, even the dates mean something. In 2004, while she was wreaking havoc abroad, he was dishonorably discharged. Then in 2008, they likely met in Chad. And now this in 2012.” 

Good thought. But then again, when is one of Spencer’s thoughts bad? 

It’s a decent enough question, and you run the gamut of all the surprising and absurd things Spencer’s said in your presence over the years. One in particular comes to mind. 

Evil twin, eviler twin. 

You hold back a little laugh, despite the harrowing circumstances. 

Yeah, that one was pretty bad. 

“Okay.” Derek grabs your attention again. “So, is it a coincidence that those are all election years and they attacked D.C.? Maybe this is a political statement.” 

Emily’s eyes are stuck on something on the ground, but you’re not sure if it’s what she’s really looking at. “No. It's more personal than that. It's their story.” 

Derek’s brow pinches. “What?” 

“All of the details are a part of their story.” 

She starts to leave through one of the shattered windows and you follow her back to the trailer, Spencer and Derek not far behind. She hops up the steps and you take your place beside Aaron once you’re all inside. It’s much cozier in here, with eight of you. 

Spencer fills the rest of the team in on your conversation inside. Unsurprisingly, it’s rote - read like a cold script. 

Emily picks up when he’s done. “Their timeline suggests they were both destructive before they met.” 

“So we're talking about ex-military turning on their country.” Strauss looks and sounds skeptical, but you can’t blame her. In American culture, it’s rather incongruous. 

Now who sounds like Spencer?

“It's rare, but soldiers become disenfranchised no matter what the nationality. And if he met someone like-minded at that time, there'd be no stopping them.”

“So you're thinking they met during the civil unrest in Chad in '08.” Aaron’s voice isn’t skeptical - more probing. You can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “And one or both of them are pilots.”

“So if Garcia concentrates on that region,” Emily points to an area on a map, lit up on the monitor, “specifically weapons running in and out of Libya, there's a good chance we'll find their paths crossed.”

Penelope types furiously for a moment, her fingers flying over the keys. “Okay, multiple entries into Libya for a private pilot named Matthew Downs in '08, but I don't have her name.” 

“Well, because she had aliases. It's the only way to stay a ghost.” 

Looks like Emily’s Interpol knowledge is coming in handy. 

She continues. “Here's the thing - they are a couple. Regardless of what we believe of them, they will celebrate themselves and their connection.” She turns to Penelope, a thought sparking behind her eyes. “Is there anything that happened on this date in Chad?”

“Oh, you are good, Emily Prentiss.” Penelope types for a moment and you lean forward, watching her work. “But this news is not. Yes, there were multiple explosions on this date in '08.” 

Aaron speaks from beside you. He’s a little closer than you thought, and it startles you a little. 

In fairness, you’re still jumpy from the explosion. 

“Where were the most casualties?” 

“At a church-- no, no, a train. Yep.” 

Morgan squints at the photos of the hulled-out building. “Semtex and C-4?”

Penelope nods while Aaron turns toward Strauss. “Are trains still arriving at Union Station?”

“Yes, but only the authorities are allowed in.” There’s a moment where she almost looks panicked, but collects herself as the rest of you gear up to leave. 

Emily exhales down her nose. “That’s why they needed Will.” 

+++

Aaron drives impossibly fast through the district. You sit in the back seat with Emily, holding onto the handles above the door for dear life. 

You’ve never flashed your badge so many times in such a short period. Aaron tucked his badge into a strap of his vest, just to save time, but still has his credentials locked between his fingers as he drives. If you didn’t trust him so much, it would freak you out a little.  

+++

The comm in your ear crackles as Emily speaks. “I found Will.” 

“Is he mobile?” Aaron’s voice comes both from beside you and your comm - it’s a little disorienting, but you push through. 

“Negative. He's got 6 transmitters on him and this whole place is gonna blow.”

There’s hardly a hesitation in Aaron’s steps as he processes the information. “All right, where are you? I'm on my way.” 

He’d like to think he’s made of steel. 

Sometimes he is. 

“No,” Emily asserts. “You gotta get everyone out. Is the bomb squad here yet?” 

“They're 3 minutes away.” 

“Copy.” She sounds a little disappointed, or maybe frustrated, but doesn’t say anything else.

He turns back to you, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you leading evacuation. Get out of here.” 

Tears prick at your eyes and honestly, this is the first moment you’ve really been afraid. Existentially afraid. Afraid of walking out of this train station and leaving Aaron and Emily and Will to blow up. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yep. Go.” He tries to push you away, but you resist. 

“Promise?” 

His brown eyes soften as his mouth presses into a thin line. “Can’t. I love you. Get outta here.” 

You bounce on your toes for a second, acutely aware you’re wasting valuable time, before yanking him forward to kiss his cheek before you sprint away from him, shouting instructions to the panicked crowd as you go. 

+++

You catch up with Derek, racing to catch your suspect. He corners him in an alley but can’t quite overpower him. You reach for your sidearm, but by the time you take aim, Downs is already on the ground, a gunshot ringing through the air. 

Startled, you turn over your shoulder to find Aaron still staring down the sight of his Glock. 

Could take an eye out, with that thing.

You sigh and holster your weapon. Derek looks plenty dazed and you don’t blame him. It’s not often he’s on the receiving end of a near-miss in close combat. He looks over your shoulder and you can see something pass between him and Aaron. 

Maybe one day, Derek will know how much Aaron loves and respects him. 

You watch Derek shake it off and stumble as he attempts to rise to his feet. 

Today is not that day. 

Coming to your senses, you trot forward and help him to his feet, brushing wayward asphalt off of him. You turn back to Aaron. “Everything alright?” 

He ignores you, pressing the mic at his chest as he begins to run back toward the station. “Prentiss, what’s your status?”

+++

Seeing Will and Emily leave the building in one piece is a relief. You meet Aaron’s gaze and his eyes are exhausted. The gears in his head still whir. He’s still in game-mode, and it’s a good thing. 

With the logistical nightmare of two bomb threats in one day, there’s a lot of work ahead of you. 

+++

You swing back and forth in your desk chair, brain completely numb from the paperwork. It’s been a long day, and you’ve been up since three this morning, what with your flight back from California. You’re certain you’ve had longer days than this one, but you’re approaching twenty-one hours without sleep and it feels worse than you remember. 

What were we planning to do today?

A bike ride and museum day with Jack seems impossibly long ago. Last week, maybe.

Derek and Emily sit on their desks, attempting to keep a conversation going without much luck. 

They were house-hunting this morning. 

Penelope slowly descends the stairs as Spencer turns in his seat. “The convention’s still happening tomorrow if you want to go.” 

They were at a convention this morning. 

Everyone had lives this morning. Weird.

She makes an uncertain noise. “That whole city-on-the-brink-of-destruction thing kinda took the wind out of my sails, you know?” 

You look up at her as she takes her place beside Spencer. “It’ll get you every time.” 

“You gotta watch out for that,” Emily adds. It makes you smile a little. 

Derek looks a little less amused, reminding Emily they’ll have to finish the inspection another time. Between Spencer and Penelope, Emily cops to a crack in the foundation of her almost-home. 

“That does not sound good,” Penelope says. You can’t help but agree. 

There’s a weird look on Derek’s face, but you ignore it in favor of Strauss’s descent on the stairs. 

“Our unsub,” she says, “is Izzy Rogers. She'll be charged with multiple counts domestically, and our international counterparts will have their turn with her. She will never see the light of day.” A little smile graces her lips. 

You realize with the tiniest of laughs (really - it’s a one on the Aaron Hotchner scale of laugher, which means it’s hardly noticeable to the naked eye) that you don’t hate her or even dislike her as much as you used to. Maybe, you even want her around. 

Don’t push it.  

“I just thought you'd like to know that.” 

The five of you murmur something that sounds like, “Thank you, ma’am.” 

She pulls Derek, probably to kick his ass for something or another and send herself back on your shit list. 

That’s a problem for another time. 

You take Izzy Rogers’s file from Emily, looking over an impressive rap sheet. You’re happy for a few things. 

The first - that Aaron’s not a federal prosecutor anymore. This’ll be a case for the ages. 

The second - you’ll never have to think about her again. 

The third - you’re not sure. You’re sleep-deprived. It’ll come to you. 

She cost me my precious eight hours and I’ll never forgive her. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aaron leave his office. You set the file down and look up at him, halfway-hoping for once he’ll tell you to go home without him. 

“Dave wants to know if everyone is free tomorrow night.” 

Without any inflection at all, you reply. “We better not be doing anything tomorrow night.” 

“Well,” Derek says, interrupting Emily’s snort. “If he’s buying, then I’m definitely in.” 

Emily, Spencer, and Penelope jump onto Derek’s conditional acceptance and a rare smile pulls at Aaron’s face, his dimples on full display. 

“Hear that? We’re in.” 

+++

When you get home, Aaron all-but carries you to bed. With the tenderest of hands, he removes your shoes and socks, unbuttons your pants, slides them down your legs, and throws them in the laundry basket. 

You’re practically wilting where you sit, feeling more and more like a sleepy toddler by the minute. 

Aaron unbuttons your shirt and slips it off your shoulders, kissing each cheek in turn. “I’ll start a shower.” 

You move to protest, but he strips and that mostly shuts you up. He starts the water before he returns to your side.

“I just want to sleep, Aar. Please.” 

“Baby,” he says, a fond little pleading note in his tone. “We just changed the sheets. Do you really want to get semtex all over them?” 

With a huff - “No.” 

He smiles and helps you to your feet. “Didn’t think so.” 

You’re so tired, it doesn't even cross your mind to take advantage of the shared shower or his lack of clothes. By the time he dries you off, tucks you in, and locks the bedroom door to ward off the over-eager six-year-old down the hall, you’re asleep. 

His own exhaustion pulling at him, he doesn’t have the time or energy to cherish how peaceful, safe, and warm you look. He just draws you close to him until he can feel your heartbeat. 

Sleep takes him rapidly after that. 

+++

As Will and JJ exchange their vows, you tuck further into Aaron’s arms. His whisper floats past your ear, barely audible. “Wanna do that sometime?”

“What? Get married?” Your voice is just as quiet. 

“Mhmm.”

“Only if it’s you.”

There’s a kiss pressed to your temple with a smile behind it. “I think I can make that happen.”

You turn your head to the side to keep your snark from carrying. “Please don’t propose to me right now. This weekend’s been long enough.”

Derek kicks the side of your foot from where he stands beside you, unable to hear the conversation but knowing you both well enough to keep you from tumbling down the rabbit hole of distraction. 

Aaron presses another kiss to your temple. “I love you.” You feel it rather than hear it.

You pick up one of his hands and kiss the back of it. You don’t need to say anything. 

+++

Aaron holds you close as you dance together, surrounded by your family. JJ and Will sway back and forth nearby, wrapped entirely in each other. Erin and Dave have been surprisingly brave, dancing and laughing quietly together throughout the evening. 

As nice as it was to just have something for the two of you, sharing your love with your family has its own set of perks. You don’t have to hide anymore or justify your pigheaded protection of the other. 

You can just… be. 

+++

Eventually, Dave calls all the “...fortunately unmarried individuals to the dance floor,” and refuses to let anyone slip through the cracks. 

When Aaron hangs back, drink in-hand and a little smile on his face, Dave calls him out. “Divorcés and widowers, too, c’mon.” He pauses, finding another tactic when Aaron doesn’t move. “If you’re both, you get extra points!” 

Aaron rolls his eyes and you look around, finding an inappropriate amount of humor in JJ’s confused relatives. You can’t help but bark a loud laugh when you see how hard Derek’s trying to keep his mirth at bay.

Too soon for the dead wife jokes? He seems to ask. Can I laugh? 

Something in your eyes gives him tacit permission and he nearly blinds you with his smile. 

When Dave’s tricks fall short, you do your best to pull Aaron from the sideline with your best set of bedroom eyes. He courageously resists, so you give up and settle next to Anderson. “What do you think Dave’s come up with, this time?” 

“God only knows.” 

Anderson, like the rest of you, knows that Dave’s hosting abilities know no bounds. 

“Because so many of you are joyfully unmarried, the newlyweds wanted to make sure there was someone else to suffer the slings and arrows of matrimony with them in the near future. Thus,” he opens his arm to JJ, who appears with her bouquet and a smile, “the bouquet toss will be an equal-opportunity event.” 

With a laugh and a shake of your head, you prepare to duck out of the way. 

You look over at Aaron. This is ridiculous. 

He only shakes his head, hiding his smile behind his drink. And yet…

He leaves the rest of the implication unsaid, but you flip him off for good measure. Your exchange must have taken longer than you thought because before you know it, you have a face full of white roses. It’s over. 

You pull the flowers from your face and level JJ with a glare across the dance floor. “Really?” 

She raises her eyebrows and shrugs. “I turned my back and everything.” 

There are whoops and hollers from your team and you can only roll your eyes. Derek and Will strong-arm Aaron onto the dance floor (you know he let them - if he really wanted to avoid you, they wouldn’t be able to move him an inch), where you’re both cajoled into a kiss and a photo. Penelope’s on the other side of the camera, grinning from ear to ear. 

She waves at Aaron over the camera. “Smile for real, damn you!” 

She amends, adding, “Sir,” for good measure. It has its intended effect and she’s rewarded with a rare, bright laugh from her unit chief. 

Absurd traditions aside, you’d be lying if said you stopped smiling even once. 

+++

As the party settles, some couples stay out on the dance floor, sedately twirling and swaying to the music that continues to play across the yard. 

You and Aaron have relaxed significantly since the Great Bouquet Debacle, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. You’re sitting across his lap, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around your middle and the other draped over your knees - the picture of relaxation. 

Penelope, Derek, Emily, and Will have taken up residence on the other side of the dance floor, their heads close together and voices low.

Aaron’s eyes slide over them as he watches the room, scanning out of habit. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

You lean further into him as four pairs of eyes flicker over to you before returning to their huddle. “Us, probably.” 

He hums, understanding and pensive. “Probably our sex life, right?” 

“Probably,” you sigh, playing at boredom. He covers your hand with one of his and you play with his fingers - lacing, unlacing, kissing his knuckles. 

It’s nice to feel safe, comfortable enough to love each other where curious eyes can see you. 

You can feel his smile against your forehead as he presses a kiss between your brows.  

“I mean,” you continue, “there is a lot to talk about.”

He shrugs, adjusting his arm where it lays across your legs to keep you both comfortable in the seat you share. “That’s true enough. Though, I can’t imagine any of their projections being right.”

+++

“I bet they’re into like…tantric sex. Like hours and hours and hours you know?” Penelope says, conspiracy the top note in her tone. 

Derek looks at her and she backtracks, only a little on the defensive. 

“What? Spencer’s talked to me about it before and I...read.” 

He rolls his eyes, but Emily spares Penelope from any further interrogation. 

“I could see that.” She watches the way your fingers wander over Aaron’s bare forearm, playing with the ridges of his watch, the way his thumb absent-mindedly draws small circles on your outer thigh. “Yeah, actually I think that’s exactly what happens.”

+++

“What do you think they’ve got so far?” 

He plays at boredom. “They’re probably trying to take a guess at anything they can reach - with both of our profiles in Derek’s pocket, he’s going to have the most luck, I think.” 

“Really?” You ask. “Not Emily?” 

He snorts. “No. She has her mind on other things.” 

That holds you up for a second, and you’re not sure if he’s still playing into the bit. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later.” 

“She’s resigning, isn’t she?” You give up the fun and lay your head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. 

Without thinking, his hand rises to your cheek, affectionately brushing over your cheekbone before dropping back down. “She might be.” 

“Did she do that thing where she sighs really big and then looks off to the upper right middle distance?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Shit.” 

You’re both quiet for a moment, just enjoying the low lull of the music and the lights and the sights and smiles of your family. 

“Hey.” 

You lean back a little and meet Aaron’s eyes. “Yeah?” 

“What’s my tell?” 

The concern drops out of your face all at once. “You think I’m gonna spill just like that so you can go and change it on me? Not a chance.” 

He sighs and his chin tips up in defeat. “So I have one?” 

“Of course you do, stupid.” You flick his chest and a laugh rumbles through him. “Everyone does. You know mine, I know yours. You’re gonna have to get over it.” 

“So you’ve caught me in lies before?” He asks, not without humor. 

“Duh. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught every lie you’ve ever told, but you seemed so proud of yourself that I just let you have it.” 

You can almost feel the eye roll. “Really?” He sounds skeptical. “Name one lie you’ve caught me in.” 

“Alright.” You count off on your fingers. “You dinged my car door a couple of weeks ago, you definitely didn’t drop the bags at Goodwill, you do know it wasn’t Jack who finished the ice cream in the freezer, you -” 

“Okay.” He covers your hands with his and kisses your fingers. “That’s enough. I get it.” 

You kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ve caught me in every single lie I’ve ever told, too, huh?” 

“Only every once since the day we met. Yours is obvious.” 

It’s a trap. You don’t take it. “Hmm. That’s convenient.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

You lean back to look at him. “You’re a shit, you know that?” 

He nods and raises his eyebrows, a cheeky, close-mouthed smile slowly creeping across his face. 

You playfully smack his chest with the back of your hand. “Fucker.” 

He says something under his breath and you level him with a look that has him repeating himself. 

“I said, you wish.” 

You roll your eyes and tuck back into his neck, kissing the skin above his collar. You can feel him shiver and you know you’ve got him. “Not just wish, honey. Know.” 

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @davidrossi-ismydad @angelsbabey @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @bwbatta @wakatoshislover @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @mandylove1000 @qvid-pro-qvo @jeor @spencers-hoodrat @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @this-broken-band-girl @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @winqhster @arthurmorrgans @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me @ssworldofsw  @deagibs @crazyshannonigans @moonshinerbynight @jhiddles03 @teamhappyme @mendesmelodies @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bispences @thebivirgin

[akakeiiji]

this is kind of a weird request so sorry in advance and you don't have to write it if you don't want to of course!!! but could i get hcs for atsumu, oikawa, and terushima with a lesbian best friend? i feel like lesbian + flirty boy is such a power duo because she can give girl advice and they don't have to worry about feelings making things awkward dhkshdkdh sorry again!!

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS REQUEST FBWBBDSF I love the dynamic these three would have with a lesbian best friend, it would be so chaotic, I love it. I based some of these with how I am with my guy friends, I’m not a lesbian but I’m close enough HAHAHA

Also, happy pride you guys 🥺💕  from your local chaotic bi

✂︎・・・masterlist

-`,✎ Atsumu, Oikawa and Terushima with a lesbian best friend

Miya Atsumu

You guys are like the ultimate power couple except you aren’t a couple

Everyone thinks you guys are dating at first because Atsumu isn’t the type who’s openly close and touchy with a girl but when he’s with you, you two are basically attached by the hip, even more so than he is with his brother

But surprise!! You’re gay as gay can be

When you first told him, he didn’t even bat an eye

“I already knew.”

“What?? How?”

“I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR YEARS, YOU THINK I WOULDN’T NOTICE!?”

But he’s so genuinely happy you trusted him enough to tell him, also he was beginning to worry you were going to tell Osamu first

He’s surprisingly the most supportive best friend ever

If anyone ever tries to give you shit for your sexuality then they will have to face the wrath of an angered Atsumu (+Osamu ofc)

He was already pretty blunt with his words to begin with, just imagine him angry

You two do this thing where you sit somewhere in public, usually munching on snacks from the convenience store, people watching

When I say people watching, I mean checking girls out

“Look over there, she’s cute.”

“Ew, she’s way out of your league.”

“What do you mean?!”

He’d smack your ice cream to the ground when you say this and he’d have to buy you a new one after you started smacking him with your bag

He’ll never admit it to anyone except you but he sucks with girls

THEY FALL FOR HIM LEFT AND RIGHT AND HE CAN DEAL WITH FANGIRLS BUT WHEN HE ACTUALLY LIKES SOMEONE HE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO

Basically: He’s a dork

He goes to you for love advice, mostly because he trusts you and because he knows there’ll be less teasing (Osamu would never let him hear the end of it)

Plus you have more experience than Osamu hehe

He’d drape himself over your lap as you’re working and tell you about all his woes

“Why do I keep scaring her off?”

“Listen, Tsumu, you just gotta cut the sarcasm and try not to sound condescending all the time.”

“I don’t sound condescending all the time!”

“Are you deaf??”

Not gonna lie, people are lowkey intimidated by you two

He’s pretty protective of you, like in an older brother type of way

Listen he knows that guys are trash but he knows how ruthless girls can be, he doesn’t want to see you get hurt

He ends up unintentionally scaring away other girls from you which you def weren’t happy about

Oikawa Tooru

His fangirls hate you with a burning passion

You’re the one girl he’s completely let into his life, you were one of his closest friends

He was just drawn to you, you know? You two just clicked immediately

Mostly because you both radiated the same crackhead energy

But also because you weren’t the same as the other girls in his school, you didn’t look at him with this starstruck look in your eyes like he was some idol, you saw him for who he really was

That sounds so sappy, he would never tell you any of this, you’d tease him too much

He’s so cute though, he calls you his platonic soulmate

He’s a super affectionate person

He always has his arm around your shoulder or linked with your own, another reason why his fangirls have it out for you

WHAT THEY DIDN’T KNOW WAS THAT YOU WERE MORE INTO THE THEM THAN YOU WERE INTO OIKAWA

Subconsciously, Oikawa knew that you would never fall for him and he loved that about your relationship, he didn’t worry about you becoming a fangirl or losing the bond you two shared because of awkwardness

But he just thought it was because you really only saw Oikawa as a friend and not because you were gay

When you did tell him, he was so surprised and he internally slapped himself because “I should have known!!” He knows you better than anyone, why didn’t he see the signs??

He’s so great about it though, he immediately takes you in his arms and tells you that you’re amazing and thanks you for telling him

“(Y/N) this is so great, it means we have more in common!”

If anyone, I mean anyone, whether it be fangirl or classmate or stranger on the street, says anything bad about you he will not hesitate to throw some hands

Listen, Oikawa may have a reputation to uphold but if anyone talks shit about his best friend then he’s going to go feral

You were definitely Oikawa’s go-to for girl advice

When he had a crush, when he didn’t know how to deal with his fangirls, when his girlfriend dumped him, you were the first one he went to

“I can’t believe she broke up with me.”

“Pfft, you could do better. I told you not to date her.”

“Would you have dated her?”

“I mean she was hot but come on, she was a bitch.”

sorry i just hate his ex-girlfriend even tho we dont even know her

Okay but you two are like this ultra attractive chick magnet when you’re together

You’re probably popular at school if you have Oikawa by your side 24/7, you probably have your own fangirls too

Terushima Yuuji

Funny story, you and Terushima first became friends after he hit on you during your first year

“Hey, couldn’t help noticing you earlier, I’m Terushima but you can call me babe.”

“Okay, first of all, I’m gay. Second, what the hell was that pick up line? You’re never going to get anyone’s attention if that’s the best you’ve got.”

You two immediately became best friends

Your friendship mainly consisted of you teaching Terushima how to actually pick up girls at first but you two still stuck with each other even after he mastered the art that is being a fuckboy

i love him so much but come on, he’s a total fuckboy

Now your relationship mainly consists of vine references and you trying to revoke your knowledge of picking up girls from him

You regret teaching him those things all those years ago

In all seriousness though, you two are basically family to one another, he trusts you completely

And yeah, needless to say, he is totally supportive of you and loves you unconditionally

At first glance, you two look like an overly touchy couple, he always has his arm draped around you and isn’t afraid to kiss you on the cheek and forehead

He’s constantly surrounded by a whole number of girls but he always tells people that you’re his #1

You two constantly have these moments where you’re both out and a pretty girl walks by and you both just halt to a stop and check her out

Afterward, you both turn towards each other and freak out over how attractive she was

“Holy shit, (Y/N) she’s wearing a bi flag bracelet, go get her number.”

He always tries to set you up with other girls, you don’t even ask him to but he does anyways

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Perfect, you have a date at 2, she'll pick you up at your place.”

“Wait, what—”

However, if you ever like someone then your boi Terushima will be your ultimate wingman

He just wants to see you happy okay?

So he will do absolutely anything to help you get your girl, no doubt about it

WILL FIGHT ANYONE FOR YOU

If anyone tries to hurt you then he’s gonna call the bois and beat them up, he will not let them slide

He will definitely go to pride with you, he’ll arrive clad in full rainbow attire

“What do you mean you won’t wear the matching rainbow cape, (Y/N) I paid good money for this.”