#of how the circumstances for this to happen emerged in the first place

[swagcheesecakemaker]

Do you think Raph sometimes curled in a spiky ball around the baby?

Also I have some thoughts™ about this so the process of curling in a said ball is under the cut.

And in the tags

Yep I got dramatic in the tags don't mind me

@somerandomdudelmao look what you're doing to people /aff

The healthy thing to do is to forcefully replace your frustration with righteous anger. Always works.

It's extremely messy and I'm so not sorry about this I have never drawn anything faster. Ever.

Thank you for your amazing series, Cass <3

[fandoms-x-reader]

Unpredictable

Requested By: @beawesome04

Summary: The brothers and dateables reactions to an MC whose magic is hard to control and tends to have unpredictable consequences when they use it. The Seven Demons Brothers x Reader Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, & Solomon x Reader Word Count: 6,560

Solomon had promised you that everything would be alright when he first suggested teaching you magic.

Solomon was clearly a renowned sorcerer so you believed that he would be an excellent teacher in the matter.

But, Solomon was a very unpredictable person, and as such his magic lessons tended to be a bit unpredictable as well.

He had asked you to summon one of the brothers as a test of your ability, swearing that it would be a simple summoning spell.

You wanted to choose which brother you summoned with your pact, but that choice wasn’t given to you as all of the brothers seemed to be doing something at the current moment.

The only one who wasn’t busy was the strictest one - Lucifer.

You did everything you could to try to persuade Solomon to let you skip the lesson on summoning for now, but he refused to back down.

Before you knew it, you were saying the chant to summon the firstborn.

You swore you said and did everything correctly and when Lucifer suddenly appeared in front of you, you were relieved that you had done it.

But, that relief quickly faded when you took a better look at Lucifer.

He had a bewildered look on his face, clearly confused as to why he was just summoned, but more than that, most of his features had changed color.

His skin color, eye color, and hair color matched yours to the exact shade. 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as Solomon stifled his laughter from beside you.

You hoped that you could fix the situation before Lucifer saw what had happened but luck once again proved to not be on your side as you noticed a mirror conveniently placed in the room.

As soon as Lucifer saw himself in the mirror, his expression changed to one of anger and you could tell he was holding back one of his infamous lectures.

He was the one who encouraged you to work with Solomon on your magic so he could hardly be upset if things didn’t go right the first time, but changing his appearance was also not something he could tolerate.

“I’ll fix it, I promise!” you swore, coming up next to Lucifer who was now standing in front of the mirror.

You let out a small gasp as you came to the mirror, realizing that not only did Lucifer have your colored features, but you had his. Your hair was as dark as a raven’s and your eyes as red as blood.

Lucifer couldn’t help but take in your appearance as well, noting that under better circumstances, your appearance matching his own would drive him absolutely crazy.

Solomon’s chuckle brought Lucifer back to reality and he turned to look at the sorcerer.

Lucifer demanded Solomon to fix this mess and once that was done, Lucifer made sure to give you both a good lecture on the intricacies of magic and the consequences of doing it improperly.

Of course, you didn’t end up in any real trouble, but he did make you promise not to summon him again unless it was a real emergency.

Mammon’s experience with your unpredictable magic was entirely his own fault.

You had tried explaining to him on multiple different occasions that you were not fully trained and that you were still learning how to control your magic.

You only knew a few basic spells and you hadn’t even learned how to perfect those yet.

But, as usual, when Mammon had something on his mind, everything went in one ear and out the other.

And, your inexperience in magic was no exception.

Mammon had come up with a brilliant idea to use your magic to help him cheat at the casino so that he could “win big”.

Everything about the scheme seemed like a terrible idea, so naturally you declined.

But, Mammon was persistent and begged you to help him until you caved.

The casino wasn’t the regular one that Mammon went to. This one was on a nice ship and it was one that was only passing through.

It was perfect because even if they caught Mammon cheating, they wouldn’t be around past that one night.

You sat at the bar while Mammon went to the tables to play. He thought that if the two of you were standing next to each other the entire time, it would be easier to spot that he was cheating.

You had no expectations of this working, but you gave it your best shot anyway.

All you had to do was change the cards in Mammon’s hand to ones that he could win with.

You chanted a spell quietly under your breath and then watched intensely as Mammon turned over the cards in his hands, revealing a winning hand. 

You let out a small chuckle, surprised at the results and Mammon looked at you from the table, a happy-go-lucky smile on his face as he sent you a wink.

You continued to say the same spell, and to your surprise, Mammon was gathering a large sum of money. Everything was going well.

��Hey, are you using magic?” you heard someone say as they roughly grabbed your arm, making you snap your eyes open.

Magic was strictly prohibited at the casino because people could easily use it to cheat.

You were trying to come up with a reasonable excuse when you felt a familiar hand grab yours and pull you towards him.

“Time to run!” Mammon told you, pulling you past people, his winnings tucked into his arm as he held onto them for dear life.

“You’ve gotta use your magic to block ‘em!” Mammon told you, noticing a few of the security detail closing in on the two of you. 

You meant to move the furniture around to block the path after the two of you, but instead, you sent the furniture flying in every which way.

You heard people screaming and running as they tried to dodge the flying tables and chairs that were now putting holes into the walls of the ship. “Whoops,” you said under your breath.

“Watch out!” Mammon yelled. You turned to look in front of you and noticed someone almost grabbed you.

You moved your hand in panic and watched as the demon went flying overboard. “Sorry!” you shouted after him.

“We’re gonna have to jump. Can you make a boat?’ Mammon asked, not waiting for you to answer before jumping off the ship and bringing you along.

A yacht would have done or even a canoe or a raft, but it seemed the more panicked you were, the more unpredictable your magic was.

Suddenly, a massive pirate ship appeared out of thin air and you hit the deck with a small thud as you felt like you could finally breathe again.

Somehow, the ship was steering itself away from the casino ship, but you weren’t about to start asking questions.

You let out a small breath of relief and you heard Mammon suddenly burst into laughter beside you. “Your magic - is really - somethin’,” he told you, nearly crying from laughing so hard.

You gave him a playful smack but couldn’t help but smile at how hard he was laughing.

Next time, you were going to make sure you were fully in control before agreeing to use your magic.

Levi was not one that liked to get in trouble with Lucifer.

Typically, he just tried to keep his head down and do his own thing.

As long as he could be a proper otaku, he was okay.

He didn’t feel the need to get you involved in schemes like his other brothers did.

In fact, he had made a promise to himself to never make you use your magic unless it was an absolute emergency.

And those last six words were key in his promise.

Because an incredibly rare new Ruri-chan figurine had just been released and it was going at an unbelievably fast rate for an incredibly high price.

Normally, Levi would have money saved up for this precise situation, but he had lent some to Mammon, mostly to get him to stop asking, and his older brother hadn’t paid him back yet.

Of course, Levi had done everything from begging and pleading to threatening Mammon to get his money back, but there was no money to give.

So, with no one else to turn to for help, he went to his true friend.

He would never beg you for money like a certain scumbag.

Instead, he just wanted you to use your magic to help him get one of the figurines.

He figured between his hacking skills and your magic, there was no way the two of you wouldn’t be able to swindle one.

You reluctantly agreed to help Levi, knowing how much it meant to him to get the figurine.

You didn’t know exactly what spell you were supposed to say, but you followed Levi’s lead.

He clearly had a plan and nothing would stop him from executing it.

You did as Levi asked and held your breath as you stared at the computer screen.

“Thank you for your purchase,” soon popped up on the screen and Levi let out a shout of triumph while you let out a breath of relief. Finally, your magic went the right way.

Suddenly a loud spark sounded from the computer and you and Levi shared an uneasy look. Spoke too soon.

The spark was followed by multiple smaller ones and then suddenly Levi’s entire computer was on fire.

“What do we do?” you asked Levi who was panicking at the thought of his entire setup going up in flames.

“Do a water spell,” he replied, his eyes wide, the fire reflecting off them.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you replied, looking at the consequences of the magic you had just performed.

The flames grew even larger, threatening to burn everything in sight; and, in an attempt to save his otaku haven, Levi did the only thing he thought was logical - he summoned Lotan.

And while it did stop the fire from spreading, summoning Lotan once again flooded the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer immediately knew the source. After all, there was only one brother who summoned Lotan.

Levi got his rare figurine, but you and Levi had to sit through an incredibly long lecture from Lucifer about using magic properly and not doing it for something as simple as a doll.

And after he said that, you had to listen to an even longer lecture from Levi, explaining to Lucifer how the figure he bought wasn’t a doll.

Satan was someone who was quite skilled in magic.

He studied spells and curses religiously, always trying to find one to use against Lucifer.

And because of his studying, he knew a lot about training someone in magic as well.

After all, he taught himself almost everything he knew about it.

And, Satan was having a hard time controlling his rage when it came to you and Solomon.

He knew that Solomon was only training you in magic, but in his opinion, the two of you were spending way too much time together.

And the fact that the two of you were always alone together with no one to keep Solomon in check drove Satan crazy.

So, he decided to take some of your training upon himself.

Naturally, you were grateful for the opportunity. After all, everyone knew how talented Satan was in everything he did.

Not to mention, there were a few other times Satan had tutored you in other subjects. So you were sure he would be an excellent teacher of magic.

He would never tell you this, but Satan wore a smug smile the whole day you agreed to let him teach you.

He was just hoping Solomon would ask him why Satan was smiling.

The two of you agreed to meet in one of the magic classrooms after school. They would already have any spellbooks or ingredients the two of you needed and they were well-built in case something went wrong.

You sat down at one of the desks and began reading one of the spellbooks.

Satan sat down next to you, taking a peek at what you were reading. “Has Solomon been teaching you a lot of spells?” he asked.

You looked up from your book and softly shook your head no. “Not really, he’s more of the experiment and see what happens type than following spells in a spellbook,” you replied.

Satan let out a small chuckle before saying, “For someone just learning magic, the results must be a bit unpredictable.”

You chuckled in response before nodding your head and telling him, “You have no idea.”

Satan then gently took the spellbook from you and began flipping through it.

You leaned in a bit closer, taking a look over his shoulder as he skimmed through the pages, looking for the perfect spell.

“Here, this one is simple,” Satan told you and you read through it briefly.

It was simple candle magic. All you had to do was light a candle.

Satan got the candle and placed it in front of you and you followed the spell exactly how it was written in the spellbook.

You closed your eyes to focus and then opened them again to light the candle.

Instead of lighting the candle, you managed to create a large fireball that flew through the classroom and burned a hole in the wall in front of you.

You winced at the damage and then turned to look at Satan who was staring at the hole with wide eyes, temporarily at a loss for words.

You were getting more and more anxious the longer Satan remained silent, unsure if he was going to laugh, get angry, or give you a long lecture.

After another moment, Satan took in a deep breath before locking eyes with you and telling you, “No more training with Solomon.”

You let out a small sigh, once again taking in the destruction you caused before replying, “Fair enough.”

Because Asmo and Solomon had a strong friendship, it was common for Asmo to be at your magic lessons.

He usually wasn’t listening to what you were being taught. Instead, he would do his nails in the background or start planning his next social media video.

Of course, he would take intermittent breaks from doing his own things to be your own personal cheerleader, encouraging you as much as he could.

And if you were ever starting to get tired, Asmo would be the first to tell Solomon the lesson was over for the day because you needed rest.

Because Asmo was hanging around the two of you often, it also made him the perfect test subject.

Today, you were working a potion to bring someone good luck and fortune.

Solomon had been a little lenient on the ingredients that you were using, wanting to see if you would be able to create the potion on your own, using your own intuition.

You were completely against the idea but Solomon swore that you wouldn’t be able to do magic on your own if you didn’t learn how to be independent with it instead of following a spellbook.

His logic made some sense, but you were also beyond nervous. 

All you had to do was make the potion and then get Asmo to drink it.

Asmo, having not listened to what was going on, was more than happy to try your potion, accepting it as a gift from you.

You watched in anticipation as Asmo downed the mysterious liquid.

Asmo let out a small cough after drinking it, telling you, “It has a good kick to it.”

You held your breath as a pink mist slowly surrounded Asmo and in the blink of an eye, Asmo was no longer standing there.

In his place, on the ground, sat a beautifully made wicked cupcake.

Solomon took a step closer before crouching down and examining the cupcake, letting out a quiet sound of questioning.

“What were you thinking about when you made the potion?” Solomon asked you, glancing up at you from his spot on the ground.

“I was thinking about what you told me. In order to make a good potion of fortune, you have to think of the person you intend on giving the potion to and what would bring them fortune,” you replied.

“What do you think would make Asmo more fortunate?” Solomon questioned curiously.

“Being more irresistible,” you answered.

“As irresistible as a wicked cupcake?” Solomon asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you, a hint of a smile on his face.

You let out a small gasp as you realized you had turned your friend into a cupcake.

“Is it reversible?” you asked Solomon and he nodded his head, standing up to his original position.

Solomon chanted a spell quietly and you watched as Asmo slowly morphed back into himself.

When he was fully back, you and his locked eyes, and you immediately began apologizing.

Asmo stopped you after your third apology and told you, “How about we just save your potions for Mammon from now on, ‘kay?”

You were in your bedroom, studying hard for an upcoming exam when there was suddenly a knock on your door.

You invited the person in without getting up or even looking up from your book.

So, it wasn’t until they were sitting down next to you that you were able to see who it was.

A small smile formed on your lips as you saw the orange-haired Avatar of Gluttony sitting there with an unusually large pouty look on his face.

“Are you okay?’ you asked him and his big puppy dog eyes looked up at you as he shook his head no.

“I ate everything in the fridge and Lucifer said that I couldn’t eat anymore until dinner,” Beel replied.

“Well, dinner is just in a couple of hours. You should be fine, right?” you questioned, and Beel let out a small sigh.

“I worked out twice as hard today to get ready for the big game. So, my appetite is twice as big and I only had half the amount of food I usually would post-workout,” Beel explained.

As if to confirm what Beel was saying, his stomach let out an unnaturally loud growl and Beel winced slightly in pain from the hunger.

“I’m sorry Beel, if I had any snacks in here, I would give them to you,” you told him and he let out another sigh as his mind began turning.

“Maybe you could make a snack appear,” Beel suggested, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

You immediately understood where he was going with this and you shook your head, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please, it could be something small. Just to help me last until dinner,” Beel begged you, desperation shining in those big eyes. 

You fully intended to stay away from magic today and just focus on your actual studies, but how could you say no to him when he was begging you so wholeheartedly? 

You took a moment to prepare yourself before doing a spell, and Beel watched your every move eagerly.

Once the spell was completed, you were expecting a small meal on the table, or at the most a couple of things.

Instead, your entire room was covered from floor to ceiling in food.

Beel’s eyes widened in excitement as he told you, “You’re the best at magic.”

He immediately got to eating, and you let out a small chuckle. Of all the consequences that came from your magic, this wasn’t too bad - as long as Beel ate all of it before Lucifer found out.

Suddenly, you heard a lot of commotion coming from elsewhere in the House of Lamentation. You and Beel stayed quiet to try and focus on the noises you were hearing.

Only then did you realize the other brothers were shouting about how the entire House of Lamentation had been filled with food.

You and Beel shared a look of panic as you heard a familiar set of footsteps coming your way and you knew that another long lecture was just around the corner.

Belphie liked to be a little more hands-on with his magic than simple spells.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

He and Satan were up to true Anti-Lucifer League business and they had found the perfect spell to try and prank Lucifer with. 

Belphie gathered all the ingredients and it was up to Satan to actually perform the spell since he was more proficient when it came to magic.

Somehow, like always, Lucifer had caught wind that the two of them were up to something and Lucifer had decided to lock Satan in his room for the time being under the pretense that, “He was too busy right now to have to deal with something childish.”

This naturally only made Belphie and Satan even more angry and now they were hellbent on finding some way to get revenge. 

Belphie still had all of the ingredients and so he approached you - someone who was both in the Anti-Lucifer League and learning magic.

You were already treading in deep water with Lucifer because of your previous magic mishaps. 

You were pretty sure that you were one more mistake from him banning you from using magic ever again.

So, the last thing you wanted to do was use a spell that specifically targeted the eldest.

But, Belphie was very convincing and before you knew it, the two of you were in the Assembly Hall, quietly scheming.

The spell itself was simple enough to cast. All you had to was put the ingredients together and then cast it on the intended victim’s chair. 

Then, when that person sat in the chair, vines would slowly wrap around them, entrapping them in the chair.

You had suggested that you perform the spell on the chair in Lucifer’s study but Belphie thought it would be so much funnier if it happened in front of Lord Diavolo.

This left the two of you trying to quickly get this spell done in the Assembly Room because Diavolo and Lucifer could walk in any second.

“That’s all of the ingredients,” Belphie told you and you nodded your head, knowing it was your turn now.

You began chanting the spell and everything was going smoothly.

Right as you were stating the last part of the spell, you suddenly heard voices outside the door of the Assembly Hall.

You faltered at the idea of being caught, and in that moment you had turned away from the chair slightly as you finished the spell.

Suddenly, you heard a strangled shout from Belphie and immediately looked in his direction, only to find that you were already facing him. 

You realized you had cast the spell at him, and instead of a chair turning into vines and trapping him, they came down from the ceiling, wrapping him up and suspending him from the roof and covering his mouth.

You let out a small gasp, somewhat stifling some laughter as you watched the youngest squirm in the air, doing whatever he could to get out of his restraints.

You didn’t have enough time to help him before you heard the door to the Assembly Hall open and you quickly hid, knowing that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if you got caught.

You covered your mouth to stay silent and you listened as Barbatos, Diavolo, and Lucifer all seemed to be in conversation. 

All conversation stopped though the moment they laid eyes on Belphie, helplessly strung up from the ceiling.

Lucifer let out a long sigh as he stared at his brother before sitting down in his chair.

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Diavolo asked but Lucifer shook his head.

“This is his own fault, I’m sure of it. Let’s continue with the meeting,” Lucifer replied and you once again had to stifle your laughter at the thought of Belphie hanging from the air, slightly swinging with a look of rage on his face as he attempted to curse Lucifer.

Diavolo had heard about your unfortunate magic mishaps from Lucifer a few different times.

And every time, Diavolo laughed wholeheartedly as Lucifer explained exactly what happened.

He found it both amusing and endearing that your magic was so unpredictable.

And he had to admit he was starting to feel a little left out that everyone was getting to have such fun experiences with you except him.

He wanted a chance to experience your magic for himself, so he invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

He told you that he simply wanted to evaluate your progress in magic, even though he had gotten plenty of progress reports from the eldest demon brother.

He invited you into one of the many rooms of the Demon Lord’s Castle.

Despite most of the rooms being completely furnished, this room was nearly empty - perfect for magical misfires.

He tried to remind himself to breathe as you began performing a spell, waiting on the edge of his seat for what was about to happen.

There was something exciting about not knowing what events were about to occur.

Diavolo asked you to perform a simple teleportation spell.

You tried and tried, but every time you opened your eyes, you and Diavolo were still in the Demon Lord’s Castle.

You let out a sigh after the fifth attempt and Diavolo gave you a supporting smile.

“Maybe some fresh air will help,” Diavolo suggested, motioning for you to follow him. 

You nodded your head and followed him to the door of the castle, but when he opened it, you realized that none of the surroundings outside looked normal.

Diavolo froze for a moment, noticing the same thing you did, and as he tried to piece together where the two of you were, you realized that the teleportation spell did work.

But, instead of teleporting the two of you like you were supposed to, you teleported the entire castle.

You held your breath as you waited for Diavolo to say something, and when he didn’t, you were afraid he was mad at you.

You were about to ask him as much when he started laughing. It started as a small chuckle, but by the end of it, he was practically doubled over from laughing so hard.

“This is fantastic,” you heard him mutter under his breath before he turned to you, closing the door.

“Try and get us back to the Devildom,” Diavolo told you. 

You took in a deep breath, before reciting the spell, silently praying that it would work. 

Praying - that was a mistake.

As Diavolo opened the door again, you realized that you recognized your surroundings this time, but it wasn’t the Devildom. It was the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo seemed a bit concerned as he looked around. “We should leave here immediately,” Diavolo stated, shutting the door and letting out a small sigh.

Your hands shook slightly as you realized the mistake of bringing the ruler of the Devildom to the Celestial Realm and you quickly recited the spell again, desperate to get out of there.

This time, when Diavolo opened the door, you heard a terrible screeching followed by a large fireball flying toward you and Diavolo.

He quickly shut the door, barely saving both of your lives and you chanted the spell one last time.

You let out a deep breath of relief as you saw the usual Devildom surrounding you when Diavolo opened the door this time. 

“I’m not doing that ever again,” you told him, feeling like you had just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring.

Diavolo let out another chuckle, a smile resting on his face as he looked at you. He clearly enjoyed himself.

He didn’t get the chance to enjoy himself much and he noticed that whenever he did, you were always somewhat involved.

“With more training, I’m sure you’ll get your powers under control,” Diavolo reassured you.

He wasn’t mad at you, but he also probably wouldn’t ask you to use your magic again until you’ve had a bit more practice.

A trip to the Celestial Realm and nearly getting incinerated was enough excitement to last him for a while.

Diavolo may not have been mad at what happened, but Barbatos certainly was.

He wasn’t mad at you - he could never be mad at you.

But, he was mad at Lord Diavolo. The young master knew how unpredictable your powers were and yet he still asked you to use them.

And he was the most mad at Solomon. Though, that was a grudge he had been holding onto for a while. Barbatos was always looking for a reason to be mad at Solomon.

And your lack of control in magic certainly qualified as one.

Solomon had been entrusted with teaching you magic since he was supposed to be a great and knowledgeable sorcerer.

But, Barbatos was beginning to doubt Solomon’s abilities.

And, since your magic had nearly gotten the young master killed, Barbatos could no longer let this slide.

Barbatos had invited you over to the Demon Lord’s Castle once again to try and teach you magic his way.

He was a very powerful demon himself and he knew how hard it was to control your powers.

It took him a long time and lots of experience before he was fully able to master his own powers.

And you had to admit, out of everyone, Barbatos had come the closest to getting you to perform magic without anything going wrong.

He had put every ounce into helping you concentrate and take slow, deliberate movements so that every single part of the spell was performed correctly.

It was a transfiguration spell. There was a cat statue in front of you and all you had to do was make it real.

But, when you opened your eyes, you realized the horror and chaos that you had created.

There wasn’t just one creature in front of you, but at least a dozen. And, they weren’t cats but rats. And there in the middle of it all sat Barbatos, his eyes wide and crazed.

You were certain he was about to freak out and you were proven correct as Barbatos suddenly stood up and sprinted out of the room, returning with the proper supplies to get rid of the rats.

He was frantically chasing them around the room and you felt terrible, so you attempted to help him.

You wanted to teleport the rats to the underground labyrinth but instead, you teleported yourself and Barbatos down there.

“At least I got the right location this time,” you said sheepishly as you looked at Barbatos who had a somewhat exasperated look on his face.

Before you knew what was happening, Barbatos had you locked down in his room, you presumed so that you couldn’t do any more damage.

It took him hours to get every last rat out of the castle and when he finally did, he returned to you in his room.

He seemed much calmer now that the rats were gone and he even brought you some tea to apologize for locking you in his bedroom.

He promised that he would help you get better control of your powers, but no more transfiguration spells until you completely mastered them.

Simeon had seen you at Purgatory Halls many times since you went there a lot for your magic lessons with Solomon.

But, Simeon rarely listened in on your lessons or watched you perform magic, so he had no idea if it was going well or poorly.

He assumed things were going well since there were no accidents that happened at Purgatory Hall.

But, that was mostly because when you went there, Solomon had you reading spell books and getting familiar with different types of spells.

He saved the actual practice of magic for the classrooms at school or outdoor areas - somewhere he believed it would be okay for a mishap to happen.

So, how was Simeon supposed to know your magic was unpredictable?

Luke’s birthday was coming up and Simeon wanted to surprise him by baking a special cake since Luke loved all things sweet.

Simeon knew how to bake a simple cake, but he didn’t think that would be enough.

He wanted something more extravagant - something that would surprise Luke.

So, he enlisted your help and asked you to help him bake the cake.

Simeon believed with your powers and his baking ability, the two of you could bake something that would truly surprise Luke.

And that’s what you thought about the entire time. In your mind, you wanted to surprise him by possibly creating a cake that reminded him of the Celestial Realm or one of his favorite things.

So, you were really disappointed when the cake came out looking like just an ordinary cake.

Simeon reassured you that it was fine and that you did your best. He promised you that it would taste great and Luke would love it anyway.

Everyone gathered in the Assembly Hall after school as a makeshift party for Luke and Simeon brought the cake before running off to fetch him.

The others complimented the cake that you and Simeon made and you thanked them kindly without giving them any more details.

After the experiences you and all of them had with your magic, you were sure that they would be afraid of any cake that was made with your magic.

So, you figured it would be better not to tell them about it. Besides, the cake came out completely normal, so no harm no foul, right?

Luke came into the Assembly Hall a bit timidly, afraid of why he was being summoned to a room full of the Devildom’s most powerful demons.

But, as he looked around, he quickly understood what was happening.

The smile on his face as he now confidently walked up to the rest of you was enough to make baking the cake worth it and you proudly presented him with the cake.

Everyone wished Luke a happy birthday and then you lit the candles and told him to make a wish and blow them out.

Luke did as he was told, but when he blew the candles out, he was met with disaster as the cake exploded.

Everyone in the room, including you, and most of the furniture was coated in both the cake and its frosting and other miscellaneous toppings.

You stood there, still holding the plate the cake was on and you realized that your powers did have an effect on the cake.

“Surprise,” you weakly said as everyone turned to face you. A deep blush coated your cheeks at the mistake, but thankfully, the cake hid most of it.

You sat down the plate that you were holding and attempted to fix the situation by using magic, but Solomon stopped you and performed the spell himself.

He knew that you could fix the situation if you were given the chance, but the look in Lucifer’s eyes after being covered in cake gave Solomon the feeling that he was about to lose it.

So, he performed the spell himself for your sake and miraculously the cake managed to come off the furniture.

Everyone had to go home to get the cake off themselves and you decided to go to Purgatory Hall with the angels and Solomon. You felt terrible about ruining Luke’s birthday cake.

Once you were all cleaned up, Simeon apologized for making you use your powers and explained that he didn’t realize they were a bit unpredictable.

He felt like he pressured you to use them but once you reassured him that you wanted to help do something nice, a lot of the weight was lifted off his shoulders.

He offered to bring you some books on magic from the Celestial Realm, hoping that there would be some different information in them that might help you learn to control your powers.

As for Luke, he didn’t understand why you had baked him an exploding cake, but he wasn’t angry and he was definitely surprised.

He just wished he had been able to eat a piece before it exploded everywhere.

Solomon had been hearing an earful from almost everyone about your magic training.

No one seemed to think he was doing a good enough job at helping you control your magic.

But they didn’t realize how hard it was to train someone in magic, let alone someone who was as powerful as you.

A lot of people thought that the unpredictable consequences of using your magic were mistakes but Solomon thought differently.

He thought it was a good thing for you to experience all the goods and bads of your magic.

It was the only way you were going to get a full grasp of your abilities and how powerful you were.

Solomon loved being experimental when it came to magic.

He didn’t give you spell books to read from or give you specific instructions on how to perform a spell.

If he did, then you would become dependent on those things, unable to perform a successful spell without wanting to refer to a book first.

Solomon wanted you to be able to figure things out for yourself - to be able to perform magic on your own without needing help from someone else, or a spell book.

And he always looked on the bright side of things if something did go wrong.

So what if you turned the cat statue into rats instead of a real cat? At least you were able to do a transfiguration spell.

And maybe you teleported the entire Demon’s Lord Castle to a few different places you didn’t mean to; but, most sorcerers have a hard time doing teleportation spells on themselves, let alone something so big.

Everything you did and every consequence that may have come from it was all a testament to your powers and it always made Solomon proud.

Because of the incessant lectures from the others, Solomon would do his best to help you control your powers.

But, he’ll never treat your mishaps as something negative. In fact, sometimes he even encouraged them.

There was one time that a potion you had been making accidentally backfired on Solomon rendering him unable to speak properly.

Every time he spoke, his words would get jumbled together so he couldn’t reverse the spell himself or tell you how to do it.

Eventually, you had to go to Satan to help and although he agreed, he gave Solomon a long “I told you so” conversation about how this is why he needed to be more proactive in helping you control your powers.

That was the closest Solomon ever came to being “upset” about something that happened with your magic, but even then it was just because of Satan’s speech.

There has never been a day where Solomon wasn’t grateful that he got the opportunity to teach you though.

Not only did he enjoy getting the chance to grow closer to you, but he had never met someone with such magic potential.

[manicpixievixen]

Open arms

Jason todd x gn!reader one-shot

Warnings: None really, the reader is still referred to as smaller than Jason and wearing a 'small pajama set', but other than that, it can be read as any gender.

Summary: Another one of Redhoods visits to your place, and he was always welcome. You give Jason a little talk about what you are to each other.

Wc: 2.1k masterlist

Jason had been stopping by your apartment for so long you could barely pinpoint the day it'd started. Like clockwork at increasingly late hours of the night, he would climb in through a purposefully open window and make his way inside. Sometimes getting caught in the drapes and hoping you hadn't noticed him clumsily swatting them away like a cat with its claw stuck in the window screen.

The memory of how this routine started was almost blurry in your head. It was so normal now, expected even. You'd known Jason separately from redhood for a while. One night, he couldn’t be bothered to go home and change just to keep his alter ego in hiding. You'd freaked out at the supposed stranger in your house before he took off the mask. And then it just kept happening.

Tonight was no different. In fact, if he hadn't shown up, you would've been concerned considering his recent consistency.

He grumbled some obscenities at the curtains that had gotten caught around him once again with the help of a gust of wind from the open window. Then once he'd escaped he stared down at the welcome mat you'd placed under the window, an amused sigh escaping from under the deep red helmet that's so often hiding his face.

He guessed maybe you'd gotten tired of his boots dirtying the floor when he visited, but not tired of him.

He limped ever so slightly as he left his boots behind on the little mat you'd layed out, moving towards the couch and shedding his helmet and gloves once he got there. They were supposed to protect him, but his bloodied knuckles said otherwise. Later, it would make you question just how overboard he could get on anger alone. You'd supposed it wasn't quite a problem in your circumstance, Jason almost made too much of an effort to be gentle on your part. He settled into the couch, not feeling too ashamed to be the occasional freeloader.

You emerged from your bedroom, having heard him curse a couple of times on his way in. “You need somethin’?” You asked quietly, entering with a blanket still wrapped around you. Formal greetings were long gone between the two of you.

He looks up at you, eyes half lidded. “Food.” His tone is tired. He's happy to see your face, the first friendly one in a while. He wonders if eventually he might poison your sweet attitude towards him, just by being around you, like maybe you might realize he's horrible and broken and not so apologetic for his actions as red hood.

"Please?" You ask, wrapping your blanket tighter around you as you look at his pale blue eyes for a response. He smiles at your encouragement, muttering a quiet but gruff ‘please’

You left him to settle down, returning with a plate for him. Nothing special at this hour, a sandwich would do. "Thanks." He spoke, taking the plate from your hands and practically shoving half of the sandwich in his mouth, from what you could observe he hadn't eaten all day.

"No one's gonna take it from you Jay." he'd forgotten how long he'd been waiting to hear that nickname again.

Jason freezes, he mumbles something unintelligible with a full mouth, finally swallowing and clearing his throat before replying. "Yeah, well. You never know in this city."

You'd been settled beside him, picking up his red hood helmet and inspecting it. As he ate his food, you slipped it on yourself. At first, he was going to ask you to take it off, and he still might. But you looked oddly cute with it, accompanied by a small pajama set.

He visibly looked you up and down, placing the plate down on the coffee table. His usual frown had softened slightly along with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Cute.” He finally mumbles, quiet as his eyes wander before meeting your own again.

"Really?" You ask, sort of encouraging, as if to tell him,'say that again.' He rolled his eyes at that, but his softened frown turned into a smirk pretty quickly. He shifted on the couch, pulling you to sit on his lap. His larger frame easily engulfed your smaller one as he held you.

One of his hands slowly traced the curve of your hip, sneaking under the hem of your sleep shorts just a little bit. “Yeah, really.” his eyes showed he meant it.

You reached both hands up to pull the helmet off, messing up your hair a little when you did so. “Things fucking uncomfortable.” You discarded it on the opposite side of the couch, enjoying your spot in his lap.

His hand moved to your hair, attempting to untangle a few pieces, pushing them away from your face. It eventually turned into a gentle caress of your cheek. “you looked cute though.” He teased, holding your hips gently and helping you straddle his lap, legs on either side of his thighs.

"What are you doing Jason?" You hadn't asked it like you were oblivious to his intentions or innocent. Just a sort of reality check, you'd been teetering on the edge of friends with benefits for a while. You were okay with letting him come and wind down and feel safe. You wanted him to be okay, but it was going to be rough if you only ever saw him during these times. Especially if you started really seeing each other.

He slung an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and keeping you in place on his lap. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He said above a soft whisper, but he couldn't possibly put your current situation into words. There wasn't ever going to be a good answer for what you had or would have with him.

"Blurring the lines?" You'd offered, even though you were absentmindedly doing the same, picking up his hand and running your fingers over his bruised and bloody knuckles.

He watched as your smaller hand held his own, his rough and battered knuckles meeting your soft skin. The contrast sent something through him, something he needed to feel more often. “maybe.” He mumbled in response. He'd tried to pull his hand away slowly. The feeling was nice, but something deeply rooted in his chest made him cringe at the way you were so soft on him, like he didn't need that treatment.

You'd noticed, telling him not to, by bringing that same hand up to your lips and leaving a soft kiss on each knuckle, your eyes not leaving his.

Jason swallowed hard at the continued soft feeling. There was a hint of something vulnerable in the usually stoic expression he wore. His lips parted slightly, trying to let out words that were caught in his throat, leaving an almost whimper in their place. He allowed his eyes to close for a second, his other hand gently exploring your thigh.

"Jay," you said quietly, as you dropped his hand and picked up the other, repeating the same actions. "You can come in here every night and blur the lines until there isn't any," you whispered, "but you better make some time to be something other than a visitor.” Jason's eyes moved with your lips as you spoke, tensing up underneath your warm body, his hand twitching at your careful touch. He swallowed again, his gaze continued to follow your lips, then back to your eyes.

His voice was a bit hoarse as he spoke. “I will.” His hands continued to rub up and down your thighs. You pushed yourself off of him. He'd almost let out a whine at the sudden lack of contact.

“go shower.” You mumbled, pressing your lips to his cheek. He sighed, reluctantly getting up.

“Bossy.” He mumbled in response, heading towards the bathroom, already pulling his shirt up as you relished in the sight of his muscular back. It was adorned in a couple of faded scars. You liked to trace your fingers over them in the darkness of your room.

"This is my house." You justified, beginning to walk back to your bedroom. You knew he would find you there when he was finished. He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see it.

"Then maybe you should show some hospitality." He teased, his voice slightly muffled by the sound of the running water.

The hot water was no match for your soft touch, but it still felt soothing to his sore muscles. His mind, however, was still somewhat occupied with your earlier words, going back to the feeling of your lips against his knuckles and your weight on his lap, and how your thighs felt resting against his own.

He left the washroom with a pair of sweats on and his hair sending water droplets down his toned chest. Jason paused outside the bedroom door, his hand hovering over the handle for a brief moment before he slowly opened it. He could see your figure laying on the bed, still awake, a lamp casting the most flattering warm light across your skin.

You lifted the blanket up, patting the spot beside you. Most times, he would sleep on the couch or leave before morning. Because of course, the odd relationship between you two was complicated. Sure, he'd spent a few nights on and off in your room, only in times where the city streets had been truly horrible to him. But you'd offered… He took a few slow steps forward, approaching the bed and joining you under the covers, accepting your invitation.

"Much better." You told him, running a hand through his damp hair, you'd always loved the bleached streak amongst the dark waves. He let out a barely audible grumble, shivering involuntarily at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. Jason shifted, turning to properly face you. One of his hands returning to his favourite spot on your hip.

"You gonna come over some time that isn't some odd hour of the night?" You asked, continuing the talk from earlier. "Maybe not leave before morning?”

Jason's grip on your hip tightened at the question, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before he looked at you again. His bottom lip caught between his teeth as he thought, shifting forward and resting against the crook of your neck, his lips gently pressing against your skin. "Maybe." He mumbled against your neck, almost as if to hide his face while his other hand continued tracing your body.

"I'm serious, Jay." You said, all but ignoring his hand grasping underneath your shirt."If this is all it's gonna be, it's not gonna be anything for much longer.”

His body shivered at those words, and he pushed himself farther into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin. He understood what you meant, and yet, admitting he did would make things so much more complicated. He liked the way you were with him now. He didn't need to change that. "I know." His words a whisper against the skin of your neck, his hand continuing to roam under the loose cotton of your sleep top.

"Next time I see you, better not be twelve at night in that goddamned mask." You said, holding onto his wrist, stopping his hand under your shirt so he would look at you.

He stilled again, letting you stop him. The beauty of your dynamic was the way he could rip his arm away in one action if he wanted to, but he would let you hold him down like this. He took in a sharp breath before sighing, lifting his head from your shoulder. His eyes met yours for the tenth time tonight. His blue stare held a guilty expression. "I'll try." He mumbled.

"You will." You agreed, dropping his wrist.

His eyes stayed locked onto yours, his expression still a mix of guilt and something foreign. He swallowed hard. "Promise." He whispered, his voice still hoarse. You nodded in acknowledgment at him, less serious now that the two of you had that talk.

His shoulders slumped, letting the tension of the discussion go. Easing upon seeing your approving nod. He very gently pulled your figure closer to him, muscular arms making contact with the small of your back. He rested his head on top of your own, burying his nose in your hair, taking in a now very recognizable scent.

It was his choice now, to return as Jason again. No red hood in sight. Through the door this time and not the window. You hadn't seen his old self in a long while. He knew either way he'd be welcomed with open arms, it was just a matter of what you were to each other.

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

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do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[thesoftuglywrites]

Like A Million Yen

Originally, I wanted to get this posted on the 31st of October… that clearly didn’t happen. Oh well.

Post-Shibuya!Nanami

Enjoy!

WC: 4.3 K

Panic overwhelmed you as you hurriedly scoured through the makeshift infirmary. The only sound registering in your ears was the thrumming of your erratic heartbeat and the rushing of blood.

You had known that Kento was called in to deal with an emergent mission that had suddenly sprung up on the both of you, but never in a million years could you have imagined something as grand-scale as this. The only thing that compared would probably have been the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons almost a year ago, but Kento managed to survive that situation relatively unscathed.

This time was different.

You had received the call from Yuuji, that Kento was severely injured and that you had to come quickly. The news, at first, startled you, but what scared you the most was how defeated and exhausted Yuuji’s voice sounded.

You acted fast, darting in and out of the curtained and sectioned off rooms, and past the lined up cots that held all of the other injured sorcerers and civilians. Though you couldn’t see yourself, you could only imagine how disheveled and wild you looked as you frantically searched for your husband.

“Mrs. Nanami!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, and turned to see Yuuji, all battered and cut up from the battle that had ensued. That he had survived.

You let out a breath of relief that you didn't even know that you were holding in, and rushed towards him, pulling him into your arms, and crushing him to your chest. You were grateful to see him on his feet, taking his appearance into consideration, of course, but you were thankful that he was alive and breathing, nonetheless.

"Thank God you're okay," you whispered, your hands tightly gripping at the back of his tattered uniform. You pulled away, and gently cupped the sides of his face. "Are you hurt?"

Yuuji, seemingly slipped into a dissociative state as he bore a thousand yard stare into your eyes as he looked back at you, blinked a couple of times as he was able register that you were speaking to him.

"I, uh... I'm fine Mrs. Nanami, I swear, " he stammered out, rather unconvincingly.

You were going to circle back to Yuuji whenever the circumstance would allow you to, but right now, you just wanted to be reunited with your husband more than anything.

"Yuuji, can you take me to Kento? I don't know where they're keeping him..." You've never sounded so small before. You hated it.

Yuuji grasped your wrist and led you to the farthest corner of the infirmary, guiding you to the end of a long line of curtained beds. You could feel your heart hammer against your chest the closer and closer you got to Kento, the beating sound beginning to overpower your sense of hearing. That's all you could really hear in that moment in time.

At the very end of the line, Yuuji stopped and pulled back the divider of the very last section, letting you go ahead of him into the tiny impromptu room. You hesitantly stepped in, your eyes landing on a figure that was laid on a cot.

As you approached, you could see that it was in fact Kento and that half of his body was wrapped up in white bandages, the other half was seemingly left unharmed. For the most part, at least. His hair was a birds nest upon his head, the skin that was left uncovered was bruised with black and blue marks, and he looked utterly exhausted.

You pulled up a chair that was in the room and placed it beside the cot, and took his hand in yours. His skin was warm to the touch, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, reinforcing the fact that your husband was alive. Injured and wounded to an extent that you didn't know of just quite yet, but alive, regardless. You brought his hand up to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, thanking whatever higher power would bother to even listen to you in that moment.

You held his hand up to your lips for a few seconds longer, before giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Nghh.... darling? Is that you?"

His voice pulled you out of your silent reverie, and you almost cried tears of joy when you saw your husbands uncovered eye looking at you blearily.

You wanted to throw yourself on top of his body, but rationality stopped you from doing so. So, instead, you opted to placing his palm on your cheek, trying to gain some semblance of control over your emotions as they began to spiral out of control the more that you leaned into his touch and sought out his warmth.

You wanted to be strong for Kento.

You had to be strong for Kento. Especially, considering that there was likely going to be a long road of recovery ahead of him.

You wanted, no, needed to be a rock for him to build his foundation on, like he had done for you many times before in times of turmoil for you.

"How are you feeling?" you managed to get out, your voice shaky.

He gave you a half-hearted smile. "Like a million yen, my love."

You leaned over him to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering just a second too long. "Well, thank goodness for that." You tenderly pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you just tried to bask in his presence and his touch.

"You're not going to be happy with me."

You pulled away, confused. "What? Why would I be unhappy with you?"

A tiny, sheepish grin. "I've lost my wedding ring."

~

You got the full story from Yuuji when Kento had been taken to a healing session with Shoko the next morning. He had been badly burned by some unregistered special grade, and, instead of seeking out help like he should have initially done, had recklessly put himself back into the line of duty and had fought off a horde of transfigured humans in his horrendously mutilated state in hopes of searching for his fallen comrades. He was about to be transfigured by the special grade that was responsible for the horde, some childlike curse named Mahito, but Yuuji, arriving at the eleventh hour, managed to prevent that from happening, swiftly dealing with it before anymore damage could occur.

You had made a mental note to thank Yuuji in some grand, special way that you could go about. Whether it would be a home cooked meal with all the stops pulled out, or, hell, maybe even adoption papers (though, that would have to definitely be discussed with Kento before anything like that came to fruition), you had to do something for the young sorcerer to properly thank him for saving your significant other.

Kento had been promptly discharged from acute medical observation after having spent a week within the confines of the Jujutsu High Infirmary and having numerous healing sessions with Shoko in the process. His red, angry burned left half of his body slowly dimmed to a lightly, flushed pink, and the hair on that side of his body was going to take come time to grow back, of course. Unfortunately, his left eye was something that Shoko was able to regenerate, but he wasn't going to be able to see out of it, rendering him to the use of an eyepatch.

You had spent every waking moment with Kento, doing everything in your power to aide him and be of assistance to him in whatever way possible. You had helped him to the toilets whenever he needed to go, you helped bathe him all while trying to be conscientious of his healing skin, had been at his beck and call and had promptly forced him back into bed several times whenever he tried to go and do things independently.

He hated being catered to, being treated like he was incapable of doing things for himself, by himself. For you, however, he allowed the exception. Begrudgingly, if that.

The first few weeks back home were... uneasy, to say the least.

Every time that you caught Kento looking at himself in the mirror, you would see his mouth turn up in disgust, and he would briskly turn his head in the other direction. He didn't want to leave the apartment, fearing what the general public may think of him.

You've never known your husband to be extraordinarily vain, but you wanted to give him some grace. His appearance and some of his physical capabilities have been drastically changed, and the both of you needed to take some time to get used to it.

As time went on, his mood became more and more surly.

He had withdrawn within himself, and no matter how determined you were to try and coax out what he was truly feeling inside, he would shut down and go nonverbal.

What was most hurtful, however, was how reluctant he was to let you touch him, and vice versa. It seemed that any chance you would take to try and initiate some form of physical affection with him, Kento would immediately brush you off or straight up reject your advances.

"Not tonight, my love. I just want to go to bed."

"Not right now, darling. I'm not in the mood."

Oh, and you could forget about sex. There was no way in hell Kento allowed you to touch him in that sort of regard. Not that you wanted to get physically intimate with him, keeping in mind that he way still recovering from some pretty egregious injuries on the entire half of his left body.

It was just something that lingered in your mind for some time.

You knew that the road to recovery was going to going to be a long one, but you hadn't anticipated the man that your husband was becoming.

Or had already become.

Yuuji, Megumi, Ino, Ijichi, Shoko, and among others paid visits to your home, checking in the two of you to see how you were faring, Shoko mainly stopping in to see how Kento was healing in his post treatment. Shoko was really the only one that Kento allowed to see, hiding himself away in the safety and privacy of your bedroom if it was anyone else.

You knew at some point that Kento was going to have to talk to you, about anything and everything that was going on inside him. It was just a matter of when it was going to happen.

The straw that broke the camels back was when Kento, all while trying to enjoy a cup of coffee at the dining table, accidentally lost his grip on his mug, causing it to shatter on the ground, allowing the contents to spill out all over the floor.

"God dammit!" he quietly snarled to himself as he leaned down beside the chair to pick up the shards of the mug, his hands trembling.

You rushed forward with a dish towel, trying to beat him to the shards of the broken mug. "Here, let me-"

You threw the towel over the mess, as you tenderly picked up the bits of the broken mug and placed them in the palm of your hand, careful not to try and pierce yourself with them.

"I'm sorry."

You paused, looking up at him questionably. "Why are you sorry? It was an accident, Kento. This hardly deserves an apology."

A forlorn look crossed his facial features, the unmarred half of his face scrunching up like he was trying to fight off an onslaught of tears that welled up in his eyes. As he sat there, his emotions brewing within him, he felt like he was a child again. The despair and turmoil swirling in both his chest and his abdomen, overwhelming him as his current state of mind rendered him to feel as if these things were too … too complex for him to process, like he was experiencing it again for the very first time. It was as if the world was too big for him, and he was too small for it. "No. I'm sorry."

You realized that this was more than just the spilled coffee and the broken mug. You stood up, holding the mug in the safety net of the dish rag, watching as Kento began to speak his piece.

A few tears managed to spill over, and you watched as they rolled down his cheek. “When I was sucked into the domain expansion of that water-based Curse along with Maki, Megumi, and Naobito, I thought of you.” He wiped away at the tears on his cheek, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t meet your gaze. "When I was burned by that unregistered special grade, I thought of you. I had… I could’ve gone back to Shoko. I should have gone back…"

You remained silent as your husband broke open before you, the floodgates now barreling wide open. He hunched his shoulders forward, leaning somewhat of his weight onto the table as a sob ripped through his core.

"I nearly died, and left you behind."

In that moment, the reality of the ordeal that Kento survived seemed to finally sink in. The repressed shock and horror coming to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to relive those moments, from the moment when he first set foot within the veil to nearly dying at the hands of the Special-Grade Curse in the Shibuya subway station. He buried his face into his hands and cried, his entire trunk rattling with each shaky breath he took.

He cried for the fact that students, fellow sorcerers, and innocent civilians alike were murdered in cold blood. He cried for the fact that he wasn't able to protect Maki, Megumi, and Naobito from the unregistered special grade. He cried for the fact, that instead of seeking help when he was gravely injured, that he foolishly put himself back onto the frontline. He cried for the fact that he was content with dying at the hands of Mahito, with the prospect of you becoming a widow at such a young age, especially when the pair of you had only been married for a little over two years.

It became clear to you that Kento was suffering from survivor’s guilt. To him, why was he, out of everyone who responded to the incident in Shibuya, allowed to survive?

Why was he granted the ability to continue on living, when there were people who were far more deserving of it?

You set the dishrag on the table top, unable to idly stand by while Kento was in distress. With careful hesitation, you slowly extended your hand out to him, softly touching his shoulder as they shook with sobs. You held still for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction to your physical contact with him, unsure if he would allow you to continue any further.

When he didn't flinch away or move your hand off his shoulder, you cautiously inched closer to him and pulled him by his shoulders into you, letting him bury his face into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his head, threading your fingers into his hair.

"How can you stand to touch me?! Or even be near me?! I'm hideous," he sobbed, his voice muffled.

"I married you for you, remember?"

Kento lifted his face out of the valley of your breasts and met your gaze, his eyes swollen and teary. You tenderly placed a hand on the scarred side of his face, and stroked his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Is this okay?"

He nodded mutely, and closed his eyes, leaning his face into your hand. Kento denied himself the joy of your touch and comfort since he’s been back home with you, out of the shame and humiliation that he harbored for himself.

"I married a kind, gentle, and loving man. A courageous, and valiant man, someone who abnegates himself and his own safety for those he oversees, especially for his students, so that they can make it back home to their loved ones alive and breathing." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his hair. "I’m blessed to have such a wonderful person to call mine. Above all, I’m blessed that this person allows me to call them mine, and that they chose me, out of all the potential partners that they could have had… they chose me." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, your lips lingering on his left side for a second longer than the right side. "And I am forever grateful for that."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you after you finished speaking.

"I should be dead."

Dread washed through you at his statement, but you quickly pushed it to the side, trying to remain steadfast. "But you’re not, Kento. You’re here with me."

Kento gently pushed you back several inches, giving him some room to stand up from the chair to his full height. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his front, allowing you to place the side of your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"And for that, my love, I am forever grateful."

~

Both you and Kento weaved your way through the crowds as the two of you trekked to the underground labyrinth that was the Tokyo subway station. You were headed back Jujutsu Tech for a final checkup appointment with Shoko for Kento.

It wasn't easy to convince him to step out of your shared apartment for the first time, but with enough encouragement and persuading from your end, he finally gave in. One of the conditions, however, was that you accompany him on his appointment and that you find him an eyepatch to wear over his left eye.

You also saw that as an opportunity to see Yuuji. You know that the poor boy has been worried sick over Kento.

You hadn't noticed that there was a slight lag in Kento's hold on your hand as you led him through the crowds until you suddenly were yanked backwards, making you groan out a soft 'oof'.

You turned around to see what was the matter, only to find Kento's gaze focused on a point in the distance, his stare unblinking. You craned your head the other way to see what he was so focused on.

B5.

You heard his respiration hitch and pick up in rate, teetering towards hyperventilating the more he stared at the sign on the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey," you gently cooed, quickly jumping into action to try and prevent a full on panic attack out in the open. You grabbed hold of Kento's face with both of your hands, pulling his gaze away from the sign to bring his eyes down to yours. "Look at me, nothing's going to happen. I promise."

"I...I can't-" his voice sounds strangled.

"Yes, you can. Mahito was exorcised, Yuuji saw it happen himself. You're not as injured as you were before. You're healed. I'm with you, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

Kento visibly relaxed to a certain extent the more you soothe him, your rationality of the situation overpowering his anxiety.

"Here's what's going to happen: we're going to get on the subway, like the many times that we've done before. We're going to ride the subway for six stops until we get to the stop that's ten minutes away from Jujutsu Tech. We'll leave the station, and walk the ten minutes to campus so Shoko can check you out one last time and then we're going to pay Yuuji a visit in his dorm. Don't you need to thank him still?"

He nodded, his shoulders sagging as his head dropped.

"Then let's go, yeah? We’re about to miss our train." You offered him a full hearted smile as you tugged him towards the station.

He let out an apprehensive sigh, letting you guide him forward.

Kento maintained an ironlike grip on your hand as the two of you rode the train, his eye flitting between you and the other passengers, constantly surveying his surroundings in fear that danger would arise at any moment. You silently reassured him by squeezing his hand every so often, your thumb softly stroking the backside of his hand wherever you could reach.

As you expected, the train ride went without a hitch as the car rolled to a stop at your desired destination. He maintained his hold on your hand as you climbed the stairs out of the subway station, slowly but surely releasing some of the tension in his grip.

"See? What'd I tell you?" You leaned up to peck his cheek, reaching the top of the stairs.

"We're having Ijichi drive us back," he grumbled, a scowl forming on his face.

"Ijichi's out attending to a mission with Panda. And besides, this is good exposure therapy for you."

"Ugh."

The appointment with Shoko also went without any issues, with her performing a full body examination on Kento, testing his movements and reflexes on his left side, while getting updates on how he was faring back home. Shoko also let out a low hum of approval at the mention of Kento getting back onto the subway. She signed off on his case file, granting him full permission to get back out into the field, though, all parties in the conversation knew that the possibility of that actually happening was few and far between.

Yuuji was ecstatic to see the two of you standing outside of his dorm, yelping out a lively "Nanamin!" as he launched himself onto Kento, engulfing him into a bear hug.

Kento, taking it all in stride, chuckled and patted the back of Yuuji's head with his free hand. "Hello, Itadori-kun."

The young boy wasted no time, pulling the two of you into his dorm room, filling you in on everything that had gone on campus, mainly sticking around Toge, Panda, and Megumi as everyone was still trying to recover from the grand scale attack that was Shibuya. You had learned of the fates of Nobara and Maki, Kento softly exhaling out a breath that he didn't even realize that he was holding in, now knowing that Maki was alive and well, just recovering from extreme burns like he had been, as well as Nobara also narrowly escaping death from Mahito, permanently blinding her from her left eye.

Both girls were still in recovery. Kento made mental notes to himself to check in on them whenever his schedule would allow him to. He also made a mental note to scold Nobara whenever he would get the chance to, now remembering that he had instructed both her and Nitta to stay behind and wait for help after he had saved them from the fool with the hand for sword.

"Come over for dinner on Sunday? I'll make your favorite dish, whatever it is," you asked Yuuji as you and Kento headed towards the door, planning on taking your leave.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Nanami! I would love to!"

"Good. You need a proper meal and I know that the convenience store ramen and snacks aren't doing a good enough job of keeping you healthy and strong. The door is open whenever you would like to come over."

As you turned to open the door, you were stopped by an "Oh, wait, Nanamin!"

Kento looked over his shoulder to see Yuuji rummaging through his bedside drawer, before picking up an object that was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

"I remember the last time I visited your apartment, you had mentioned that Nanamin had lost his wedding ring. So... I figured... y'know?"

Yuuji presented with an open palm, the wedding ring that Kento had been missing since the 31st of October.

"Itadori-kun..." Kento gasped, fully facing Yuuji now as he grabbed the piece of jewelry out of his hand. "How... how did you find this?" He turned the ring all over, inspecting it to find your initials and the date of your wedding inscribed on the inside of his band, thus cementing the fact that it was his wedding band.

"I went back to the Shibuya station and checked all of the lost and founds that were available there," Yuuji answered brightly, watching with joy as Kento slipped the ring into his suit jacket pocket. "When I couldn't find it there, I searched all of the floors and just... got lucky, I guess."

"You have no idea how happy this has made me, Itadori-kun," Kento beamed at Yuuji, reaching forward to pull him into a hug. "Thank you."

Yuuji wordlessly accepted the hug, resting his chin on his shoulder as he squeezed him back.

You watched the scene unfold, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest.

You reminisced on the moments that you and Yuuji shared when Kento was still in the infirmary, thinking on how much Yuuji came to care for him, not just as his mentor, but as a father figure, one that he never got to experience for himself. You knew how much he valued your husband's opinion, and desperately wanted to earn his respect.

He must have been over the moon.

Kento pulled away, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "See you Sunday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course, Nanamin. I'll see you and Mrs. Nanami there."

"Alright. Take care of yourself, Itadori-kun."

As you left the main building and ventured into the courtyard, heading to the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech, Kento stopped you, as he dug back into his suit jacket.

"Here." He presented you with his ring. "I want you to do it."

With careful fingers, you gingerly took the ring from his fingers and slid it back onto his left fourth digit. You peered up at him. "How are you feeling, Ken?"

He swooped his left hand with yours and brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it.

"Like a million yen, my love."

And this time, he truly meant it.

[unreliablesnake]

Nest (Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader)

Summary: You’re depressed and Simon knows how to comfort you.

Note: A drabble so I can ease back into this. Based on my current depression, sorry not sorry.

Warnings: Depression.

You lost your job while he was deployed, which triggered your depression. Now that he’s home again, Simon wants to make sure you’re taken care of, so he tosses his duffel bag next to the couch in the living room, takes a quick shower, then goes to the bedroom where you’re hiding under a thick blanket. He doesn’t slip under the covers right away, he first crouches down next to your side of the bed and very slowly pulls it down just enough to see your face.

“Hey, love,” he says quietly, deliberately not touching you despite every cell in his body telling him to do so. You don’t respond, so he goes on. “Mind if I join you?”

Finally, you look at him, your big, sad eyes shining from the tears that are threatening to fall soon, but you nod eventually. So, Simon flashes a soft smile at you, then heads to the other side of the bed to crawl under the blanket next to you, waiting for you to finally turn around and face him.

Under different circumstances, he would simply wrap his arm around you to pull you close to his chest, placing kisses all over the back of your neck and your shoulder as his hand roams your body, but today he has to resist this urge. Today he’s playing it smart, cautious, he wants to make sure you feel safe enough to open up about your thoughts.

This isn’t the first time this is happening, and probably it’s not the last either, but he’s okay with it, it’s not like he isn’t fucked in the head too. You are two broken pieces that somehow fit together, and this is perfect like this, he wouldn’t want it any other way. Sure, he’s worried sick whenever he has to be away when you’re like this, but you have your parents who can jump in and help out, bringing you food and checking to see if you’re still alive.

After what feels like an eternity, you turn around and let out a long sigh. He reaches out to gently swipe a strand of hair out of your face, then lets his fingers trace your jawline as he pulls his hand away. There are at least a thousand things in his head that he wants to say, but he’d rather give you the chance to decide when you want to emerge from your shell, when you feel comfortable enough to talk to him.

“Si? Why are you still with me?” you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I love you.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Why?”

Simon takes a deep breath, trying to figure out what’s the right answer to this question. If he begins to talk about how great you are, you would just crawl back into the shell, because you would surely assume he’s only saying this to make you feel better, but he doesn’t want to leave you without an answer either. This is why he licks his lips and flashes a small smile at you.

“We match each other’s freak,” he jokes, and it makes you smile for the first time since he got home. “No, seriously, I can’t explain it. I just love you.”

This breaks the ice, and finally you move closer and snuggle up to him, seeking refuge in his arms. He’s more than happy to stay like this as long as you want, because at least this way he can be sure you don’t do anything stupid. His phone that he left on the nightstand keeps beeping, but it’s just background noise that he’ll ignore for now.

There are way more important things to worry about.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Neighboring Whispers

Character: Higuruma Hiromi Reader: female (cis) CW: explicit nsfw content, pre-relationship, neighbors next door, attraction at the first sight, mutual pinning, hair fetish, hair pulling, blowjob, fingers in mouth, spitting in mouth, praise kink & pet names (good girl and variations), fingering & vaginal sex, spanking, creampie, reader has long, non-curly hair and tattoos (yes, it's plot relevant) Word Count: 9k Synopsis: By a pressing accident you were left without water in your apartment, and you were forced to beg your neighbor, Higuruma, for letting you to take a shower in his bathroom. Dazed after a sleepless night, he obliged to your request. The consequences of his spontaneous decision had been haunting him ever since... A/N: little birds chirped @lale-txt wanted a sexy lawyer under her christmas tree and since we were already doing a server exchange... ;) merry a little late christmas, Lale, I hope you will enjoy this absolute monster of a one shot! ❤ jjk masterlist // ao3 version

The first ring was like an irritating fly, bouncing off the walls of his exhausted concentration, its dull buzzing drilling into his ears.

The second jolted him from head to toes, the first move in a prominently long time, aching and tingling in stiff joints and drowsy muscles.

The third finally made him peel eyes off the screen, his sight blurry and invisible sand grazing under his eyelids. 

Higuruma hid face behind the soothing shadow of his hands, plastered tight to his skin, and groaned, almost cursed. He was tired, so deadly tired he would swore he could feel the dark circles under his eyes. The dizziness was comparable to one after an unsuccessful power nap—yet, he knew he wasn't asleep even for a second. He couldn't, not when at work, at that damned work he swore he would touch only for an hour, two at the absolute maximum, and then go to bed, to finally grab proper rest for the rare free day to come. 

For how long was he stuck by the kitchen table, the place he had chosen to avoid the focus? Higuruma feared to peel hands off his eyes, but he still did so. The light, sipping through wide open blinds, was already bright and dazzling. The microwave clock was even more merciless: it showed a few minutes past eight.

Fuck.

The fourth ring was the longest, desperate and inappropriate for such an early hour. Under other circumstances Higuruma wouldn't welcome the intruder with open arms but at that moment he felt somewhat grateful for snapping him out of trance. 

"Coming." He announced, more to himself than to the person behind the door. Legs bent and swayed under him at first, he had to lean against the table for a moment, cursing his workaholism and age, but he forced himself to stand straight, then to walk. By the time he reached the door he was almost back to state befitting a man in his thirties, not a senior he got turned into by a sleepless, work-full night.

Higuruma didn't look through the peephole first, just opened, catching you already turning back. A whirl of long hair caught his attention faster than your face, not that it helped him much when he finally met it with his exhausted—yet still attentive—gaze. He could roughly pinpoint it as familiar but couldn't bring any name nor other particularly useful information to it. 

He knew you lived on the same floor. He knew you were often doing groceries in the same shop as him. He knew you both were sometimes taking the same train in the morning—but he had never caught which was your stop.

That's all.

"How can I help you, miss—" Higuruma's voice faltered; he was still trying to squeeze your name out of his memory, but his focus was already taking a different direction. There was something eerie about you, something concerning not as a danger for him but as a sign something must had happened, to you or to the whole surrounding. He wouldn't put it past himself to miss an emergency; when he was working, he could have easily overlooked a whole apocalypse. 

You were a mess. Possibly worse than his own. Uncombed hair, falling over your shoulders in tangled strands, greasy face, visibly home-only oversized tracksuit, blowzily thrown over your shoulders, a tote bag, overfull, squeezed tight to your chest… He wasn't a detective, but he could easily tell you left your place in a hurry.

"Y/N." You relieved Higuruma of his main concern. "I live at number 33."

You took a sharp turn, nodding to your door, but Higuruma's eyes barely followed, yet again swallowed by the sheer waterfall of your hair. 

"Alright, this is gonna be…awkward." You took a deep breath, as if adding yourself power to wade through whatever pressed on your soul. "Please. I beg. I need a shower."

"Pardon?" Higuruma almost choked on breath, shocked less by the sudden request, just rapidly pulled out of chaotic thoughts buzzing at the back of his head. Thoughts full of your hair and its flow, the suffocating and entrancing vortex. 

"I have no water." You nearly sobbed. "There's a renovation up there, I forgot… The whole plumb line is turned off on my side. I don't know when— Fuck, I have a meeting in three hours. I don't have time to run to a bathhouse, even if they would let me in…"

He must have made an exceptionally stupid expression because you stumbled out of your panicked trance and hurried to explain what he hadn't even deemed as needing any explanation. Hugging the tote with one arm, you rolled the sleeve of the other and revealed a tattoo running up the forearm towards the elbow.

He nodded with understanding.

 "Please, sir, no one else answers the door…" Your gaze flicked at him with such pleading that his already crumbling resolve immediately backed off, leaving him unarmed against you and your illegally beautiful hair. "I'll pay for the—"

"I charge only for legal advice, shower is a free service." Higuruma tried to squeeze a joke out of himself but with his exhausted expression he could as well recite a random sentence out of the case he was chewing through for the whole night. "First door to the left. Ah, and sorry for the…mess."

It was a massive overestimation, he realized a few of your steps into his apartment too late. His place needed a thorough tidying like fresh water. It wasn't dirty, at least that—but everything screamed "single, overworked, and too done to bother" at anyone who paid a minimum of attention. Dust, empty mugs and beer cans, takeout boxes piled into a temporary dumpster, any flat surface littered with books, files, loose notes, newspapers… Hey, he wasn't that bad usually, but you caught him in the worst moment, right before the day booked for being a responsible adult

Hell, he should have at the very least do something about his bathroom before he let you in. But you pounced at the door faster than his thought and he had to chew on his shame with the noise of his own shower filling the awkward silence around him. 

When was the last time someone barged into his life like this? The last relationship Higuruma could call a serious one had lasted before he finished his apprenticeship. With time slipping through his hands and wallet filling with money he had eventually stopped inviting his flings to his place. And in the past few years he had extinguished even this fragile flame that kept pushing him into love hotels with equally tired participants of seminars, coworkers, and random lays he had stumbled upon in bars and never bothered to remember their names. 

He couldn't see nor hear you, nothing over the hum of water, and yet, your presence was mercilessly crawling under his skin. He felt your breath at the back of his neck as he was tidying the space around in hurry. Maybe it wouldn't have been so palpable if you were a man… But a woman in his kingdom of the mid-thirty loneliness? Something about this fact cut a good half on his year count—and not to his advantage. He never pegged himself as shy nor crude to be bothered by a fact of a woman simply existing in his proximity, but…

It had been long, too long. And you were exactly in his type.

Exhaustion played a huge role at that, he was sure of it. Exhaustion paired with neglected libido and long-forgotten fetish perking their traitorous heads up at the slightest trace of your presence. You dropped something and shivers ran up his spine so hard he almost dropped his laptop too. A faint smell of fruity cosmetics reached his nose, and he couldn't remember anymore where he should put the papers he held. The hum of the shower finally stilled, and panic bubbled under his skin, cutting him short on sight and breath for a split second—split but long enough to mess with his balance.

You caught him like this, still bent over the table, at first glance nonchalantly checking something on the phone, in fact—fighting for the last scrap of dignity left in him. 

Higuruma observed you with the corner of his eye, tense like a string. It was easier to look at you now, with your hair meticulously tucked under a towel tied around your head, so he took that risk. Little did it help. The sight of you casually standing in the middle of his apartment, bare feet, damp shirt plastered to your sides, churned his insides with yearning that had nothing to do with lewd ideas. 

Yes, it definitely had been too long since he was touched with this level of intimacy.

"Sorry for the mess," he repeated himself, his voice feeling dry at his throat. 

Your laughter suited the sharp yet sweet scent of your shower gel, filling his apartment for hours to come, "I won't look a gift shower in the plumbing. Thank you, mister—"

"Higuruma," he quickly cut in before awkwardness managed to drag you into his misery.

"Higuruma," you repeated, mimicking his accent almost to perfection. 

He loved the way his last name rolled on your tongue. He loved it so much he had to turn away for a moment and bite on his own. Thoughts dancing in his head pressed too much to his lips. But he wasn't that much of a creep to let them do as they please. Just the fact they existed was putting him into embarrassment. 

Did you notice? Most likely not, too busy balancing on one foot to pull a sock, then shoe, on the other. With a tote tugged under your armpit and in a hurry, you clearly struggled, but Higuruma didn't move from his place, mindful of his sins and the situation overall. If you needed help, you would ask, until then it would be better, if he kept this distance. 

"I know you said no money but any chance I could return a favor in any other way?" You pulled him instead into conversation, much to the panic of his tongue, tying into clumsy knots at the slightest thought of speaking.

"It's nothing." Higuruma let the dream scenario fly over his head. He wasn't sure if you were flirting or just hated the idea of being in debt and in front of uncertainty, he preferred to stand his stubborn ground.

"You let a stranger use your shower." You didn't give up. You had the ball and you insisted on rolling it despite hurry pressing at your back, it seemed.

"My impossibly cluttered shower." Years in court made him more patient than a saint, even in front of a person crumbling his resolve into dust with a single flick of eyelashes. "I'd feel bad if I asked for something in exchange for such conditions."

"And what about me? I already feel bad for cluttering your space with myself."

"If I ever find myself without water, I'll know where to go."

You rolled your eyes and laughed again, your voice sharper this time. Higuruma wasn't especially sensitive with sounds but the change of yours immediately caught his attention and craved itself into his memory.

Oh, it was bad.

Dumbfounded, he didn't react when you pounced towards his abandoned workplace and snatched a piece of paper and a pen.

"I don't have much time left so—" You scribbled fast, digging deep into the surface, and yet clear enough for him to read with ease. "I'm a regular here. Come anytime and tell them Y/N sent you. The lunch is on me."

If not for the paper on the table and scent you left all over the apartment, Higuruma would classify you as a fever dream of an all-nighter the moment you sprinted out, apologizing and saying goodbyes all at the same time. He followed almost blindly, ready to shut the door as soon as you crossed the threshold (and cut you out before any weird new thought would haunt him). He already planned to air the whole place and scrub the bathroom out of your presence

He would, no hesitation, return to his cozy loneliness if not for a draft finally crushing the fragile construction on top of your head. Cascade of hair tore the knot apart, the towel slid down your shoulders straight into his hand as he reached for it without thinking twice and before it managed to untangle fully from the wet strands. They brushed his fingers, for a split time he felt their soft texture and weight, and his heart throbbed so hard he lost a good ounce of breath right there, over the threshold. 

"Sorry and thank you! Take care, Higuruma!" The door of your apartment clicked closed before the echo of your voice disappeared. He stood there even longer, pulse beating in his ears like a drum and his cheeks burning. It felt like hours before he finally forced himself back into his place, barricaded into illusive safety, hand pressed tight to his face, to muffle a loud groan.

His skin was still slightly wet and smelled of your shampoo.

Oh, he was so done for.

He should have trashed that note.

It glared at him right from where you had left it. Higuruma hadn't dared to move it any way, himself not sure why, but instead of blending into the environment, as he was hoping, it stood out like a huge, bloody stain of shame. A reminder of what he had been praying for to be just a dream born out of exhaustion and sleepless night.

He was doing his best to not look at it. It attracted his eyes like a magnet.

In no time he knew the name and address by heart. His excellent memory, so helpful in his career, became his curse. One look in note's direction and his mind was already mapping the route. Of course, it had to be conveniently located, in the area he knew well, relatively close to his workplace, in distance perfect for a lunch break.  

If only he trashed this piece of damned paper!

Maybe then his mind wouldn't be plagued with ideas and temptation. Maybe he wouldn't have to sneak in and out of his own apartment like a thief, jerking at the slightest sound behind his back. He was leaving earlier, returning later, changing routes and shopping in a different 7-Eleven. Everything to not run into you—just to return to your scent still somehow lingering in the air. 

Higuruma was ready to swear you had somehow cursed him. Was it humanly possible to influence his life with only showering in his bathroom? The sharp and fruity scent grew stronger near the cabin, shaped in his mind like a vortex of your hair. Warm water falling on his head felt like your laughter, droplets traced down his chest and stomach like signs you wrote on the note, elegant and pronounced. 

Your name tasted sweet and heavy on his tongue. Higuruma didn't dare to say it aloud, but it lingered, a sweet aftertaste of a candy he couldn't bring himself to ask for. He still tried to weigh it, right at the tip of his tongue, slick as a feel of your wet hair slipping through his fingertips. 

Only once, he tried to put it into life, but it barely danced at the edge of his teeth and died with a miserable groan as he couldn't hold himself back any longer and spent the rest of his morning shower on furiously fucking his fist.

He should have trashed— No, burnt this note and thrown the ashes in the wind.

By the time his legs finally carried him, still against his will, to the address, Higuruma had already abandoned the idea of avoiding the problem. He wasn't quite there with an ultimate decision, but the desperation reached the level where he had to simmer it down. Giving in to temptation of seeing you again was only a reasonable decision; with some luck he would not find you there and, with a now clean conscience, he would finally get rid of the paper of shame.

Seeing the signboard took him aback. Higuruma didn't ponder over the location to expect anything, but he still froze in place, hand clenched stupid at the handle as he took a step back to look at the name again. 

It sounded like one of those modern, instagram-catered places for a quick lunch in a break from rushing through the city. It was nowhere close to what, in fact, the place was: a cat cafe, in its whole camp and overfly fluffy glory. 

Higuruma looked at the signboard, then took a peek through the window again. A fat tabby cat, loafing on a table by the sill, peeked back at him and slowly blinked. He took it as an order.

One deeper breath later he finally entered. Right by the threshold he was attacked by the suffocating, sweet scent, dangerously reminding him of the cosmetics you used in his bathroom. Panic roared at the back of his head but before he could listen and withdraw, he grabbed eye contact with a barista who had perked her head over the coffee machine.

"Good afternoon, sir." She smiled at him, as full of enthusiasm as professionalism allowed. "A table in a regular room or in a cat—"

"I have received a capias issued for a certain gentleman I found resting in your property." He said dryly, maybe a little too much as the woman's friendly expression tensed into a mix of stress and confusion. "Just joking. I'm not arresting anyone. I had this place recommended by an acquaintance of mine."

When he said your name, she immediately smiled (not without a breath of relief, he noticed) and dropped the mask of a perfect employee. He was stared at curiously now, from the tips of leather shoes to neatly composed hairstyle. Oh, he definitely was the main subject of workplace gossip—and would jump back into fashion once he left this place, no doubt in this matter. 

"My apologies, sir, Y/N mentioned you would show up but hasn't notified us when." She flashed him with a genuine smile. "You're in luck, she's stopped for a lunch today, she's in the cat room right now. Shall I—"

"I'll find my way." Higuruma quickly cut in. He wouldn't mind adding spice to the gossip, even if just to ease his own stress, but…somehow, the thought of being observed during an inevitably awkward moment churned his stomach in a very not good way. "I would like—"

He studied the menu at the blackboard. Most of the names reminded him of absolutely nothing. "Something… decadent and viral, how kids call it. Surprise me, please."

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No, thank you."

He was ordered to strip from his jacket and scarf and asked to keep his briefcase as close as possible. Barista took her sweet time to study him as she walked him to the cat room, on her way explaining in detail what was allowed and what not. Higuruma let the words fly over his head: he had no interest in tormenting poor animals (who and for what would want to pull them by their tails?), but even if he had, his plans would be undeniably ruined by your presence. He already felt his throat clenching—not in fear or panic but in the same kind of embarrassment he felt whenever his thoughts about you slipped into the direction, he'd been avoiding at all costs. All of his thoughts were decent at that moment, yet he was tense and flushed regardless. Something, from the depths of his intuition, was whispering that, no matter what he does and says, he would reveal everything that happened, in his mind and not, since the day he had seen you barefoot and with wet hair in the middle of his apartment.

It would straight up make him come across as a creep.

He didn't want to come across as a creep.

"And no apprehensions." Barista finished her lecture with a smooth joke and pulled at the door to the cat paradise.

The main part of the cafe was calm—but the cat room was even calmer and silent, no music, none of the steady hum of working machines. It was almost empty too but a small group of teenage girls, flocking around the table by a huge cat tree, and you, of course, in a cozy corner, leaning over a book. Higuruma's heart almost flipped in his chest at the sight and fluttered just harder and faster when you pulled a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. The move was slow, smooth and so sensual one would think you were doing it deliberately. 

But you were lost in thought, unaware of your surroundings and Higuruma's gaze taking in the view voraciously, straight up swallowing every inch of yours. From your face, beautiful in your calm focus, to the tips of your fingers, still tangled in the strands behind your ear—and down your back, together with the flow of loosely tied hair. 

His mouth was dry and full of saliva at the same time. A smooth starter he had prepared in a case of wonderfully bad luck just died, leaving him with tight, uncomfortable silence and head empty of thoughts, full just of the feel of the same hair against his hand. 

He hoped too that seeing you in a more presentable state would crush the intimate, inappropriate for your level of familiarity, appearance of yours he had coded. And eventually relieve him of the yearning that had nothing and everything to do with sex, all at once.

Fool, idiot, a hundred times a naive kid. Seeing you like this only made everything worse.

"Y/N! Your neighbor with a sexy nose is finally here." The barista chirped over his shoulder and bolted before neither of you both could react.

If the block in his throat was difficult to swallow before, now Higuruma could as well just suffocate and die on point.

"Higuruma!" You tried to feign a cheerful attitude, but flustered expression and sudden flap of both hands betrayed you. One of them was still tangled in your hair; you yanked it free from the ponytail and sent your ornate hair clip flying. It fell right by his feet with a little metallic thud.

"You seem to lose your head at my sight." Higuruma saw the opportunity to avoid your gaze and snatched it so fast he almost hit his head against the table. "Or I should rather say: things from your head."

His hand trembled under the weight of the little trinket. It seemed alright except for three zirconias that fell out straight into his palm, "Towel at least took it better."

You muttered a simple thanks and took the hair clip before he climbed up from his knee. Your hands met for a split moment and a sharp shock snapped up and down Higuruma's spine. 

He hoped he managed to feign his calm better than you.

The silence that followed was heavy but not awkward for a change. Higuruma found himself a new excuse to look away, subtle and polite, just right to give you space for collecting thoughts: the decor of the cat room was truly entertaining to observe. Higuruma never had a cat; he was very pleased to notice that the furniture he took at first for clutter was in fact a developed playground. Little creatures, intrigued or concerned by the noise, moved from their spots. Shelves, ottomans and line bridges fluttered with elegant steps and soft tapping of little paws.

Even the fat tabby turned its head and gave Higuruma a look full of pity.

"It doesn't click right," you finally broke the much needed pause, pulling his attention back to you. "Oh well. I really liked it."

"It is a pity." He agreed, somehow keeping voice in check. The last thing he wanted was to suddenly screech at you. Fate knows how much his throat tried to, though. "It really suited your hair."

He didn't get a good look at it but after so many thoughts recalling your hair in detail, Higuruma could easily imagine it from every angle. His cheeks filled with traitorous, familiar heat. At least he wasn't prone to blushing.

By the gleam in your eyes, he could tell you were about to pick up the flirting, but you were interrupted by the barista. Looks were exchanged over his head, a slight tick at the corner of your lips betrayed their nature, but his attention was instead pulled by a piece of latte art put in front of him.

They really took his request to their hearts. Milk foam on top of his coffee was piled into a chubby cat face. They went as far as adding eyes, nose, whiskers and a little cunning smile. Three stripes at the top of its head must have been made with coffee as a paint. He had to admit the dedication to detail was truly endearing.

"Oh. That's surprising." You hummed, more to yourself, but continued louder prompted by his furrowing eyebrows. "You don't look like someone who would order a cute latte."

"Oh? And how do I look?"

"Black coffee. No sugar."

"I like it very sweet, actually." Higuruma finally felt more at ease, tension melting down his shoulders so visibly he could swear it was happening literally. "With a dash of milk."

The first few sentences were always the worst, in law and flirting alike. Once he got a good grip of the situation, he could finally focus on the exchange only. You were a cunning conversation partner, fast to catch his jokes, smooth to follow the thread and bounce the ball back at him. You had quite a gamut of shared topics and he just kept growing more interested—no, fascinated. 

Your mind and soul were fitting his type even more accurate than your appearance.

And yet, Higuruma's thoughts kept bouncing back to the fateful morning, to the perfection of your body in its messy glory. He couldn't help but to compare all the time. A strip of your tattoo peeked from under your sleeve—and he knew how far it, in fact, reached. A contour of your bra was visible under your shirt—in almost the same place where wet spots had pressed since you had dried yourself in a rush. Your hair fell smooth over your shoulders, in heavy strands he was dying for to caress—because he remembered the sensation of their ends touching his skin. 

Over and over again, his flesh was taking over his mind. And it was…infuriating.

When something touched his calf, Higuruma nearly jolted. He managed to forget a little how tense he still was, illusion destroyed fast by a friendly tail, wrapping around his leg. 

The indifferent stare and chunky posture were already familiar.

"Oh, someone likes you." You cooed with a bright smile. "It's rare for Haru to come to a new client."

"She's being picky?" The lawyer leaned down, let the curious cat sniff his fingers before he gently caressed its head.

"He. He's a little fussy diva. Wait, maybe I'll encourage him a little—" 

You leaned to the side and behind to reach for a toy, move quite fast, and your hair repeated the vortex he had seen even before he had taken a look at your face. The almost painful churning in Higuruma's stomach rushed dangerously low; he coughed into fist to give a reason for leaning forwards. Haru snapped his head back at the noise, but instead of running away he leaped into the lawyer's lap, fitting tight the space between his torso and thighs. And successfully hiding the area that could become problematic at any moment.

"Thanks, buddy," Higuruma whispered and scratched him behind the ear.

"He really likes you." You laughed, by no means offended for your sneaky plan to fail before it had started. "You're so natural with cats."

"It's only one of my talents." He flicked his gaze at you, his hand resting full on the cat's head, deliberately swept along the line of its spine. "Been always told I'm good with my hands."

The risk was exceptionally calculated, even for him. But it paid off with sparks of interest flickering in your eyes and fast, so easy to miss, bite at the side of your bottom lip.

The note had been replaced by a hair clip.

Higuruma hadn't even thought twice when he had sprinted out of work straight to a jeweler. His mind and soul had been in a different place, entranced by your number freshly saved on his phone, and hadn't perked up even at the significant amount of money he had spent on a golden clip. 

The coincidence had been too good to be just a wink of fate: the design was almost identical to your old one.

Complications had appeared after he had come back and grabbed much deserved sleep. Fresh brain had pushed the old scruples back to the surface, and the would-be gift had ended on the kitchen table, leering at Higuruma as he was sneaking by, in shame and trying to look away.

Since the cat cafe date, you had met at least five times. All meetings had been rather non-committal and platonic, and the closest he got to fulfilling his fantasies had been a gentle kiss on his cheek he had earned after a movie. Yet, Higuruma knew there was a prominent spark of interest on your side. So far you had answered all of his advances with eagerness if not straight forward had been playing with him as if he was a cat on the other end of a teasing wand.

He was still feeling ashamed of himself but didn't intend to let such an opportunity slip through his hands. All he needed was that last step…but he couldn't quite grow spine to finally make it.

So the hair clip kept glaring at him, and he kept ignoring it, as much as he could at least before he was caving in to all those temptations leading him to late night shower fantasies.

By the time he heard you ringing to his door he even managed to forget about it a little. Well, he was deep in work again, his mind finally free of all red-hot thoughts and quandaries—until said sound pierced him like a stray bullet. He knew immediately it was you; he couldn't explain why and how but he knew. The rush of blood thudding in his ears for once had nothing to do with anxiety—this time it was a genuine excitement, hope even, if he dared to somewhat name the vortex of his thoughts. This was but just a little change; it meant nothing for heat building in his cheek nor for trembling of hands he barely tamed on his way to the door.

Before he opened, he had to take a deep, hopefully calming breath.

"This is gonna be awkward again." You admitted with a shy smile. "There's no heating at my place. And no warm water. "

Your appearance was a stunning middle ground between the scrupulously crafted look you donned for your little dates and the casual home-only mess Higuruma had learnt the day you got to talk for the first time. You were still dressed neatly but disarray had already sneaked with crumpled fabric, rolled up sleeves and the mess of your hair, barely tamed with a hair band. 

A loose strand fell out of it, and you tugged it behind your ear, with the same smooth, sensual move he had learnt by heart. Higuruma swallowed, a bit too audibly for his comfort.

"I can offer warm tea and warm company," he moved to the side and gestured towards the apartment. At least this time the mess was more tamed; since he had been caught red-handed, he paid more attention to the state of his surroundings. 

It couldn't possibly be a more obvious excuse, but Higuruma's thoughts were speeding too fast to do something more than taking a mental note. He intended to guide you towards the living room, but you took your guest rights to the fullest and chose a seat by the table in the kitchen from where you were piercing him with a curious gaze. In a calmer state Higuruma would pay more attention and take note how strategic your move was—but he was too busy masking his stress by preparing the tea and snacks. Before the doorbell, at least a shadow of the hair clip had existed at the back of his head. Now the whole trace was gone, replaced by all his dreams and worries packed into a single vortex of inner and somewhat controlled panic.

Why was he so nervous? He had no reason to delve into his thoughts anymore. All that was left was one of you finally tugging the rope to their side. You were right there, behind his back, twisting a strand of your hair around your finger, legs crossed just right to roll your dress up your thighs a little. Part of him was itching to turn and pull you into his arms, to bury his face into the back of your neck, to trace your tattoos and check how far they really reach. The other kept spraying the horny demon in him with cold water—and by far winning at that time.

If only you gave him a little more prominent sign…

"A hair clip?" As if reading his mind, you sprung forwards. "It looks like mine… Where did you get it?"

Higuruma almost dropped the cups with tea.

"Oh. That." He had never been blessed his experience with stress-taming than he did now. He needed only a single breath to look presentable again. "Well… Now it's my turn at the awkward merry-go-round. Was supposed to be a gift."

He set your cup in front of you, his hand almost free of trembling. Your gaze grazed over it for a second before it flicked back to the accessory, by "chance" placed right within your sight but out of reach, "Gift?"

"Replacement for the one I broke." Higuruma had no choice but to grab it himself and offer it to you on open palm. "I plead guilty and have already paid a fine."

You said nothing but he could read from your face his choice was simply perfect. You gently traced its edge, almost took it, but at the last time you withdrew, your eyes full of sultry gleam. "Thank you. It's so pretty. But you shouldn't have—"

"Oh, I should. And I loved it." Higuruma already knew where it was going. He felt sweat pearling at his temples, a single droplet traced down the side of his face. "It's but a pleasure to offer beautiful things to a beautiful woman."

You traced the clip again, with more prominent pressure this time, such a perfectly feigned hesitation. 

"Then…" Your gaze wandered up and locked with his. "Would you like to clip it in?"

Higuruma's knees nearly gave up under him when you, no longer waiting for his answer, let your hair flow free. With a single shake of your head, you spilled it all over your shoulders for him to gather it again, smile dancing at the corners of your lips a shameless proof you knew exactly what you were doing. 

Were his thoughts that obvious? Were his sinful dreams written all over his face? Was he being pulled into a trap from the very beginning? 

As if entranced, Higuruma approached you from behind. Even with explicit permission he was more than gentle when he caressed your hair from the crown of your head to its tips. It was smooth like velvet, far more than he had imagined it to be after the brief contact. 

The flame inside him churned and roared, pulse thudding in his ears muffled down all the other sounds. Hands shaking, he started gathering your hair to the back, into a single, thick thread he tried to hold firmly for the clip. He feared to tug too much; if he slipped once, he knew he wouldn't stop, the loose yet so heavy knot around his fingers just waiting to be tightened.

In the wildest fantasies flowing through his dreams Higuruma hadn't considered it to feel so good, almost too good to be real.

He couldn't hold it for longer, he let go, watched your hair spill again in awe, his throat dry and clenched. Threading fingers through it, he reached deeper, brushing at your scalp, and noting, pleased, a low, purr-like sound you made. Entrancing smoothness pulled him yet again, though, and he combed the strands to their tips, and returned to the crown of your head, over and over and one more time, and more—

"You don't have to be so gentle," you hummed, arching into his touch with no trace of shame. "I quite like it pulled."

Higuruma swallowed the hook together with the rod.

He gathered your hair into his fist, wrapped it around, and slowly—but with prominent power—pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck to himself. You mewled, following the move without further encouragement, giving him better access in the most arched, sweetest way possible. He leaned closer, his lips an inch away from your skin as he soaked in the familiar, sweet, intimate scent. The choice between possible routes was hard but eventually he settled on the most shameless one. He kissed your ear, brushed his lips right under it, and dived straight into the source of the fire burning him through all this time, through weeks that felt like ages. 

The softness of your hair was even more intoxicating when Higuruma felt it against his face. The first tasting nudge found your approval, so he went for a shaky, almost desperate breath of your scent, so rich and so throughout yours. It was a sin to abandon it, but he knew he had to discover more—or else the doors to the forbidden garden might push him away and shut closed. Shaking and almost sobbing in immense pleasure and happiness, the lawyer trailed his kisses back to your neck, then down to the curve of your shoulder until he felt the seam of your dress under his lips. 

"Hiromi…" You pleaded in whisper, for the first time calling him by his name. "Kiss me…"

Hand still tight in your hair, Higuruma tilted your head stronger to the side and leaned over your shoulder. Your noses brushed awkwardly before he finally found your lips. He expected it to be slow, just a little peck for a starter, but you apparently just waited for it. You grabbed him by the tie and pulled, your tongue slipping into his mouth without a warning nor hesitation. He let you take the lead at first but soon your advances weren't quite enough for his voracity, and he answered you with even greater eagerness.

It was his first kiss in so long and one of the very few so intense. You were barely stopping for a breath, one immediately pulling the other back when it halted. Higuruma's head was spinning, from lack of air and overflow of emotions. His heart was beating so fast that he danced on the line of fainting right in front of you, no wonder you guided him as you liked despite his hand clenched in your hair and kisses swallowing your breath.

You stood up and pushed him against the table, finally giving the both of you much deserved break and freeing each other of the tight clutch of your hands. 

"Lemme," you nipped at his ear shortly after. 

Gasping for air, Higuruma watched your advances with fascination. You unbuttoned his shirt with a casual knack and pawed at his hairy chest, trailing down the dark line towards the hem of his pants. Part of him was relieved to have his hard, almost painful, erection finally freed—the other dusted his cheeks with embarrassment. So fast and so easily… He wasn't a teenager anymore, his desperation was almost shameful.

Little did you care, almost shaking yourself when you fell to your knees and peeled his pants and underwear out of your way. You licked your lips at the sight of his hard, throbbing cock, and wrapped fingers around it. A few testing strokes later, you brushed a droplet of precum off his tip with a thumb, then leaned for a little, almost cute kiss.

"Shit…" Higuruma muttered through clenched teeth. For once forgetting about your hair, he held on to the table for his dear life and focused on not cumming right on spot. Unaware of his fight, you continued with teasing kisses and kitty licks towards the base. With the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive skin of his balls you almost sent him flying; to stop orgasm from coming he bit his lip so hard he almost cut it to blood.

"So full…" You cooed, unawares of his struggle. Higuruma didn't dare to look at you—a futile effort as he could easily imagine what you were doing just by the feel of your lips and tongue at work.

"It's been… A while— Fuck!" As if it would help him if he held his breath and closed his eyes. Your mouth was so wet and hot and sucked him off with such fervor he was ready to beg you to slow down. It was illegal for a simple blowjob to feel so good; was it your skill or his desperation, all of it mixed with the tension building up relentlessly through the last few weeks—it didn't matter. Various thoughts were speeding through his mind, but he quite literally had no power to process them. 

Higuruma mewled your name, a pitiful whimpering sound that clenched his chest with almost painful embarrassment. He felt your approving hum vibrating around his cock as you slid him into your throat, until you reached a depth comfortable for you, and started bobbing your head along his length. His imagination reached its peak of capability, drowned into comfortable darkness he desperately tried to enforce on his poor, tortured brain. So slick and hot, so tight when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked, balancing right on the thin line between ineffable pleasure and discomfort.

You were on a mission to suck him dry—and he had no power (nor desire) to oppose you.

Yet, with the tension relentlessly building and nearing its peak, Higuruma put every ounce of his might left and peeled one hand off the table to immediately tangle it in your hair. You chirped, pleased, around his cock, clearly expecting a pull towards—not backwards. Eyes wide open and dark with desire, you gazed at him with upper confusion. You didn't even close your lips, a string of saliva still connected them with the tip of his dick.

"N-not like that…" The lawyer managed to choke out between desperate draughts for air. "I want—"

Thank goodness you read his mind like an open book. Otherwise, he would stutter there to the kingdom come and back, like a dazed idiot he was.

"Bed?" You nuzzled your head into his palm. The temptation to pull grew stronger again, so strong that Higuruma's cock twitched just at the thought. He quickly withdrew, brushed his fingers down your face to wipe saliva off your lips and chin. At the desired level he hesitated—and brushed a little string of drool back into your mouth and deeper. If you were surprised, you hadn't showed it, instead opening wider for him and swirling your sinful tongue around his digits.

A wild idea crossed his mind, a kink he had tried with one of his past partners but hadn't quite brought it back until now as he was fucking your mouth with his fingers and staring at your drool pooling inside and dripping down your chin, first droplets falling on the front of your dress. He didn't dare to say it but a move, expression or the whole situation must have betrayed him yet again. 

You pierced him with an understanding gaze and nodded.

Higuruma slowly withdrew his fingers and grabbed your chin, soon tilting your head back. With his throat so dry it took him quite a moment to gather enough drool, but you waited oh so patiently, your eyes closed and your hair flowing down your head with the heave of your heavy breathing. 

He leaned down and let his spit slowly drip down from the tip of his tongue, straight into your wide open, waiting mouth. Your whole body trembled and a little mewl broke through your lips as you let it slide down your throat.

"Such a good girl…" The guttural, heavy with desire voice that got out of his throat surprised even him. "Swallowing everything for me…"

He did it two more times before he couldn't find more spit to share. Instead, he returned to torture you with his fingers, playing with your tongue and testing how far he can reach before you gag around them. With great pleasure he was surprised to not find this moment despite trying really hard.

"If you're gonna torture me like this—" You warned with an impish gleam in your eyes as soon as he gave you a break. "—I won't hold it for longer and make you cum with my mouth."

Higuruma leaned against the table and cooled his head down with a few deep breaths.

"Bed," he agreed with the unanswered question of yours and helped you get up.

Yet again you took the lead and straight up herded him to his bedroom. When and how you figured which was the right door, he had no idea, but he also didn't ponder over this fact too much, too busy with not tripping while kicking his pants out of the way. You both fumbled at the threshold, tangled in clothes you desperately tried to get rid of while kissing each other blindly, until the lawyer finally found an upper hand and pushed you inside and then on top of the bed. 

You started rolling the dress up, but Higuruma shoved your hand out of the way and reached beneath you for the zipper. It gave up so easily he worried for a moment he broke something, but you just graciously wiggled out, freeing your shoulders and breasts. The sight messed with his momentum, a heavy lump stuck at his throat, and he had to close eyes for a moment to not cum on the spot.

You finished rolling your dress down your hips and snapped your legs open with great impatience, "What, have you changed your mind?"

Higuruma cursed under breath, wiped his face with both hands—and immediately dove for it much like a bird of prey. Avoiding the temptation of your hair at all costs, he focused on your tattoos instead, tracing them with his tongue and kissing. He had no idea you had so many of them, in so many interesting places he was dying to explore and to cover with hungry hickeys. 

But he was also aware of the burning hard problem below his waist, so he didn't waste a droplet of time. He reached straight between your legs, hummed at the feel of soft bush brushing against his fingers and spread your labia open.

"So wet for me, baby girl?" He breathed against one of your nipples before sucking on it with fervor. 

A needy mewl was your answer as you bucked your hips, trying to steal friction from his palm. He didn't hesitate from giving you all you wanted, two fingers sliding into you at once. Just the squelching tight sensation was enough for a wave of pleasure to crush against him; with a whimper Higuruma thrusted dry against your side, staining your skin with precum.

"Fuck, you're so sexy…" His voice was breaking with desperation, but he kept a reasonable pace with stretching you. Your tightness was so hot and intoxicating, but he worried he could hurt you if he hurried the matters too much. If he made a mess and embarrassment out of himself because of it, he would take it, as long as you hadn't felt any unwanted pain. 

You read him right yet again and grabbed him by wrist, "I'm ready."

His next move hadn't met the same patience as you whined when he left you on the bed to look for condoms in the drawer.

"It's okay, I'm on pills." You pulled him back by the hem of his shirt and slid it away a moment later, leaving him completely naked. 

Clawing at his shoulders you kept nudging him until he was back in his place, teeth grazing at your neck. You fumbled in sheets warming each other up and experimenting for the last time before the main event, both of you growing impatient beyond tolerance. 

"How do you want it?" Higuruma rasped into your ear and bit at its shell. His cock throbbed with warning at the sweet mewl of yours; he knew he wouldn't last much longer if he kept edging himself.

"You can be rough," you whined without a hesitation as he pushed himself on top of you again. "I'll just tell you to stop, if needed. And hair—"

"Got you."

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips and gave you space to roll on your stomach and climb on your knees. He tried to not stare too much, just a glimpse of your ass arching for him, your hips swaying with invitation, put his blood pressure to alarming limits. Lining himself up at the best angle he could find, Higuruma kneeled between your legs and kneaded your cheeks. He loved how his fingers dipped into your soft flesh, but he didn't quite have enough time to appreciate everything you had to offer.

"Hair," you reminded him, looking over your shoulder at him with such heat in your eyes that a harsh shiver ran down his spine.

"I got you, my sweet girl." Higuruma leaned over your back and kissed the nape of your neck before taking a fist full of your hair. He hadn't pulled on it just yet, waited for the perfect moment when his cock slid into you and nestled comfy between your slick, tight walls.

He needed a break again, an inch away from an early finish. He kept the fire simmering by peppering you with bites and kisses, the grip on your hair kept satisfyingly strained until he felt he could move freely. 

A single deep and shaky breath later Higuruma finally rose straight to his knees, pulling you with himself until you arched your back and mewled. A tinge of pain was audible in your voice, but your cunt fluttered around his cock, and you hadn't said anything, so he followed with the plan, trusting your words from a moment earlier.

"F-fuck…" He muttered as he bottomed out, hips pressed flush to your ass. "Such a good girl you are…"

You stated your limits clearly, but Higuruma didn't want to test his luck. The grip on your hair was more than enough to satisfy his wilder side—and still he refrained from yanking your head too much. Just enough to have your back tense like a string as you were taking each one of his deep, desperate thrusts. More out of curiosity than anything he smacked your ass with a juicy slap, the sight of your body rippling from the impact so powerful he had to slow down and wait through another dangerous close call.

"Hi… ro…" You struggled to call for him, one hand clawing at sheets, the other between your legs as you played with your clit. He clenched his teeth and spanked you again. You responded with loud and enthusiastic moans, the best music he heard in a long, long while.

The finish was really close. Higuruma's hand clenched hard on your hip, maybe even bruising you in process, but then his focus narrowed to your union only and its unbearably hot, slick sensation that kept swallowing him. All he needed was your high first; he didn't want to go there without satisfying you at least this much. Your sweet sounds and trembling body were giving him good guidance—and he kept repeating what he was doing until the tight knot in your abdomen finally snapped and you spasmed in his hold, the tight clench of your pussy sparking friction almost too intense for him.

It didn't take long for him to finish too; a few erratic thrusts later he spilled his seed deep in you and collapsed on top of you, pressing you tight to the mattress.

Catching on breath, almost blind from exertion, Higuruma kissed your neck right under the hairline and buried his nose at the back of your head. You didn't make any sound under him, and he worried he might have pressed you too hard—but as soon as he shifted his weight to side, you budged and protested with a weak mewl.

"Stay." You reached behind and threaded fingers through his hair. He shivered under the gentle touch, almost literally melting when you kept scratching at his scalp and playing with his sweaty strands. 

"I'm staying," he promised and nuzzled close, flush against your back, cock still nestled deep in you. Frankly, even if he wanted, he didn't have much power left, just enough to roll to the side and collapse there for good. But he loved the intimacy of this moment even more than sex before, the warmth of your body, the rhythm of your pulse, the smell of your sweat covering your skin with a thin, sticky layer.

"Fuck, I think we need a shower." He mumbled to himself and chuckled, sure you had snoozed in his arms, but you answered the laughter and reached for his hand.

Higuruma gladly intertwined fingers with yours.

"I'd love to see your shower again." You kissed his knuckles, a smile pressed to your lips. 

[fic-dumpster]

Deer in Headlights | Short stories: An open ribcage

Bonten x Reader | 1.5K Words

Warnings: blood, MDNI, feet smooches, tooth rotting fluff, ppl in love, mentions of Sanzu being high, Takeomi smoking, Kakucho shirtless, it’s mild fr! Very soft.

It was rare the day you were all by yourself. The silence of the apartment drowned you in their absence. What kind of emergency could take the eight of them and make Mochi leave in such a troubled state earlier today?

“Don't stay up waiting Y/N, rest,” Mochi had told you before leaving in a hurry. That means he knew they wouldn't be back soon; you thought to yourself as you saw the digital clock hit 4 A.M.

The sound of the door told you about their arrival, but the silence indicated that something wasn't right. In any normal circumstances, Sanzu would have called your name, Rindou not far behind with the turmoil, Kokonoi scolding them for not leaving their shoes in the right place, even Takeomi, and his coughs, no matter the hour. But not today. Right now, the sound of their shoes hitting the floor of your entrance bounced in the silence.

Slowly you saw the first one come through the hall. A shirtless Kakucho walked in with a tired expression, dried blood on his knuckles, and some specks on his naked torso. Next came Ran, holding a bloodied coat in one hand as he undid his tie with the other, a solemn face on. Then three bodies stepped in; Takeomi helped Rindou bring Sanzu in. At that sight, your body tensed, thinking the worst. Your body reacted on its own, springing to your feet as the book you once held scattered across the floor.

Blood was a common sight in your life nowadays, but seeing Sanzu in such a state was unusual. You couldn't help but fear something had happened, “I- is he-”

“I’m fine, sweetcheeks, don't be making such a worried face,” you were interrupted by Sanzu’s voice, sounding weak and with a distinct tone; you knew all too well. He was high.

Relief ran through your body as you understood. Not very happy with how he dealt with whatever job he had to do and ended up taking those pills, but glad he was back unharmed.

Looking around, you saw they were the only ones back, which means the others must be dealing with whatever problems were left, and by the look of who was missing, you could guess it was more of brain negotiations than muscle power.

A hand on your shoulder startled you; turning around, you saw a Ran with tired eyes, “Y/N, why are you still awake?” concern was evident in his voice. The older Haitani didn't like to see you in this state. Tired, worried, and that horrified expression when you thought something happened to Sanzu.

“How could I sleep? When—when you-,” not wanting to think of the horrendous possibilities that train of thought could take you to, hastily you pulled Ran’s shirt, making the big man clash against your body as you buried your face on the dirtied piece of clothing.

Ran was not expecting such action from you. Not when he was covered in blood and god knows what else. He felt you tremble and breathe heavily against his body. Never in his life had he thought someone besides his brother would care for him this way. “Baby, wait, let me go and clean up,”

Shaking your head, you gripped his shirt even tighter, “I don’t care ‘bout that,” you murmured, “sit,” with ease, you moved Ran to the couch; he didn't fight as you pushed his body, and both of you plopped on the soft surface, “hold on,” you said, as you scrambled away.

Kakucho had stopped walking as he observed your scene with the older Haitani. He, too, wanted to approach you. But decided against it, seeing his hands, he thought he couldn't hold you, right now. He couldn't touch such a pure thing like you with his tainted hands.

Suddenly, two delicate hands enveloped his clenched fist, pulling him out of his thoughts. Kakuxho raised his gaze to your troubled face.

“Come,” was all you said as you tried to make Kakucho move. The man in front of you wanted nothing more than to follow your command. The smooth feeling of your hands on his skin brought so much comfort, but he couldn't now. “Kaku-chan, please,” your voice was almost a whisper. And without realizing it, his feet took the lead, following his heart, following you.

As you pulled Kakucho towards the couch where Ran waited, the rest gathered in the spacious living room. Rindou and Takeomi left Sanzu on the small sofa. The younger Haitani, then, decided to join his brother as Takeomi walked towards the windows, opening some of them, and letting the cold air in. Probably with the intention to light a smoke.

In all honesty, you didn't expect them to come straight to your place after a rough day like this. You were with Mochi until he was also called for the emergency, and with the picture you have of them right now, you understood the seriousness of the situation. And that maybe, they needed you more than they thought.

If someone asked them why they were here instead of their respective homes, nobody would know what to say. It was an automatic response, like blinking or breathing. Coming to you became such a natural response. Before, they would look for a pulse to know they were alive, now? They look for you—you’re the new beating of their hearts.

Takeomi did end up smoking on your window, lost in his thoughts. A slight exclamation from you made him turn around and see the scene that lay on the other side of the room. Sanzu had thrown himself on top of you, nuzzling his head on your stomach as his body rested in between your legs. Completely ignored that you were previously cuddling with Kakucho and the Haitani brothers.

The rest of the men groaned at the collision. Kakucho’s hand, which previously caressed your cheek, now held it, stopping your head from crushing his crotch. “Sanzu!” screamed the almost naked man.

“Sanzu, get the fuck off!” Ran couldn't help but feel most of the impact since he had a significant part of your body on him. Your head rested on Kakucho, and your legs were intertwined with Rindou’s. The latter tried to kick the pinknette away.

“Shut up; it's not fair only you three get to share her!” Said Sanzu, without moving from his spot. You felt him curl up against you as your hand brushed some of his pink strands away from his face.

“The four of you, go clean up,” Takeomi couldn't help but frown when he saw that all of them were still covered in dried blood, “Now,” another chorus of groans filled the place as they all began to move.

Kisses from the four men rained on your face as they moved. Rindou went as far as to smooch your feet. You rolled your eyes at his antics, laughing a little as you saw them march towards the separate bathrooms that your place had.

“So, you’re coming?” You couldn't help but ask Takeomi, patting the spot next to you, knowing full well why he sent the others away.

The older man left his cigarette aside and walked to your form, still resting on the couch. “You shouldn't indulge us that much,” he whispered as he covered your body with his own. Both of his arms circled your waist, lifting you on his lap, facing him. His dark eyes danced all over your face, drinking you in, “I wonder what did I do to deserve you, so beautiful, so good to me, baby,” you saw adoration shine in his expanded pupils. Looking into his eyes, you saw yourself, and somehow, you understood that was all Takeomi could see, only you.

Forgetting everything became such an easy task if you were the only thing in his mind. Takeomi was sure that if you asked any of them, they all would kill anyone, themselves, the world. His thumb caressed your lower lip, thinking of how much power you have on them, and you didn't even know that. Sometimes Takeomi felt his heart would overflow; your delicate hands had opened his ribcage and taken hold of his beating heart.

“Takeomi?” You didn't know what was going through his mind, but the devotion in his stare was overwhelming.

His name in your voice was like the grip you have on his heart strengthened. Takeomi wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didn’t want to stop staring at your beautiful features—soft light from the Tokyo nightlife passed through the windows and fell upon your skin, giving you an ethereal look, only Takeomi could see, only he could enjoy and safeguard in his mind.

“You look gorgeous,” and again, that intensity and sincerity hit you. You wondered if Takeomi had always been this way—honest, simple, and so sure of himself.

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev | Next

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve��s daughter), mult-chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, perv!Eddie, no use of y/n, Eddie POV, references to readers mom, a nice slow build up

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin color or body shape/type.

So the original chapter 4 was a lot shorter than I remember so I combined it with chapter 5 <3

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 4-Chapter 5

Five weeks ago, as one of his oldest friends asked him what was new, Eddie offhandedly mentioned he would be making his way down to Hawkins sometime during the summer to help Uncle Wayne finally transition into the nursing home.

Steve laughed, jokingly asking how is it that the old bastard isn’t in one already? The answer was pure stubbornness, of course.

It was without question that Steve offered a bed whenever Eddie needed it, tutting away the nonsense of Eddie staying in the 8 Motel off ‘Sketch Valley’, aka where all dark corners Hawkins’ parents have spent their years warning their kids about. Not that it really needed the negative press, as the atmosphere was off putting as it is.

Eddie was grateful, to say the least. After earning some bang for his buck he’s gotten used to a lifestyle and the 8 Motel was the only place in Hawkins that resembled a hotel.

It was impulsively decided the week of Eddie would go and help Wayne move after he reluctantly admitted simple tasks like bathing and making toast was getting harder for him and he could use the help. He called Steve, betting on the welcome being open in any circumstance.

In the heat of the moment Steve accepted, more than happy to help out a friend, give him some place to stay and a soft bed in the middle of packing and figuring out the kinks.

You would think his one second eldest daughter who hadn’t been as nearly stealthy about her crush on the rock star as she thought staying for the weekend would off set his willingness to help, but he’s so eager to help your visit doesn’t even cross his mind. Until you show up, bag in hand, your mom’s smile on your face as you give him a big hug and he realizes this might be trickier than he thought it’d be.

Eddie’s trip is long and painful, many assholes on the road obnoxiously refusing to let him pass, long mindlessly winding roads, the urge to piss after spending long hours passing semis. Wistfully watching those same semis pass him as he hides in the bushes.

When the door opened, Eddie was surprised to see a pair of eyes a few inches shorter than he’d expected, framed by hair in a tousled bun, a bikini top peeking out from a pretty summer dress. The first thought was wow, she fills out her dress a lot better than I remember. The second thought, brought on by the freckles decorating your skin, was oh shit this is Steve’s daughter.

‘Aah, little Harrington’ was a way to remind himself and you that this was off limits. No matter how intoxicating your perfume was, or how inviting the knot tying your bikini top together was. Of course as an evil twist of fate Steve had to be showering when he had arrived only to be greeted by temptation personified, his presence needed as he found it stupid easy to fall in conversation with you, keeping his distance so he didn’t do something stupid.

You offer to grab him something, being a good host, but Eddie needed to tread carefully as he recalls Steve jokingly remarking how you had a small crush on him over the years.

He’ll get over the reminder that you’re now in your 20s, filling out a summer dress and making him wonder what present that string is possibly hiding underneath the thin fabric. He had to.

He denied your offer to make him something.

As your summer dress hit the cement, revealing the just barely there bikini he ripped his eyes away from your glowing skin, reminding himself what he was not there to do. Steve found him sitting on the couch absently strumming Carla, immediately accusing his daughter of not offering any hospitality.

He was out the backdoor before Eddie could even protest. At Steve’s insistence Eddie followed him back into the kitchen, forced to sit on the island as he worked at making a hot meal for him. Answering the basic how are you questions was easy, the hardest part was keeping his eyes off you through the still opened double doors.

It became impossible when the plate was set in front of him as Steve left the room to bring Eddie’s bags to the guest room.

The image of you gliding through the pool, droplets scattered on your shimmering skin as your legs broke through the water’s surface tension was alluring in a way that only depleted his appetite for lunch.

His one saving grace to prevent him from making any stupid decisions was Steve’s presence. Until it was gone. Fuck, Steve! Out of all possible weekends to have a work emergency you had to pick this one?

He wished he could forget how gentle you were with his things, how forgiving you were to his dorky heart in ways he himself was still so hard himself about. The teasing tone in your voice tugged at his heart strings and low in his stomach, taking him back repeatedly through the long day of packing.

Your tentative touch along his old doodling, listening to him about his favourite Dark Fantasy Novels, the knowledge about his old adventures, the questions you had asked about Wayne…everything you had dared to say only drew you closer to him.

It was a delicious taste of irony, how Eddie had told himself not to let the close proximity get to him but it turned out to be your curious nature and caring touch that made Eddie drawn to you like a moth to a flame, suddenly craving more intimacy.

The unbearable heat of the following day allowed him to gaslight himself into believing it was all circumstantial, but your tiny gym shorts and the sweat glistening along your skin had invited him, called out to him, before he knew it he had invited himself along on your walk.

Ice cream and a joint had sounded really good, finding himself in too deep when he took a deep nhale of the smoke just to smell your sweat still lingering in the grass, deliberately allowing his fingers to brush against yours.

A sweet whiff of your sweat lingered in the grassy stench, the majority reason for his deep inhale as the smoke filled his lungs. It hit the spot, smirking as he handed it over back to you, letting his fingers linger as a jolt of electricity ran right through him.

He found it too easy to fall into conversation with you, teasing and poking and finding a thrill out of the V that so easily formed between your brows. Found it even easier to use so much as his hand on your shoulder to fix your gait as you start to drift to the right or catch your wrist when you nearly nose dive.

He thought you must be trying to kill him when the smoke blew in his face, wanting to return the favor by planting his lips on yours and exhaling his next turn right to your lungs. The following sound you would’ve let out haunted Eddie, just the potential alone releasing an ache in his gut that he hasn’t felt in years.

He watched in real time as you lost your inhibitions, stumbling over your feet and repeating sentences and losing your train of thought. He wondered if you had felt your skin also ablaze when he kept finding the excuse to let your skin connect. At first it was just an excuse, soon became a necessity once you nearly nose dived, catching your wrist.

You seemed to barely notice.

He’d never quite felt jealousy as intense as it was when you mentioned your ex boyfriend, a concerning level of relief taking over him when he’d realized how little you even cared he was there, too distracted by the ice cream.

Eddie went through a world wind of emotions when you’d started lapping your tongue all over the sweet treat, humming delight at the taste and completely disregarding any present company.

He almost lost his mind when you had admitted your ex had only been mediocre with you in bed. The mental spiral he had gone through was swift and winded him, wondering how if anyone would be lucky enough to find themselves in such a position would they manage to mess it up so royally? Knowing if he’d ever give in to that most primal of desires of his, he’d take advantage of any possible moment he’d have between your thighs, make it his mission to have your legs shiver and shake for him.

He’d lap every drop of arousal you’d give him, taking every whine and moan as gospel, eager and willing to give you everything, craving the taste of you on his tongue, to watch you squirm and for him- it sent all the blood from his brain to his dick.

His spiral is squished, the fucker’s hand suddenly tight on your skin, audaciously demanding he have another trial in mediocrity. It was too easy to bend his arm backward, nearly breaking it in the process as he found great joy in how quickly his tough guy macho front collapsed.

Luckily, you forgot about it like it never happened. Unluckily, you made it your goddamn mission to eat the ice cream as erotically as you possibly could. Eddie didn’t even think you were aware of the drops on your tits, watching as you indulge so eagerly, all your slurps and hums of satisfaction going straight to his cock.

God damn the angel that had decided to fuck with him that day, the one that had told you to spend an ungodly amount of time cleaning up the ice cream which didn’t help had the same colour as a certain substance.

You’ve gone quiet as he is, but he starts to worry that maybe he overstepped or made you uncomfortable. That worry only intensified when you admit you’ve smoked way past your own limit, wondering if he had somehow pushed you into smoking more. He needs you to know its ok to listen to yourself, lifting your chin to look up to him— and fuck he takes in your beautiful face up close.

Eddie convinced himself he fucked up worse when you run off.

As he strums his guitar, the chords and melodies come out all jumbled as the nagging worry only grows. He can usually hear your shower from downstairs but the stream hasn’t started yet. Oh god, what if you’ve greened out? You didn’t smoke very much but he had no idea where that boundary for you was.

You could’ve been normally done after three puffs for all he knew. Maybe he’ll just go check on you, the incessant need to make sure you’re okay after withdrawing as hard as you did eating his brain away.

His knuckles nearly collide with the door when he first hears it.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s hearing until he hears it again, clearer and far more distinct.

Oh.

You weren’t going for a shower.

Eddie stops breathing. In the middle of the hallway, he doesn’t allow himself to move a muscle, two halves of a whole person fighting within himself.

He should move. He should put his ear against the door. He should put some pressure on this aching cock of his. He should offer you help. He should leave.

Your moans are intertwined with sighs and whimpers, no words to indicate anything and Eddie goes nuts wanting to see you.

What are you doing? Are you using your fingers in that tight little pussy of yours? Overstimulating your clit? Using a vibrator— no, he doesn’t hear any buzzing… A choked out swear passes through your lips, god those soft pillowy lips he just wants to spend hours kissing.

Images flash through his brain, your tongue wrapped around the ice cream, the drips landing on your tits you didn’t notice, your doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes— Eddie keels over, grasping at the frame of your door as he finally relieves some of the pent up pressure. Fuck—its not enough.

Your moaning has gotten louder, lost in the pleasure you’re giving yourself. Fuck, he wonders what has gotten you so worked up. Are you picturing anyone with you? Is it a side effect of the weed you smoked? Are you driven mad by him like he is by you? As it gets louder he realizes…oh fuck you’re about to— Jesus.

He hopes he has the privilege of seeing you go over the edge one of these days.

He thinks its over for a moment but you start again…and now Eddie really can’t help it anymore he has to fuck…he hisses loudly when his cock finally comes in contact with his hand, the head flushed with a bright red tint.

No wonder he’s being so careless, all the blood is gone from his brain.

For the first time since apprehensively seeing your nipples peaked from behind your adorable little bikini at the front door he allows himself to imagine himself with you with his hand around himself. He imagines its him, Eddie, making you whine as much as you are, the desperate whines and pathetic little cries coming from you the result of him situated between your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

It would taste better than the ice cream did, he knows it would.

His hand flexes, wishing he could play and grope your tit, watch how the you react to him tweaking your nipple playfully. Fuck— did you just cum again?

“Oh fucking hell!” You swear, not sounding in the least bit tired.

All the needs, the questions Eddie has been masochistically asking himself has him being needy, whispering out little pleases as he needs to touch you, to see you, to know what the hell is on your mind. “Please, please, baby, please, ‘need to see that hot fucking body wiggle and curl and shake and fuck please let it be for me. I want it to be for me.”

Eddie has never been so desperate that he needed something like this, more stoned off the moans that fill the halls rather than the joint he shared with you. It was like he was only a step away from his lips on yours, but that little allowance he gave himself earlier is no longer enough, needing your lips to be carnally captured by his, to hear the whimper you let out when he bites your bottom lip, to lick the swollen sting in an apology.

God he can’t remember the last time the thought of someone like this made him this viscerally desperate. Your moans grow louder, on the precipice of yet another orgasm and suddenly Eddie finds himself hurdling towards the finish line. “Come on baby, one more. Cum one more time for me. Let me hear you, just one more time, please.”

As if his wish was your command, you push over the edge in what sounds like an earth shattering, thigh twitching, eyes rolling orgasm. He’s willing to bet you made a mess on your bed, quaking limbs and gasping after shocks as you wear a prettily stupid smile on your face and turn over your sheets to look for your phone.

Eddie grips the door frame, staring at the sticky substance on his hands he wishes you’d lick up the same way you did with the ice cream soup. For now…he’ll wash it off.

As he shakily washes his hands, he finally reaches his eyes in his reflection, knowing that was the only time he’d let himself indulge in the fantasy you’re practically serving to him on a silver platter.

Twenty minutes later, you come down glowing, a bright smile on your face with wet hair and a new summer dress that has his hands itching to rake all over you. It takes five minutes of contemplating for Eddie to realize that this is what you look like after really good sex. He’s rock hard again, and you’re wearing too much clothes.

He’s flushed at your uncharacteristically good attitude, at the knowledge if you were his you’d be this upbeat all the time if he had anything to do with it.

You ask him if he wants pizza, smiling sweetly when he boops your nose and accept graciously. As the dress sways across the top of your thigh while you walk into the living room, Eddie lets out a small grunt as his forehead meets the cool marble counter.

He’s fucked.

-

The mouthwatering smell of pepperoni and green peppers with sausage made your good mood only increase, after effects of the joints and three orgasms now combined with the pizza turning your sour mood to euphoric. The sun still beats down in a horrid, blazing heat, but for now these things outweigh the muggy outdoors.

You slip the driver some cash, multitasking as you open the box simultaneously to take the first bite. You suffer through the first bite, much too hot as the driver compliments the front foyer in the Harrington house. The door shuts on him as you thank him, Eddie glowering at his wandering eyes over your shoulder that you missed through the entire interaction.

Eddie grabs the boxes from you, cheekily grinning as he insists you must be trying to hurt yourself. You shrug playfully, grinning through the bites that are still much too hot but oh so delicious.

His grin feels looser, more playful, something you wonder if its just a Jedi mind trick.

His hips collide with yours as he goes to grab a plate, serving himself some of his own pizza, (cheddar, chicken, and mushrooms) his hand lingering on your hip as he leans over to steal a piece from your pie, too.

“Who said you could have some of mine?” You ask, reaching for the piece to snatch it back.

He yanks it from your reach, his pretty dimples plain as day as you jump with no such success. “Is that really the best you can do?”

You scoff, jaw dropping as you reach for it again. “It’s easy for you to say when you’ve got—“ you huff, the piece just out of reach, “—3 or 4 inches on me at least.”

One side of Eddie’s pink lips curl up in a playful snarl, “Oh, more than that, I promise.”

You stop jumping, eyes going wide at the innuendo. “Fine, you can have it.”

“Didn’t ask for permission, but I appreciate it anyway, sweetheart,” he winks, taking a big bite from it. Ok, eating pizza should not be this sexy, you muse, watching the tomato sauce spill over his lips, and the tongue that pokes out to lap it up.

His cologne is back to overwhelming your nostrils, enveloping you in a sweet musky scent as you reach to grab some more slices for your plate.

“You know you can have some of mine,” he’s leant in, his voice low and hot breath right next to your ear sending a well defined shiver down your spine.

Your face twists in disgust as you glance at it, reaching for the garlic fingers, instead. “No thanks.”

He laughs, eyebrows raised inquisitively. “What?”

“Not a fan of mushrooms,” you shrug, moving around him for a soft drink. “Soda?”

“You’re missing out,” he insists, taking a big bite out of a particularly mushroomy piece. “Sure, sweets.”

Yesterday Eddie hadn’t gotten closer to you than necessary, always staying at least one pace away from you. Suddenly he’s in your space, leaning in and choking you with his velvet voice and overwhelming presence. That walk must’ve done really well in terms of familiarity, remembering how easy going he usually is with your dad.

“Rent a movie with me?” You ask, nodding your head toward the living room.

“As long as it’s horror and something you’ve never seen before,” he barters, picking up his plate as if he was already planning on joining you.

“Ooh, can we watch Smile?” You flick the tv to on Demand, showing rental options of movies that have just come out.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Eddie easily grabs the remote from your grasp, switching the screen to Horror movies in stead . “It has to be something I have seen. Meaning I’m showing you a Classic. You ever seen The Poltergeist?”

You blanch, shaking your head quickly.

Laughs bubble up his throat, watching how worried your face immediately becomes in a split second. “Don’t worry. We can shut it off if it gets too much, but it’s just such a Classic.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly remembering he’s in his 40s. “Yeah, it came out when you were dropping out of college.”

He flicks your temple, huffing out a laugh at your yelp. “Shithead. Now sit and watch.”

You get comfortable, bringing the ice cold soda can to your lips as the movie turns on, increasingly aware of his presence on the couch next to you.

It was a fucking scary movie, but his consistent explanations made it worth it.

The temperature ended up cooling overnight, allowing for a deep sleep while a single top sheet frayed over your body, delicately protecting it as you sleep well into the morning. You barely remember falling asleep on the couch last night, the memory of Eddie waking you and escorting you to your bed replaying through your mind as you hug your knees and hide your wide smile against your kneecap.

His hand on your waist, thumb swaying against your cotton shirt as he asked how it is that someone manages to fall asleep during The Poltergeist, huffing out a laugh at the subsequent pout that took over your face. His low voice asked if you needed any water, his hand pausing right before it gently caressed your hairline as you drifted asleep.

The hot spray of the shower was just what you needed, doing your best not to over analyze his sudden closeness as you let the steam fill your bathroom. The too small towel barely covers the good bits as you walk towards your bedroom door, water beads scattered across your skin from your damp hair that you probably should’ve spent more time drying.

Not your fault your sister had a nicer en-suite shower than you did.

You’re only a few paces from your bedroom door when you hear what sounds like someone choking, followed by a coughing fit. You whip around to face Eddie covering his mouth with his elbow, hacking as he raises his finger to indicate he’s fine. You couldn’t be sure, but when he lowers his arm it looks like there’s a faint blush across his cheeks.

“Sorry! I was coming to check up on you it’s almost 1’clock in the afternoon,” he coughs, anxiously avoiding your stare as you stand still holding your towel up clenched in one fist. “So-sorry I’ll let you get back to it.”

You smile, taking advantage of his sudden nervous stature, looking suddenly a few inches shorter than he normally does. “You’ve seen me less in a bikini,” you deadpan, missing the way the towel slowly starts to reveal your hips and Eddie’s eyes zoning in on it.

“Right. In any case I made you lunch, if you’re up for it that is,” he tells you, clearing his throat as he plays with the scrunchie on his wrist.

“I thought rockstars all sleep in,” you joke, tilting your head as you look at him.

“I lost the ability to last year,” he quips back, smirking. “You also went to bed last night at 2 so it’s nearly been twelve hours, forgive me if I thought I had the merit to be concerned.”

“The merit?” You can’t resist it, his squirminess as you just stand in a towel is so entertaining you could burst, not even attempting to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I made god damned grilled cheese and tomato soup for you and this is how you repay me?” He exclaims, one pierced eyebrow rising. “Guess you don’t want it.”

“No!” You protest, your fun suddenly forgotten. God, how’d he know your favorite lunch? “Give me five, maybe ten minutes.”

“I’m timing you on that,” Eddie points to his watch, something probably more subtly expensive than you could guess. “9 minutes and counting!”

Eddie climbs down the stairs, finally able to take a deep breath at the bottom as he braces his hands on his knees. The image of you flashed through his mind, the towel hugging your tits pressing up against them perfectly to knock the wind out of him. As if that weren’t enough, the slit of your towel where at first your leg alone was peeking out became wider and wider, slowly revealing the droplets that still lingered on your skin, finding himself envious of water as it trailed down to where he couldn’t see, hands flexing as he wanted to trace that very pattern.

You apparently made no effort with the towel before making your way over to your bedroom because you were still soaked from your shower, hundreds of little droplets covering your skin, some trailing down from your still soaked hair. It was ethereal, watching the shine of your collarbone and that slow rising reveal of your hips.

Damn. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s been hard twice within the same four hours. Morning wood is typical, though more uncommon these days, but a damn collarbone? Is he back in goddamn high school?

The temptation to retreat back to his guest room to relieve himself is too much, but for whatever reason he can’t bring himself to. Distraction…distraction.

Something that caught his eyes during his first day suddenly flashed through his mind, a mess of twigs and leaves and branches that has obviously gone years without any maintenance. By the time you get downstairs in yet another stunning summer dress, Eddie has found an old pair of gardening gloves and has already filled one large black garbage bag, already well on to fill a second one.

His hair is done in a loose bun that has already started to come undone, his tongue sticking out as he tries to pull apart one branch off to break the larger branch down into continuously smaller pieces. He has taken advantage of the Bluetooth speaker Steve keeps for the outdoors, blasting music reminiscent of many backyard sunny afternoons swimming and playing and tussling for hours.

His toned arms are practically bulging as he continues the yard work, glistening in a sheen layer of sweat in the hot sun, as he continually gathers weeds and the straggler branches that have blown into the fire pit over the years.

The fire pit is extremely overgrown due to lack of use, the regular use of the pit gone down significantly once your older sister moved out, no longer taking advantage of the extravagant backyard for major parties. You never had interest in hosting any parties, the clean up for the host not worth it in your humble opinion. Steve continued to hire one of the few pool boys available in Hawkins for the outdoor pool, but also saw no need to continue the maintenance of the pit.

By the time you had put the bowl and plate away in the dishwasher, Eddie had already cleared most of the fire pit and was deep in the shed, from the sounds and swears he was making it was clear he was looking for something.

You were sitting on your favorite poolside chair with a good book and some cut up watermelon you stole from the fridge when Eddie comes out pushing the lawnmower, arms fully extended as he struggles through the admittedly tall grass. A gush of watermelon juice runs down your chin as he wipes his forehead and bends to assess the machine, admiring how his hands gently rub any debris or dust that has collected over the years.

As soon as the loud motor of the lawn mower fills the backyard, it drowns the music so you turn it up on the speakers, reciprocating the single handed wave Eddie gives you in either gratitude or acknowledgement. Even with the pages of the filthy smut filled book opened, your eyes don’t stay on the pages for any longer than a second. It takes for Eddie to go from fence to fence (in a stupidly large backyard) twice for you to read a full paragraph that would usually have you on the edge of your seat.

Sorry, two characters who have finally brought their heads out of their asses and admitted their own feelings and are subsequently hooking up in a place they should not be hooking up with, Eddie Munson’s sweaty biceps are taking front row. You swallow a dry throat, the concept of water suddenly flashing through your stupid head.

You’ve been watching Eddie do manual labour in a hot sun for the better part of an hour now and he’s probably parched. You run off indoors, the air conditioned house tingling as you feel each and every goose bump that forms, looking through the fridge for something, you’re not sure.

For one moment you consider grabbing the lemonade powder from the cupboard, though that might be too on the nose. You scoop the neck of a beer bottle, dripping in condensation and the second tub of watermelon, your sandals flapping loudly until you reach the grass again, meeting him as he fills the garbage bag with the cut grass.

“Need some hydration?” You call out, holding the glass bottle to him.

“Oh, Jesus, thank you,” he sighs, tipping back the bottle, his adam’s apple deliciously bobbing as he engulfs it.

“Should’ve brought something non-alcoholic, if you’re gonna down it that quickly,” you mutter, licking your lips as you watch some of it spill and drip down his chin.

“Nah, beer’s perfec-hey, watermelon, fuck, perfect.” He grabs a larger piece from the tupperware in your other hand,one that by the time he rushes into his mouth has already begun to drip down his fingers, wrist, and forearm. When your eyes flicker back up to his face, he’s already messily chewing on the watermelon, the pink juice flowing down his chin. As he enjoys the juice that is supposedly bursting onto his tastebuds.

Eddie Munson eats slowly, he enjoys every possible second of what he eats. Not an ounce goes to waste, if he can help it from the stickiness to his thumb to the drool on his chin, he takes it all in. It drives you mental with sudden lust, squeezing your thighs together as he goes in for more watermelon. How has the pure erotic connotation of this fruit completely evaded your mind? You might as well have given him chocolate covered strawberries, you slut.

Every piece is worse than the last one, it’s like he’s purposely driving you completely mad with hormones and blinding any sense of logic you might have, your toes curling as he slowly makes his way through the chunks.

“You want some?” Eddie offers, quickly shaking you out of your trance.

You clear your throat, gesturing to the empty tub right next to your chair. “Oh, I already had a tub. Did you promise my dad you would perform free labor for a free weekend at his house, because that’s extortion, you know.”

He laughs, in the middle of taking a sip that quickly turns into a coughing fit. “No, believe it or not, I’m crazy enough to be doing this of my own free will. I also happen to have a lot of experience in landscaping.”

Your lips purse, your eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to recall any mentioning of landscaping in any magazine article or one of your dad’s many stories.

“I mowed lawns around town,” he deadpans, chuckling when he sees it click. “I also mowed lawns around LA when I first arrived. It paid for a few amps, some recording studio time, groceries. Working at the record store only paid so much, you know?”

You nod, grabbing one piece and ‘cheersing’ when he offers, picturing young Eddie Munson who’s still unknown, overworking himself to the bone so that he and his band could one day, hopefully make it. The long hours, the sore feet, the stress of hoping and working, it pinches at your heart, squeezing it but his face doesn’t give away any of the negative feelings that comes from working so hard for so long with such bare results.

He’s looking at it from a lens of nostalgia, how eager he was to learn, the eyerolls of his customers who overpaid him to simply trim their lawn at his answer ‘musician’ when they asked him what he did for work. How across those same lawns its a party trick. Eddie Munson once cut my father’s lawn in the summer of 91, true story.

Half those people he’s probably never met, but he’s willing to be someone’s little white lie, after all he dreamed about days like these.

“I considered getting into the pool cleaning business but it was too much to learn and too many bored moms looking for a fantasy in their pool boys. I’m good, I just needed the money. I heard that lost it’s merit after three.”

“Who’d you learn that from?” You grin, seeing a twinkle in his eye.

He laughs again, chewing on some more of the pink juicy fruit you couldn’t help but watch carefully.”Gareth,” he muses, speaking of his band’s drummer who bores a sick goatee and once blonde long locks he chopped off a few years ago much to the dismay of many fangirls. “He said it was the best gig ever then took it (and his gear) back the following week.”

From what you know about their band and their quirks, that sounds like Gareth.

“I’m gonna get back to it. I should be done at least the brunt of it in an hour or so. Do me a favor and keep checking me out, it’s doing numbers for my already large ego,” he winks, taking the final sip of his beer.

You go speechless, your mouth that was once somewhat hydrated from the melon now cotton dry. “I was-I was not–”

“I was teasing you, sweetheart. But hey me thinks the lady doth protest too much”

“I didn’t even protest!” you argue, bearing your forearms toward him feeling like you’re in the middle of a performance with how amazingly dramatic and tense the situation has become.

“Oh, no, you couldn’t even speak,” Eddie smirks, leaning over to yank on the cord of the machine, drowning out your argument.

Not like anything’ll happen, anyway, you shrug, walking back over to your book.

Sometime in the later afternoon after you help Eddie put all the garbage bags at a hidden corner of the yard, he decides to go in for a shower, his stinky musk acting as a strong pheromone.

You don’t even notice him come back down, sat on the cool couch indoors as the filthy scene has finally caught your attention. The character is overcoming her first orgasm and bewildered when her love interest goes in for more when your flow is interrupted by Eddie, as bag of marshmallows between his gritted teeth and cradling a few more indecipherable ingredients as he nods toward the outside.

When you hit the backyard the outdoor string of lights has been turned on, two chairs by the fire in the pit one with a blanket, soft rock music on in the background as Eddie puts down all the ingredients.

“Wh-what is this?” You ask him as your heart pounds in your chest hard.

“I uh–” he clears his throat, biting his thumb, “I just thought we could enjoy this fire pit that has spent so many years feeling useless. Let’s give it a night of change.”

“You cleaned out the fire pit because you felt sorry for it?” You clarify, shooting a pointed glance toward him.

“Not in so many words,” he reframes, scratching his neck. “Though I thought it must be jealous of his neighbor for still getting maintained all these years.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muse, staring up at his brown eyes that don’t reach yours. “And sweet,” you add, biting back giggles when he breaks into a smile. “I’m sure our fire pit would love a night where he’s the center of attention again.”

“He?” Eddie points out, the eyebrow piercing hitting the sunset as they meet his hairline.

“You’re the one who said it must be jealous” you point out, walking over to the chair with the blanket.

As soon as your thighs hit the chair, Eddie wastes no time. “So, What was your dad’s opinion of what was it, Mark? Matthew?”

“Andy,” you mend, not caring if even got the name wrong.Getting the first letter wrong somehow made you feel better, as Andy was barely a blip on your radar as far as your weekend goes. “And he hated him. Tried to hide it, didn’t do a very good job of it, though.”

“Your dad has hated many boyfriends from what I can remember,” Eddie mutters, legs crossed as he stares right into the fire. The fire makes his brown eyes look brazenly dashing and a little on the wild side.

“My sisters and I didn’t all have the best track record of boys in high school,” you admit, suddenly feel the elephant in the room, or yard, that is your age difference that still has yet to be discussed. “College boys are even worse, honestly.”

“Men aren’t much better,” Eddie shakes his head, squinting comically.

“I think there’s a few good ones out there,” you mutter, only staring straight into the fire. “But back to my dad. Andy in specifically I think was his least favorite in the bunch because they just butted heads, all the time.”

“Why stay with a guy like that for two years?” Eddie asks. You look at him, having answered a question that feels accusatory from anyone else with defensiveness. The need to defend the seventeen year old girl dies in your throat when you see his expression, complete curiosity. “Expert in gaslighting and lovebombing and making an insult feel like a compliment. God all the time I wasted on him feeling like I wasn’t good enough–” you sigh, shaking yourself out of it. “Looking back it’s a parade of red flags.”

“Everything in hindsight,” Eddie amends, colliding his shoulder with yours as an act of comfort. “Sorry to bring it up he just seemed–he bothered me.”

“Acting like he’s too smart for college is so like him,” you admit, shaking your head. “What a dick.”

Eddie bursts out in laughter, handing you a cold opened beer bottle. Usually you turn down the wheaty drink if you can, but for his kindness and grand gesture you bring the bottle to your lips anyway after cheersing with him.

He’s in the middle asking about how you think you will do once you continue into your fifth year of college working towards your masters in psychology when the playlist shuffles into a song by Corroded Coffin, one of the only genuine love songs the band has ever produced.

“I love this song,” you muse, swaying to the start of a luck struck tale. It speaks of a girl at 18, wild smiles and pretty eyes meeting a boy of 19, lost and alone and aimless.

“I bet you do,” Eddie smiles, no malice behind his words.

You jerk, sending him the silent question of why?

“You really don’t know?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with wide eyes when you confirm. “Huh.”

“What?” You ask, staring to hum along when the upbeat chorus comes along, just two kids in a crazy world, how simple can this be just a boy and a girl, softly smiling at the hook and title of the song. “What?”

“I wrote this song about your parents,” Eddie mutters, looking off past the fire. “I started writing it early on in their relationship but only realized I’d release it when your dad proposed. I knew when he met her that she was the one for him.”

You smile, only vague memories of your mom flittering around in your mind, mostly hospital visits and playing cards with her and your siblings as she wore a beautiful vivid scarf on her head. “I didn’t know that,” the pressure that builds behind your eyes blurs the orange flames, the bridge suddenly making far too much sense and wondering how you’ve never connected it before.

Or why no one has ever told you.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, the beer bottle pausing on the way to his lips.

“I’m okay,” you smile, one stupid tear breaking free on the last chorus. “Just taken aback.”

“I’m sorry if I–” he starts, his voice drowning in remorse.

“It’s ok,” you nod, taking a sip of the alcohol to kill some of the grief you felt. “Really. Can we talk about something else now?”

He nods, walking around the fire to a few things you still haven’t noticed, pokey sticks. He sheathes a marshmallow on one of the prongs followed by another, hanging the pokey to you carefully. “S’more?”

You grin, nodding as you grab it from him and ignoring the warmth from his fingers brushing against yours gives you. “I suppose. Although it seems we are ignoring our dinner,” you joke, pointing out the hot dogs he also brought out.

“Dinner schminner,” Eddie dismisses, sitting back down. “We have s’mores, instead.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” you accuse, resting the stick on the edge of the pit. “Wait til my father hears about this,” you mutter in your best british accent, terribly butchering it.

“First of all,” Eddie huffs, unable to hold in his laughter. “That was the worst English accent I’ve ever heard in my life. That sucked.” Your fists collides with his knee, barking out laughter at his ‘ow!’ “Hey! I’m roasting marshmallows here, careful, it’s a very delicate process!”

“You deserved that, even if it’s true you just made me cry and now I’m emotionally vulnerable. I could’ve very well burst into tears from your insult!” You can’t even take yourself seriously, bursting into giggles by the halfway point. “Okay, what was second of all?”

“I don’t like to brag but I once met Daniel Radcliffe at one of my shows,” he shrugs, as if it were no big deal, failing to hide how gleeful it t ruly made him feel.

“First, you seem like the type of person who loves to brag, second, you seem very excited about it and I’m not at all jealous you got to meet him. He seems so cool and genuine.”

“That’s just the thing, he really is that cool and genuine and it was the most bizarre thing,” Eddie shakes his head, twirling the stick around. “The most random of people come to our shows and I’m always shocked when they say they like us because it still feels so unreal.”

“Twenty some odd years and it still feels like a dream?” You ask, watching a look of bewilderment take over his face that could never be faked. “That’s really cool, oh shit.” You tug in your marshmallows, one of them extra crispy as you blow out the flame. “Fuck,” you mutter, having hated burnt marshmallows.

“Wanna trade? I love the burnt ones,” Eddie grins, holding out the perfectly golden brown mallows.

You rapidly nod, biting on your bottom lip.

Its a struggle to get the gooey treats onto the chocolates and graham crackers, neither of you having the foresight to unwrap the damn things before roasting the star pieces of the treats. Eddie takes the trouble all in good stride, laughing as one of yours almost falls off the prong before he can get the graham cracker ready.

The first one of yours is already done by the time he sits with his own, having insisted he didn’t need help and to go fucking sit down already.

“How are they?” He takes a bite, nodding in approval before you can answer.

“Really good,” you hum, your voice muffled in chocolatey gooyness as your fingers continue to get sticky.

“Hmm, yeah that hits the stuff,” he appreciates, wet smacking as he works through his s’more so quickly you’re not even sure he was chewing. “Oh, just what I needed after a long day of yard work.”

“You did that voluntarily,” you remind him, taking alas the final taste of a delicious s’more. It might’ve been the best damn one you’ve ever had.

“Guess I just needed a reminder of what a long day of hard work looks like,” he shrugs, pausing in his bites as something crosses his mind. The thought goes away just as quickly, continuing to finish off his s’more.

The sun has nearly disappeared into the horizon, a beautiful dark blue starting to overhaul the once crystal. The conversation dwindles down, the loud crack of the fire pit and background music filling the air instead.

You think it’s the perfect ending to your days spent together.

Until.

‘“I have a stupid idea.” He says, his knee knocking yours.

“Hmm?” you ask, hazy from your third beer.

“In the mood for a swim?”

-

Thank you so much for reading! Remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr!

Main taglist: @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovely @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420 @joequiinn @arlxtoa

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I can’t wait for y’all to read the next ch

I post each part every Thursday, the taglist is still open <3

[moonstruckme]

helloooo, i have a request if its possible♡

since we got figure skater! Sirius..... Do you think we could get hockey player! James x figure skater! reader? Maybe they go to the same place but the place where they practice its kinda shitty so its literally kinda like an across the hallway situation where the hockey practice happens on one ice rink and when you leave you can walk thru the ice rink of the figure skaters that its on another section of the place IDK I'M NOT AN ARCHITECT SORRY

BUT THE POINT ITS, that one day James leaves practice later than usual and he's walking to get out but he heards his favorite song playing and he goes to see whats up because its his favorite song ever! and goes to the other ice rink and sees the reader practicing and inmediatly he has the biggest crush ever and its almost dreaming about a house and three kids with that cute girl

idk i think i explained myself like sht but hope you like the idea! cause i think it would be soo cute

Hi lovely, you explained yourself perfectly! Thanks for being so patient with me, I hope this is alright <3

hockey player!James x figure skater!reader ♡ 718 words

James’ entire body is pleasantly sore, and he’s very much looking forward to going home to a nice, hot shower. 

“Do you and Moony want to go get breakfast tomorrow morning?” he asks Sirius as they leave the locker room. The two of them had taken longer than usual changing out of their gear, Sirius filling him in on the absolute hell week Remus had at his new job. To hear Sirius talk about it, all the other professors are simply jealous of Remus. James is sure that’s partly true, but he’d bet they need less reason than that. Somehow, James had thought leaving school would mean emerging into a more mature world, but adults seem just as petty as teenagers. Maybe pancakes and a good, uplifting chat would do something to take the sting out of Remus’ first week and help prepare him for the next. 

Sirius cuts James a sideways look, gray eyes narrowed. “Breakfast at what time?” 

“I was thinking six, six thirty.” Sirius scoffs, and James grins. “Only joking. How’s eleven?” 

“Still too early,” Sirius grumbles, “but we’ll go.” 

James bobs his head, pleased to have a course of action for helping his friend. “Ask Moons where he feels like going, and just…” He hears a faint, familiar melody. “...just let me know.” 

“Sounds good.” Sirius pushes open the door, but James has stopped. He’s looking back towards the rink, intrigued. “Coming?” 

James waves him off. “In a bit. See you tomorrow.” 

Sirius makes an amused sound, not unused to James’ diversions, and goes. 

James follows the sound of his favorite song, unabashed about bopping his head to the beat as he approaches the rink. He knows figure skaters sometimes use the rink after his hockey practice has wrapped up, and he absolutely has to see who’s choreographed a routine to this. He comes to a stop near the edge of the bleachers, and watches through the tempered glass as one lone skater launches into a turn. 

This wouldn’t be the track James would have thought of for a figure skating routine, but frankly, you’re doing it justice. Your movements are springy and nimble as you glance across the ice, one complicated-looking move to the next to the next. It seems like both skates are never touching the ground for more than half a second. There’s a lot to be said, probably, about your skill, your technique, but James is a philistine. All he can think about is how pretty you look. 

You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Graceful in your movements and seraphim in your countenance. A wisp of hair has freed itself from the confines of the rest and whips about your face, but you don’t seem to notice it, your gaze steady and lips just slightly pursed in concentration. 

James would never tell his friends because they’d mock him to hell and back, but he does believe in love at first sight. Only under particular circumstances, though. The sight has to be good enough—meaning, he has to see some aspect of who that person is behind a pretty face. You certainly do have a pretty face, and you’re dancing to his favorite song, and James doesn’t understand how he could ever be expected to not be totally enamored with you after this one spectacular look. He worries that if you glance over, you’ll see him with giant cartoon hearts boinging out of his eyes on springs. 

The song ends, and you spin to a stop. James’ breathing stops, too, as your gaze lands on a point not ten feet to his right. He wonders if he’s being creepy. It’s not like this is a private rink, and James wouldn’t be weirded out if he spotted someone watching him running drills or something (actually, if it were you he’d be over the moon about it), but he’s been told not everyone feels like he does about that stuff. And though he hardly thinks of himself as intimidating, James is also a big guy. He wants to woo you, not spook you.

You skate to the edge of the rink to restart your music, and James slips out. He hears it blaring softly behind him, and he probably looks like a total idiot when he grins and dances out the front door. An idiot in love.

[orcusfang]

Whence the Sorrow Flow [Part One]

Pet!AU Aizetsu x pregnant Fem!Reader

'As the owner of a well known demon grooming salon, business has flourished the years following its opening. All kinds of demon pets are brought to you day in, day out. And with a partnership with the local rescue, one would think you’ve secured a comfortable living in this bustling city. However, nothing could be further from the truth, and wherever you go an unwanted shadow that isn’t your own is intent on haunting your every step. You try to go on with your life, but after months of enduring this hell you’re mentally in the gutter. When a longtime friend from the local rescue brings in a timid and anxious demon for a makeover, he once again tries to convince you to adopt a demon of your own. Usually you shrug off the suggestion, never giving it much thought. But now that the question whether or not you still considered yourself safe can’t be answered with certainty anymore, you consider the possibility. And he just happens to know the perfect demon for your situation…'

--------- A/N: So, I started this back in August last year and never really wrote this with the intention to post it? Most of it was inspired by a RP I had with a friend at the time, but I shared two previews on Twitter over the past months and people really seemed to like it and have been asking about it ever since. So… I’m posting it! Warnings: This story contains darker themes, domestication, heavier topics, pregnancy, stalking, master/pet relationship. And for later chapters: mating cycles/heat, dubious consent at times and eventual explicit sexual content. A reminder, this story is written with an adult audience in mind. So even though not all chapters have sensitive matters in them; no minors, please! Read at your own risk! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know if you liked it :] Word Count: 9732

As the owner of a demon grooming salon in the center of a bustling city, you had seen just about any demon you could’ve dared to imagine. After almost four years of being in this profession, you didn’t think you could still lay an eye on a demon and genuinely find yourself surprised and impressed. From the most pampered and arrogant demons that actually considered themselves above you; to the most shy and anxious of demons – you’d seen it all as far as you were concerned.

It was fascinating how a demon's place and status in the world depended on their owners. And yet, it was utterly unfair to those born in unfortunate circumstances.

However, every once in a while the lovely folks over at the local demon rescue were eager to drop by a demon that would forever expand your experience, and it just so happened that today was rescue demon grooming day.

It wasn’t an official day of any sorts, but whenever one of the workers there reached out to you for an appointment for one of their demons, you made certain to not take on any other clients that same day. There had been a time when you did, but… you’d learned the hard way to not book anyone else.

Because the demons that got rescued by them? They were often in very bad and questionable shape, and there was simply no predicting what you would see with a new appointment with the rescue group. No matter how many times they had visited for a makeover on a demon they deemed suitable for adoption, every single time they stepped through the salon’s door with the demon in tow, and you witnessed the state they were in – something deep within your heart withered just a little more.

So when your contact at the rescue, Takagi, called to book an emergency case, you knew you were in for a long and tough day. It wouldn’t be the first time a rescue took hours before they even looked somewhat presentable. Not counting the time it took for the demon to grow comfortable enough to let you work on them, and a strange gut feeling told you that this rescue might just be one of those cases.

That, or it was the other situation in your belly making you feel iffy.

Despite being five months in, you still had a hard time separating the two.

“Makes me wonder for how much longer I’ll be able to properly do this work.” You mused to no one in particular, only to fill the tense silence before the rescue’s arrival as you arranged all the proper tools you could possibly need. You hoped you could continue to work for a while longer, you were a one-person income after all. And rent didn’t discriminate, pregnant or not.

There were plenty of savings that would keep you going for a while, but the less you had to depend on that, the better. Especially now that your life was going to change drastically in about four months from now, and you needed to be prepared for any unexpected events. There was no saying there wouldn’t be complications, either.

Once all the brushes, scissors and shearing devices were put in place and all shampoo and soap bottles were refilled, you made a small pile of thick towels along with a happy hoodie that was certain to lessen the stress for today’s demon. All the while, you couldn’t help but wonder what demon would walk through the front door of the shop today.

Rescues were often a miserable sight, but you’d be lying if they weren’t a great way to learn and improve your methods. In fact, it was thanks to the collaborative events between you and the local rescue that you’d gotten such a reputable name to begin with.

That, and you were helping the demons as well. Aside from the obvious cleaning, you were also giving them an instance where a human didn’t touch or handle them with a violent touch. Considering most rescues came from abusive or neglected houses, hopefully that small experience would aid them in their first step to trust humans once again. Or for the first time.

Humming, you entered the space where you always bathed, rinsed and showered your demons, placing the bottles of soap and shampoo at a higher ledge to keep them from being launched across your shop thanks to trashing demons that hated to be wet and washed. It wouldn’t be the first time your workshop got coated in bubbles and had you and the demon slipping in all directions.

The demons would be fine. A little spooked, but fine. They were tied to the elastic leash on the wall so they wouldn’t go far, but you still had a sore spot on the back of your head when you once slipped and hit the wall. And that had been over a year ago.

You peeked at the wall clock while rinsing your hands by the large sink. The numbers showed 10:45, meaning that the appointment would be in about fifteen minutes. That is, if it were a normal client.

If there was something you’d come to learn the past years, it was that Takagi, your contact over at the local rescue loved being way on time. That meant that any moment now he would–

The faint noise of a car pulling up resounded outside your shop, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, way too early. Just as expected.”

The opening of a car door and closing followed in their wake, and footsteps approached as the obscured window revealed two shadowy silhouettes at the front door.

The doorbell jingled reassuringly and you quickly snatched your apron bearing your shop’s logo – a cute illustration of a generic demon sitting in a bubbly bathtub– threw it on and approached the shop entrance.

You had hardly unlocked the door before an eager “Gooood morning, (Name)!” boomed in your face, accompanied with a flashy grin from the tall man. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Absolutely not.” You chuckled, already unable to resist the contagious eagerness of the older man. “Good morning, Takagi. Are you certain you don’t just want to plan the appointment 15 minutes earlier than usual instead?”

“If that suits you better,” He said casually, knowing that you were just messing with him. “but I fear I’ll just end up arriving early either way. That’s just in my nature, you know?”

Takagi was one of the older employees at the local rescue, and your official contact there. Whenever there was a demon that needed to be brought over to your salon, he was always the one responsible for arranging it. Ironically enough, you had known the man for much longer than you had the shop, for he was an old friend of your mother. As such, he was a trusted family friend, even if your only contact were these visits that happened a couple times a month.

And your mother never admitted to the claim… but it was very likely that she had recommended your shop to the man, thus marking the beginning of your good relationship with the local rescue and boosting your reputation in one fortunate move.

Though, because of an injury that happened on the job where a terrified demon had lashed out and caught him by surprise, Takagi had been unfortunately incapacitated for four whole months, and today was actually the first time you both saw each other again in quite a while.

Takagi quickly studied you. “Ah but what am I saying? First and foremost (Name), I believe congratulations are in order!”

He of course, meant the evident bump you lugged around every day, and you nodded with the biggest grin plastered onto your face. No matter how many people congratulated you, it felt just as wonderful as the first. Even if you were starting to run out of interesting responses other than: “Yes, thank you!”

“How far along are you?” He almost seemed as joyous as you, and you knew from experience that he was genuinely happy.

“Five months now,” Your hands rested instinctively on your small bump protruding slightly from underneath your apron. “The baby is healthy and growing well, and I’m heading in for another ultrasound in two weeks.” You heaved a sigh. “I keep thinking I’m used to it, but I can’t help but feel anxious with each visit.”

His dark bushy brows shot up. “Well, of course! It does concern the health of your little one, and as a parent you want nothing more for them to be safe. It’s fine to feel nervous – in fact, I think I’d judge you more if you weren’t.”

You blinked at him, surprised that you hadn’t thought of it that way yourself. Before you could say anything in return, however, his bright and eager gaze took a sharper edge to it. “That said… I heard what happened with your partner. Are you doing ok?”

As much as your pregnancy delighted and made you eager to be a mother – the overwhelming shadow that your former partner, the father, had left behind unfortunately haunted your every step, and you feared this question was coming.

Especially since you’d lived pretty much in a mental haze ever since it happened. If anything the responsibility of the shop kept you going, gave you a daily purpose rather than rotting in your own misfortune and potential horrors.

“It’s… better this way.” Truth was, you really didn’t want to talk about him. To grant him any more attention than his actions already demanded. If you had to convince yourself to believe you and your child would be better off without him even if it was a downright lie, then you would cling onto that lie with all your might until it turned out to be real.

Suddenly feeling very self aware, you shyly lowered your gaze downward, only for it to land on the silhouette kneeling behind the man – the demon he brought along. With Takagi’s chatter and sudden questions, you’d been distracted from the demon’s presence. The fact that it was frozen in place without making the slightest noise certainly helped to remain unnoticed.

The smallest hint of the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen peeked at you between large, thick clumps of dark hair, and for a passing second you found yourself strangely entranced – as if you witnessed a beautiful, fleeting moment.

The moment that defined whether a demon tolerated your presence, based on their first instinctual impressions. An instinct that abused and neglected demons took as reality, often influenced by the events of their past, and one where you had to tread carefully.

But the moment was fleeting, because what your gaze focused on next took your breath away, and you could swear your heart dropped straight through your big pregnant gut, and right into your bloated feet.

All you could see was just a gigantic pile of neglected, overgrown, uncared and matted dark hair. In the way the demon was leaning back on their haunches, kneeling down to the ground, the hair literally covered them from head to toe. Only the slightest glimpse of their face occasionally managed to peek through the clumps of thick filthy hair.

You immediately recognized the first signs of the demon’s neglect. Their hair hadn’t been cut for the longest of time, or in the worst case scenario – ever.

Whoever previously owned them clearly never bothered to brush, take care or send them to a groomer. You felt like you were staring straight at a bunch of bird nests somehow mushed together into one chaotic structure. You could hardly see their actual face, and you cringed visibly as you caught a whiff of the downright putrid smell that reeked off of them.

Adding onto your mental list, you began to doubt whether or not they ever got a bath either. And that was just from what you could see with a quick glance. There was no saying what you would encounter once you got to work on them. God, the poor, poor thing.

You had to get to work.

“But please, come in. And I’ll get you two settled.” You stepped back to allow the man and demon to enter. Suddenly very motivated to start and try to lessen this demon’s predicament rather than dwell on what happened to you in the past.

“Don’t mind if we do! I must mention though, I cannot stay for long.” Catching the hint, no further questions regarding your former partner’s dubious actions were thrown in your way, and Takagi entered the shop with the demon cautiously in tow.

Once inside, the demon immediately retreated behind the man’s legs. The hair covered head moved a bit, and you realized the demon was checking out the new room he found himself in. All the different scents must make him anxious. If he could even smell anything properly with that wall of crusty hair obscuring his senses.

Takagi smiled tenderly down at the demon and then back to you. “Dear (Name), this is one of our newly rescued demons. He’s very shy and anxious, but thus far he’s been nothing but a gentle demon.” He gestured at the creature, and upon feeling both your direct gazes on him, he ducked inward a bit more.

“What’s their name?” You ask quietly, not wanting to spook or intimidate the poor thing any more than it already was in this new, daunting environment.

“His name is Aizetsu…. I think.” He chuckled a tad awkwardly. “This one was rescued along with three others, and one of them felt open enough to share their names to us, and… nothing else. Upon asked, they don’t want to say which name belongs to which demon, so we’re kinda still in the process of figuring out who is who.” He shrugged casually. “But this one responded to Aizetsu, so we assume that’s his name. But we don’t know much about him aside from the fact that he’s male.”

You nodded and peeked back at the demon hiding behind him. “So, what do I need to know about Aizetsu’s behavior before I start preparing him?”

“You probably noticed just by looking at him, but we found him and his three brothers in a severely neglected state.” Takagi began, the former pleasantness draining his features into something more sharp. “We don’t know all the details regarding their former owner, because it’s actually the police that found out about their existence. Supposedly they were there to arrest the owner on some pretty severe charges. None of those charges had anything to do with neglecting demons, unfortunately.”

No, of course they weren’t. As much as you and Takagi tried your hardest to improve demon lives, most of society really only saw them as exotic pets with no rights. Meaning that there were no rules set in place that would punish abusive behavior or other forms of mistreatment, and that people usually weren’t punished for it.

“They investigated the rest of the house, and found these four in separate rooms in the basement in just… awful, awful conditions.”

Your stomach churned, and yet some terrible curiosity needed to know to sympathize. “Meaning…?”

He scrunched his nose and shook his head. “Just the worst neglect someone could imagine. You’re really better off not knowing the details, (Name). Me and the others at the rescue having seen it is more than enough.”

Your gaze went back on the trembling demon; your heart aching in sympathy as well as disgust. You wondered what was going through the demon’s head right now, as the two of you discussed details of his former life.

“So, when they found the neglected demons in dire need of help, and cops being cops, they wanted to put a bullet through their heads. Probably to project the blame onto their owner so they could forge an even bigger record on the man.”

Your hands cupped your mouth in horror. “No! But then, how did they…?”

“Fortunately there was a female officer with them that’s worked with us before, and she ended up having to beg them to allow her to call our local rescue.” Takagi heaved a deep sigh. “Even then, for us to be allowed to go there, we had to reassure them that they would never hear about the demons and their own involvement ever again. Not from others, not from the news. For all we know, these demons were simply dropped on our front porch by some random stranger.”

“Did they seriously threaten you?” One could argue the fact he was telling you of this right now rather than keeping it quiet, but he was a man of honesty, and you were certain he provided you the truth because he really wanted people to understand what the demon went through. He was that committed to helping them.

“It’s all in a day of our work, (Name). Once the cops finished flashing their authority, we went in there to capture them.” He glanced down at the demon behind him. “This guy was the first and easiest to catch. Poor thing was so immobilized by fear that my colleague went into his room and just scooped him right out. The other three though?”

He whistled, and the demon behind him startled at the high-pitched noise. To which he flashed him an apologetic smile. “They gave the crew the workout of their lives. It took us truly five hours before we finally managed to catch and drag out the last one, but it was worth every single moment of it…”

“Aizetsu and his siblings have been with us for a few days now, and we allowed them time to realize and understand that their living quarters have changed, and have been feeding and looking after them gradually to try and get them get used to human contact.”

Your brows raised curiously. “And how’s that been going for you?”

Takagi loosed out a troubled breath. “Let’s say we have varying degrees of progress on the four. Aizetsu here has made the most progress because he tolerates being touched.” Takagi sucked in a breath. “Then again, even though he does, he also shows hardly any response to it, so that’s a bit of a concern. We think he might be too scared to have a reaction, unlike two of his brothers.”

Curiosity got the best of you, and that’s where you made a mistake: “Will they be up for adoption, too?”

You only realized your mistake once Takagi’s eyes suddenly flashed with mischief. “Once they pass every test, they eventually will. I have my concerns about the angriest one, but I won’t stop until he shows even the slightest hint of warming up to someone.” His eyes narrowed cheekily at you, and you knew exactly what he was going to say next.

“Why? Have we finally reached the point in time where you’re thinking about adopting one of your own?”

As was evident with your many past encounters, Takagi never allowed the opportunity to ask slip through his fingers. Back in the day, he was so shocked to find out that despite being someone who was very experienced handling demons, and bearing a similar passion and love for their wellbeing as he did – you didn’t have a demon yourself.

There were a handful of reasons for this, which you’d made very clear to the man whenever he returned to the subject. Your excuses usually ranged from: I’m just too busy to properly take care of one. To the more reasonable: My house is rather small, and I don’t think I can offer them a home they would thrive in.

Seeing right through you, his brow always raised as if to say really? Those reasons wouldn’t have stopped anyone else from adopting one, and a lot of them were far from as qualified as owning one than you did. You knew that if a demon somehow ended up in your care, you would do your utmost best to give him the best life and home the demon could wish for.

Still, you’d been set on your decision for the past years since you started this work. You weren’t entirely sure why you kept making excuses, but somewhere along the line you’d started to believe them.

Maybe it was so you wouldn’t have to think any further about the true reason, which had nothing to do with you in the first place. And now that Takagi was asking you about it once again… you were feeling tempted to spill it to him, knowing there was nothing left to pretend.

But you caught yourself before you could give into the sweet temptation of spite, knowing it added absolutely nothing worthwhile. If anything, it would most likely sour part of your day as well as Takagi’s…

And again, you had to remind yourself that you didn’t want to give the source of said reason any more thought and attention than he already demanded on a daily basis.

“You’ll never cease trying to pair me with one of your rescues, won’t you?” A soft laugh passed your lips, knowing that he really only did because he was convinced it would only add more to your life, and he really wanted that happiness for you. “I hate to disappoint you, but my reasons haven’t changed. In fact, in about four months from now I’ll even have less time to spend on a demon than I do now.”

“So you think!” He countered enthusiastically, jabbing a finger up in the air. “But I’d argue that adopting a more gentle and patient demon into the household is very beneficial with a little one around. Especially now that your partner isn’t around anymore, and combined with your grooming salon a demon could potentially help you to relieve the pressure put on you.”

You shot him a look. “Adopting a demon to take over my chores isn’t really a prime reason why I’d reconsider getting one, Takagi.” The last thing you wanted to do was turn a creature like that into a servant of sorts.

He shook his head, intent on getting his message across. “No no, you’re misunderstanding. Of course they could help in the household, but I’m just saying. It’s tough being a single mother with a newborn and a job that demands a lot of you. There are demons specifically bred and trained to be gentle and, uh, perhaps important for your particular situation – protective of their owners and their children.”

The latter part had you looking up with a snap – so taken back by what he was implying – that you actually glared at the man for a passing heartbeat before catching yourself. But not before you saw the realization settle on your friend’s face.

A sudden chill had taken to your skin and blood, causing your very core to tremble.

Looks like Tagaki knew more of the finer details of your recently changed situation than he initially let on.

You blinked nervously. “Mom told you?”

The man slowly nodded, his features stark.

“How much did she tell you?” You tried, urging the frustration heating your blood to simmer back down. You hated it when your mother decided to share private things when you clearly asked her not to do so, everything was already complicated enough, and the last thing you wanted was others to try and butt into what you should do.

“Enough for me to know you need protection.” He provided, his gaze stern yet concerned.

A growing pressure of panic threatened to squeeze your throat as you scrambled for excuses to cut this topic short. “The police have everything under control, so that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m just saying,” Tagaki said carefully, choosing his words. “A demon could keep you safe from someone like him. From what your mother told me, it appears you’re under a great ordeal of stress, and that’s not good for you nor the little one you’re carrying around.”

Clenching your jaw to keep yourself from snapping at the man, you honestly didn’t know why his concern for your well being felt like such a stab to your back. Not to mention your mother for just blabbering about this so openly to random people. What if word of his actions leaked out and somehow reached him? What would happen then?

Your gaze landed on the clock, where the numbers marked 10:59. It was time to get to work; you had to do what you were meant to do today – your escape.

You took a breath to calm your rising anxiety, turning back to Tagaki. “If… it gets out of hand, I’ll let you know.” It was the most basic answer you could give without outright telling him you would consider adopting a demon, but truly, you had no other idea how to get him to stop discussing this topic. “Alright?”

Because he meant well, he really did. Even if your fight and flight instinct was urging the opposite, and that wasn’t any of his fault.

Tagaki must’ve caught the glimpse within your gaze that you were simply not up for discussing this, and nodded. “I told your mother the same thing, if there’s ever anything you need; you can always contact me. I might not always be able to help with everything, but I’m sure we can find a solution together with the three of us.”

“Thank you,” And you meant it. “But the last thing I want to do right now is stress myself even further by thinking about him unless I have to.”

Tagaki’s eyes hardened just ever so slightly, not satisfied with your answer even though he seemed content to drop the matter for now. “Understandable.”

All the while, the demon just sat behind the man. Quietly and observing the shop he currently found himself in; showing no interest whatsoever in the topic or conversation you found yourselves in.

“How about we get Aizetsu here settled first and foremost? I really want to cut some of that heavy hair of his, as it must be very uncomfortable for him.” You suggested instead, eager to work and have something else to focus on.

Having to look at the severely neglected demon hiding away behind Tagaki made you restless to get to work. The less longer the demon was forced to endure the results of his neglect, the better. This demon clearly needed your help, and soon.

“Ah sorry about that, (Name), and here I said I didn’t have a lot of time to stay and I just go on blabbering like that.” He chuckled sincerely and looked down at the demon behind him, taking a step to the side.

Almost instantly, the demon tried to inch back behind him, but Takagi outstretched his arm so the leash, which he held rather short, wouldn’t reach far enough for the demon to do so. The demon’s movements were slow and lazy, but when he hitched on the leash, he tried again, and again. Seemingly getting more restless with each attempt.

“No, Aizetsu.” He corrected firmly, but not harshly. “Today we’re going to do something a little different. Remember what I told you before we left this morning?”

You observed, feeling somewhat tense in having to witness this exchange. As expected however, the demon said nothing in return, but he did cease his attempts to hide behind him. Though you suspected it was more because of his fear for punishment rather than actual obedience.

“Today we’re visiting (Name). She’s a very kind woman who’s going to keep you in her salon for a few hours so she can get you thoroughly cleaned and washed.” The demon cautiously tilted his head at the man once it was mentioned he had to stay here. “It might be a little uncomfortable and scary at first, but I want you to behave and listen to everything she says, ok?”

It might’ve been spoken as a request, but you saw it for what it truly was. An order, a command for the timid demon to follow. An establishment of responsibility and leadership was what most demons needed to be made clear, especially if – in this case – the current caretaker was leaving the demon in someone else’s hands. Aizetsu needed to be made clear that he needed to listen to you and your instructions once Takagi left the salon to deal with other matters.

A simple concept on the surface, but for a demon that had been neglected or abused, having known nothing but dubious relationships with humans – this was like asking him to shift its entire understanding of reality, and to put themselves in a highly vulnerable position. After all, they didn’t know you. How could they possibly know what you were going to do with them?

Most rescues you’d groomed here at the salon had been terrified of you, because they were expecting you to act exactly like people had done in the past. They had no reason to trust you, no matter how much Takagi reassured and explained the process to them.

Expecting no answer from said demon, Takagi turned back to you. “I tested Aizetsu in a couple of social exercises back at the rescue center. So far, he’s not lashed out or snapped at anyone yet. But if you feel like he might be inclined to do so, please don’t hesitate to muzzle him for your safety.”

You hummed a nod, making a mental reminder of the demon having passed some social exercises so far. Which was a good sign, as you remembered past demon clients that desperately needed muzzles to keep yourself safe. You always tried your best to get demons through it without stressing them out too much, but sometimes you were left with no other choice. “Understood. Are there any triggers that I should keep in mind with Aizetsu?”

“He seems easily spooked by sudden loud noises, from what I’ve gathered in the few days we’ve had him around.” He pondered some more. “Same goes for unexpected touches, I like to think it helps if you announce what you’re going to do. That way you won’t take him by surprise.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Judging from that, Aizetsu wasn’t going to like the water hose and the blow dryers once he’d been bathed. Which could complicate matters, but it would far from be the only time that you handled a demon scared for those very same things.

“I think he likes it when you talk to him too. Calm and quietly.” Takagi remarked. “He shrinks away when someone snaps at him.”

So a lot of calm talking, instructions and gentle touches. Got it. It was enough knowledge for you to start working on him, and you would undoubtedly come to discover new traits and things the rescued demon hadn’t expressed at the rescue center.

“Anything else you think I should know before I get to work?” You asked.

“Aside from the fact that he’s male, quiet, scared and timid – no, I don’t think so. Because frankly that’s all we know at the center. Oh, and if you discover anything else about him, or if something’s up, please don’t hesitate to message me. I’ve got my phone on me 24/7, so I’ll be guaranteed to see your message shortly.” His gaze narrowed at you. “If you feel like you can’t get the job done because of your precious cargo, you also tell me, ok?”

It was obvious that he, and everyone else that doubted your capabilities due to your pregnancy only voiced their concerns because they were worried for you and your infant. But you would be lying if it wasn’t starting to get to you, especially since you were still working and dealing with your client just fine without any incidents.

You reined in the annoyance. It was probably your anxieties and hormones speaking, but sometimes it felt like people were infantilizing you.

“I’m pregnant, not enfeebled.” You teased, laughing. “Don’t worry. I think I’ll manage, but if something’s up, I’ll call you.”

He gave you a knowing look, but allowed the matter to rest. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.” He offered you the leash and you took it without hesitation, wrapping the end tightly around your hand. While you didn’t want to show dominance explicitly, it was the way to get nervous and tense demons to understand the dynamic between you. Small gestures like those were required, whether you liked it or not. You were here to help them, not to suit your own needs and convictions.

The gesture didn’t escape Takagi, and a certain tension lifted from his features. He turned to the demon once again. “Aizetsu, I’ll be leaving you with (Name) now. While you’re getting your salon treatment, I have to get your three brothers to the groomers as well.”

At the mention of his siblings, the demon perked up; a soft noise escaping him as the tension seemed to leave him for a split second. For a moment you thought he was going to speak, to ask anything about his siblings, but he remained in the same silence as before, and Takagi smiled down at him. “Now, you behave and listen to (Name), got it? She’s going to take good care of you. I’ll pick you back up as soon as she’s finished.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the praise, feeling somewhat relieved that he was only dropping one of the four demons in your salon. From the small snippets of information Tagaki shared, Aizetsu’s other siblings seemed much more energetic, and there were only so many rescues you could put up with before needing some normal clients again.

Bathing, washing and taking care of Aizetsu, a clearly anxious demon, would be more than enough for you today.

You allowed your gaze to wander down at the cowering demon, who must’ve felt your eyes on him and timidly turned to you, before peeking back at his current caregiver. As if he wasn’t sure who to listen to, and a clear sign that Takagi needed to get his butt out of here already to avoid further confusion for the already nervous demon.

Understanding the hint, Takagi determinedly strode to the door. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours, Aizetsu. So make sure to behave until then.” With one final wave, he exited the salon. Promptly followed with the sound of his departing vehicle.

An anxious whine left Aizetsu’s throat the instant Takagi disappeared from his sight, and he couldn’t stop looking at the door. Confirming exactly what you’d feared for. The man had stayed around for too long in this new and scary environment for the demon, and now the only person he was even a little familiar with had left him here with a complete stranger, you.

“Don’t you worry, he will be back soon enough.” You lowered yourself to his level, making certain you intercepted his line of sight and smiled. “How about we get you settled and prepared, Aizetsu?”

You didn’t wait for a reply, knowing you wouldn’t get one as he was figuring things out. You got back up on your feet and gently tugged on the leash a couple of times to have him follow you to the bathing area.

It took a little bit of prompting, but he eventually gave in and removed his sights from the door and followed you. All the while, you decided to talk to him to keep his thoughts from straying away to other matters and instead focus on you.

“First of all, I want to welcome you to my salon, Aizetsu. I’m (Name), and in my daily life I work as a demon groomer. Meaning that I work on making demons as clean and presentable as possible, and that’s exactly what we’ll be doing today. If you don’t mind me saying, you look like you desperately need a good washing and a nice haircut.”

He definitely needed way more, but the last thing you wanted was to overwhelm the demon with phrases he probably didn’t even know. As neglected as he was, he probably never had any of these things before.

No answer or sound came from the demon except his soft footsteps behind you. It was relieving to hear that he was actually following you. So far he was taking Takagi’s command to heart.

You then stopped, and the demon followed your example almost instantly. “Before we continue, I want to make you feel as comfortable as possible around here. You haven’t shown any signs of wanting to run away, and as such, I want to try and take your leash off.” You raised a brow at the demon, still clueless whether or not he could actually see you through that mountain of tangled and matted hair descending most of his body.

“But in order to do that, I’m gonna need you to listen to everything I say. Do you think you think you can do that? Otherwise we can leave it on, should you feel more at ease like that.”

The latter was definitely a possibility, especially for anxious demons. Sometimes the promise of freedom came with too much responsibility, and spooked them in the process.

At the mention of having his leash taken off, Aizetsu’s head jerked up and he slowly looked around the salon. As if he were deciding whether or not the area and person he found himself with was safe enough to be ok with such a thing. Nobody had ever asked him something like that – or asked him his opinion on anything, for that matter.

He was cowering so lowly, and taking so long that you were about to conclude that he wanted to keep it on. Either option was fine for you, though.

“…. take…. it….”

You were about to approach the bath by the wall when the softest noise caught your attention, and you froze. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn the sound was anything but his voice. Like the faint creak of a chair, undoubtedly from lack of use. But you did know better, and after Aizetsu had been wrapped in such silence with Takagi around, you’d almost started to believe that the demon refused to talk out of fear.

“What did you say, Aizetsu?” You gently prompted, a soft smile decorating your lips as you were starting to feel more hopeful for him. “You’ll have to speak up a bit louder, I didn’t quite get that.” You tried.

The shudder of a breath left him as he struggled with the idea that he was asked to speak his actual wants. Even if it was just a mere leash to you, to him it was anything but.

After another passing heartbeat, he tried again. His voice muffled mostly by the wall of thick hair around him. “I-I… I’d like it off.” He repeated louder this time, nearly stumbling over his words. Although it was still rather soft to you, you did manage to catch what he was trying to say. And that’s what mattered.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. If you decide later that you want it back on, just let me know, alright?” You reassured him. “I’m here to look after and take care of you, so if there’s anything you want me to know, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

You were aware this was a near impossible request for a demon pet like him to fulfill, but you laid it out there nonetheless. The more he believed he could trust you, the better. It would make this entire process so much smoother and easier on him.

“I’ll be removing your leash, then.” You informed him, remembering what Takagi had recommended: informing Aizetsu of everything you were going to do, and you assumed this regarded literally every little detail. “You have a lot of long hair though, so I will have to get up in there to do so. It might feel a little weird, but I assure you I won’t hurt you. Is that ok with you?”

The demon said nothing, and instead remained frozen on his spot on the floor. You decided to take his lack of reluctance and resistance as an answer, and slowly dropped down onto your knees while suppressing a groan from the weight of your belly, and extended your hands to the most furious black mane of chaotic hair you’d ever witnessed.

Gently, your fingers pushed aside the black locks for as much as the tangled state of them allowed you to. When he felt you touch his hair, Aizetsu took a sharp inhale and tensed like a brick.

It prompted you to halt. “Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no…” He whined out, and you almost believed he was on the verge of bursting out into tears. The poor thing was most likely expecting your touch to hurt him. Still, his answer was clear.

“Alright. I won’t hurt you, Aizetsu. I promise. I’m just going to remove the leash from your collar.” You kept reminding him as your fingers gently paved a path through his matted dark locks. Somewhere in the back of your head you wondered whether or not he genuinely believed what you were telling him, or was taking your claims as a lie wrapped up in gentleness. It was probably safe to assume the latter. But he favored the leash off so badly that he was willing to put himself through this suffering.

The demon was so tense he was actually trembling, and you were relieved when your fingers at last brushed against the familiar touch of steel at the end of the leash, and swiftly unhooked it from his collar and rolled it up in your hands.

That’s when you noticed how greasy and slick your skin had become just by lightly touching his hair. Not to mention the foul odor that now clung to your hands. Yyou had to try your best not to cringe for his sake.

Good heavens, you’d never seen a demon before that needed a bath and haircut as badly as Aizetsu did. And after four years of cleaning and taking care of rescues, that was saying a lot.

“There we go. The leash is off.” You said, ignoring the scent of death. You were going to add ‘Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ hadn’t the demon looked like he was moments away from passing out from shock; still as tense as a rock and trembling.

It had been a good first exercise to introduce him to non-harmful touching, but you decided it was better to give him a moment to try and recover from being touched by a literal stranger. So instead you approached the bath. “Now, what I’ll do next is run a bath for you, Aizetsu. The water will make a bit of noise and might be a tad unpleasant at first, but I assure you it will not hurt you in any kind of way.”

His steady but loud shudders of breath were the only indicator that he was listening, for they changed their rhythm every time he tried to register what you were telling him. When you turned on the water you spotted him flinching from the corner of your eye, confirming exactly what Takagi had told you about his fear of loud noises. Still, it was necessary for the process so the demon simply had to learn how to deal with it one way or another.

For now, you left the water running while turning to Aizetsu for the next step, and you were very curious how he was going to react to this. “Before we bathe you, I would like you to take off your clothes.”

The sudden request wasn’t enough to shake his tension, but you were pleased to see that his trembling ceased once his attention got shifted. The demon seemed to glance down at himself – at his long sleeved black shirt and matching loose pants, and then back up at you.

“Hmhm, those.” You affirmed, gesturing at the set of clean clothes the rescue center undoubtedly granted him. “It would be a shame if those got all wet and cold. That, and I cannot properly clean you unless you take them off.”

The demon seemed to struggle with what you were asking of him, and you didn’t blame him. Stripping in front of a stranger, especially when you’ve been neglected and abused by people from the same species must be a terribly daunting prospect, but unfortunately there was nothing else you could do to make this process any less vulnerable for him.

For a moment he hardly moved, but you waited patiently. Clearly he was considering his place here and the moments from his past. As well as the order that Takagi had given him to obey everything you asked of him, even if it went against everything his mind and body were screaming at him for the sake of self protection.

But then, slowly but surely – his long sleeves shifted and the hands he’d been hiding inside finally peeked out at the ends. You blinked, surprised to see the darker skin tone of said demon. With all of the chaotic hair you’d barely gotten a true glimpse at the actual demon yet, so to actually see details of him was a pleasant surprise because you were highly curious of what he would look like once you got through all that hair.

His hands looked like the rest of him – not taken care of in the slightest, and at the end of each finger were long, darkened fingernails that had not been clipped in forever.

Aizetsu had pushed his hands out of his sleeves to grab the hem of his shirt, but before he could nervously pull it over his head, you stopped him. “Just a second, Aizetsu. I’m going to get something real quick.”

He flinched and froze upon hearing your sudden command; instantly convinced that he’d done something wrong and upset you, and observed with tension as you pushed yourself up to walk to the back of the room to grab something, before making your way back over and slowly lowered yourself back on the floor. “You have such long nails, I think it would be good if we trimmed them a little bit before we continue.”

“W… why?” Came the muffled question from the thick mane of hair as he held his hands close to his chest, as if you were going to chop them off any moment now.

“They’re very dirty, and I might be mistaken, but I believe they are ragged and cracked at the edges.” You explained calmly, holding the clipper in front of you so he could observe it. “This is a nail clipper, it’s a simple tool to shorten your nails a little bit.”

Aizetsu cowered a little bit, and his trembling increased as he held his hands closer. “Please… don’t take my nails away…”

You shook your head, reminding yourself that despite his vulnerable display, it was important to stay positive and keep a soft smile on your lips to give him the impression it really wasn’t that serious. “I won’t, I’ll only make them a bit shorter. That way they won’t be as easily damaged, and way easier to clean.”

Aizetsu still didn’t look convinced, and you perked up as an idea struck you. “Here, I’ll show you. Look –” You raised your other hand and splayed it open so that he could clearly see your own trimmed nails. “This is what they’ll look like once I’m done.”

You got your answer regarding your earlier question whether or not the demon could actually see, because he quietly observed your raised hand before he dared to lean closer to get a better look. The demon then leaned back, peeking down at his own hands before dragging his gaze back to yours – and repeated that for a couple of times in a clear internal struggle happening inside his head.

He didn’t trust you, that much was clear. But with situations like these, he was starting to doubt his initial reaction because what you showed him made sense. More so than his instinctive responses currently did.

This was going to be a very slow process, you were beginning to realize. But it didn’t matter. This was why you only took one rescue a day and no other clients. Even if it took you all day, you were going to make sure this demon got a proper bath and haircut. You wouldn’t go home achieving anything less if it were up to you.

“Doesn’t look so bad, does it, Aizetsu?” You said, breaking through his pondering. After a heartbeat, he made the faintest shake of his head, and you smiled at his timidness. Lowering your hand between you with palm faced up, you asked; “Will you allow me to trim your nails? I promise I’ll be gentle with them.”

After all, they were very important to demons. Some of them had straight up claws, while others like Aizetsu didn’t. But there was still that sliver of instinct residing in their blood that made them believe they were very important to them, even if modern day demons didn’t hunt like they used to anymore. Without them, they felt like they had one less way of protecting themselves.

Which… was also why you needed them trimmed before you began bathing him. Takagi had advised to muzzle Aizetsu in case he ended up getting snappy to protect you from his large fangs, but demons had more than one way to harm others. Their claws – or nails in Aizetsu’s case – could still easily cut a human’s skin even with the slightest wipe. So for your own safety you always made certain to trim a demon’s claws or nails.

Another defensive tool was a demon’s horns. Fortunately for you, it appeared Aizetsu didn’t have any of those, which meant one less thing to concern yourself about.

After enough coercion, Aizetsu at last relented and tentatively held out his hand. He said nothing, but you could feel his piercing gaze nearly digging holes in your outstretched hand, ready to retreat at the first sign of you doing something he didn’t approve of, so you had to treat carefully. Lest you wished to repeat this entire cycle all over again.

“That’s good, Aizetsu.” You praised quietly as you slowly inched your hand closer to his. “May I take your hand in mine?”

There was another lack of response, but the demon didn’t retreat his hand, so you carefully reached out and took his larger hand into your own – becoming very aware of Aizetsu’s potential real size. He’d been cowering ever since he and Takagi entered the salon, so his full height and size once he stood upright on two legs was still a mystery to you.

“That’s good…” You repeated your praise in hope that would reassure him.

Gently, your fingers enclosed around his hand as you reached forward to begin the process of trimming his very long and filthy nails. You nearly failed to hide your disgust at the neglect this demon must’ve suffered through as a resounding click echoed through the space of the salon as you clipped his index finger, the top of his nail flicking into some random direction.

Aizetsu jolted lightly at the sudden noise, as expected, and you loosened your hold just enough for him to not feel restricted. His gaze focused on his trimmed nail, and much to his surprise he found that it indeed looked quite similar to your own.

It was enough to have him inch his hand closer on his own, and you went to work on his second digit, then the third, the fourth – until the entire hand was finished. All while keeping a watchful eye on his posture and reactions. Just because he was a timid demon that seemed to trust you for now, did not mean he couldn’t lash out unpredictably.

“And now the other hand.” To your surprise he obeyed without nearly any hesitation; replacing his trimmed hand with the other. A smile crept to your lips as you neatly clipped his other nails. There certainly was hope yet for this timid and anxious demon, even if his hand was literally trembling within your grasp.

“Aaaand all done. You did really well, Aizetsu.” You released his hand and watched how he observed it quietly; rubbing the pad of his thumb along the edges of his trimmed nails in an almost entranced motion. This really must’ve been the first time anyone ever trimmed his nails.

“That looks so much better.” Feeling a surge of satisfaction, you put the nail clipper to the side for now. You doubted the nails on his feet looked anything better, and in a perfect scenario you would trim those right after – but just like with their hands, demons were very protective of their feet as well. Since you were already asking so much from the anxious demon, you decided to wait with that after you bathed him and cut his hair.

Speaking of which… you suddenly found yourself conflicted as you observed the demon. He really was almost entirely covered with his long hair, and the state of it was just downright terrible. To have hair that was as tangled and matted as his must be really painful for the demon’s scalp… so much that you were actually considering already cutting pieces off before you even decided to bathe and wash him.

“Your hair must be so heavy and painful, with all those matted locks tugging against your scalp…”

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken that part out loud until Aizetsu turned his focus back to you. He briefly fidgeted with his fingers. “It does hurt.” His quiet voice broke the silence.

Your heart trembled in sympathy for the poor demon, and you swallowed against the sudden block lodged in your throat. To have him affirm your suspicions only made you feel worse, but most of all angry at the person responsible. “I’m considering cutting off some big chunks of your hair before I decide to bathe you. Would you like that?”

“Yes…” He responded almost instantly, confirming that the matter of his hair was a priority for the demon, and you felt bad for making him endure the nail clipping before even prioritizing the biggest problem in the room. You’d done so to keep yourself safe while working on him, but still.

“I will have to get close to you. Kinda like before when I detached the leash from your collar.” To emphasize the meaning, you tentatively shuffled closer, watching the demon’s posture carefully as he watched you. With his hands balled in the fabric of his pants, his body was as rigid as a rock, but aside from that you still sensed no sign of hostility from the demon.

“Rinsing your head like it is now, the weight of your hair will be immense, and I don’t want to potentially hurt you.” You explained slowly as you reached down your apron and pulled out one of your scissors from one of the small pockets and held the tool in front of him. He stared at it for a passing second before slightly leaning forward, maybe smelling it. “This is what I’ll use to cut your hair.”

The only response was a deep, shuddering sigh.

You had no clue whether your current scissors were sharp enough to cut hair of such bad quality, but you would try. You knelt down next to him and reached over him to grab locks of his dark, thick hair. Cutting off excess and terribly matted and tangled pieces that you could reach easily. All the while, Aizetsu endured the start of the haircut with the stiffness of a plank. The fierce grip he had on his pants causing his knuckles to pale.

He hated this. His previous owner hardly ever approached him and his brothers. Touches equaled pain, that’s simply how it had always been like in that basement, and If it wasn’t him who bore the front of it, it was certainly one of his brothers in the other rooms.

And while Aizetsu initially didn’t sense any hint of hostility from you, he just couldn’t let his guard down. No matter how kind you acted, you were still a total stranger. Every time you mentioned getting close, all he could see before his obscured eyes was a vague shadow looming over him, and he instinctively tensed up; preparing for a sudden blow to the head, to the hands, legs, or any other vulnerable spot.

Hearing the sound of snapping scissors, along with the ghost-like caress of your fingers through his hair made him want to rip himself away and hide somewhere until Takagi returned to pick him up. Only problem being, if he did, Aizetsu would be in big trouble, he just knew it. Everything he did could potentially be punishable. Even answering your questions felt like treading into dangerous territory, and yet refusing to answer wasn’t an option either because he’d be defying you, and that was a certified way to get punished.

Either way, he was going through hell. He was almost starting to long to be back in that dark basement. The lack of attention and the few unexpected touches his previous owner gave him were so much better than being approached and touched this much by you and the other rescue workers all so suddenly.

At least in that dark house he knew his brothers were nearby somewhere. Aizetsu hadn’t even seen them ever since he got taken from the house, and he missed them dearly. Scenarios of what happened to them constantly haunted him. Takagi did mention that he was bringing them to grooming salons as well, but somehow the meaning of that passed him by in his constant panic. He couldn’t do anything but worry for their wellbeing.

With each snip, large locks of thick hair dropped to the floor around him, and Aizetsu decided to start counting how many pieces you cut off. Anything to try to get his heart to stop bursting out of his chest from panic and stress of what his future could possibly bring.

Because so far it was only getting worse and worse since he’d been separated from his brothers...

[xcherryerim]

Strange Fascination

Part One: A Mocha With A side Of Your Sight

pt.two

Stalker!Mike x gn!reader

“Every morning, in front of you at last, I stand again, as if I'm enchanted. I'm still half-awake, the haziness guiding me towards you.” — Iced Coffee by Red velvet

This story will lead to smut (not this part but the second) If you’re not up for that, do not read this!

Warning: obsession/ stalking | mentions of over-usage (with sleeping pills but yk) | Breaking in readers house

Notes: This part is meant to describe Mike’s fascination on reader and how he ends up breaking into reader’s house so, this part mainly focuses on Mike along side Abby. Part two will focus mainly on reader. (also this was revised like 3 times so, yk not that perfect)

Summary: After not seeing you at school to pick up your brother, his mind is flooded with worry. In an excuse to hangout with his sister, Mike drove near your place, observing your every move through the cafe window.

Mike tends to obsess easily. Whether it's with re-living the events of his lost brother, collecting nostalgic artifacts, or reading a stack load of psychology books. It’s an innocent hobby and it’s not harming anyone, but lately, he started to be captivated by a new subject.

Four months have passed since Abby began attending middle school, but Mike can still vividly recall the very first moment he laid eyes on you. That fateful day remains etched in his memory, as though it happened just yesterday.

Despite the mounting stress surrounding his impending court case against his Aunt, Mike attempted to maintain a composed demeanor for Abby's sake. She was embarking on a significant transition, moving from her familiar surroundings to a larger and more complex educational environment.

As he patiently awaited Abby’s emergence from the classroom, his nerves were further tested when a stranger appeared and positioned themselves near him, close enough for the musky Vanilla scent to reach his nose.

Under normal circumstances, Mike would shy away from making eye contact with strangers, unless he had a specific reason to engage with them. However, on this particular day, he found himself inexplicably drawn to look up, and there you are, standing before him. In his eyes, you appeared as a divine being, an angel who had descended from the heavens, sent to watch over him and him alone.

Your presence sent a shiver down his spine, heightening his nervous energy while simultaneously eliciting a sense of comfort and security.

Though Mike remained silent, his eyes meticulously took in every detail of your visage, committing your likeness to memory. His behavior was not intended to be unsettling; rather, it stemmed from an innate need to capture your image in his mind.

Suddenly, you broke the silence with a timid "Hi," which caught him off guard. Taken aback, Mike responded with a soft, "Hello, you."

While seeing you for mere moments each weekday may seem like a fleeting encounter, Mike's keen observation skills allowed him to make the most of these brief instances. He meticulously studied your routine, scrutinizing the subtle variations in the timing of your arrival to collect your brother.

On Mondays and Thursdays, you could be found arriving precisely at 3:20, while Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays offered slightly longer windows, ranging from 3:30 to 3:46.

Through diligent study and careful attention, Mike managed to piece together a comprehensive understanding of your schedule, ensuring that he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to catch a glimpse of you.

In addition to monitoring your schedule, Mike began to decode the nuances of your moods based on your daily attire. Although you generally stuck to the same color scheme, he discerned subtle differences that hinted at your emotional state.

For instance, a particular long-sleeve shirt signaled haste, while an oversized graphic tee indicated fatigue. Even minor alterations to your hairstyle served as clues to your mental landscape. Over time, Mike committed countless details to memory, even going so far as to surreptitiously follow your vehicle to ascertain your home address.

However, despite these extensive efforts at understanding and learning about you, the interactions remained limited to brief greetings - a tantalizing taste of connection amidst the vast sea of unspoken longing.

On this particular Wednesday, chaos reigned as students spilled from the classroom, jostling one another in their rush to leave. Amidst the pandemonium, Abby found herself standing beside Mike, sensing the turmoil in his gaze.

Intrigued, she queried, "Why are we still here?" Her question snapped him back to the present, and he stammered, struggling to formulate a coherent thought.

Remembering the purpose of their wait, he asked, "Um, Abbs, did your classmate... was it Gregory? Did he come to school today?"

Abby couldn't help but furrow her brow, wondering if Mike's preoccupation was related to you. "No," she replied briefly before leading the way, prompting him to follow reluctantly.

Attempting to shift gears, he inquired about the solar system project Mike helped her with.

"So, how did your presentation go? Did you score a hundred?"

Abby sighed, clarifying, "The science teacher never gives hundreds, but I managed to snag a ninety-seven."

“That’s still pretty good, Abbs. Don’t worry.” He smiled.

Mike struggled to suppress his desire to visit your residence, the concern for your well-being clouding his judgment. His anxiety threatened to derail his focus on the road, nearly resulting in a collision and earning him seven irate honks from fellow drivers.

Abby wondered if her mental prayers on the road helped them get home safely. She was now standing in front of the kitchen table, as his brother, still with his anxious look served her spaghetti. As she polished off her meal, she observed Mike's restless hands continuously picking at his uneaten food.

Unsure whether to approach him about his obvious distress, she hesitated, suspecting that he might dismiss her concerns. Enveloped by the deafening silence, she contemplated retreating to her room or remaining to offer support. Ultimately, it was Mike who broke the quiet standoff, tentatively proposing, "Do you want to go for a walk?"

This unexpected invitation perplexed her; sibling bonds between the two had predominantly revolved around shared chores, academic assistance from Mike, and marathon sessions of cheesy films.

However, the unfamiliarity of a walk piqued Abby’s interest. Sensing hidden intentions, she inquired, "Why?"

Mike attempted to deflect his sister's probing gaze, replying casually, "Just feel like getting some fresh air."

With that, he grabbed his keys and confidently declared, "I know a great spot."

Mike navigated his vehicle to a parking spot near the park, consciously avoiding your location to not seem suspicious. As they walked, Mike maintained a brisk pace, pushing Abby to her limits as she struggled to keep up.

After a few exhausting minutes, the excuse he needed to invite Abby to the coffee shop on your street appeared.

"Oh, you're tired?" he feigned innocence, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. "I think I recall seeing a coffee shop nearby."

Upon reaching the coffee shop, the once-unfamiliar street suddenly held an uncanny familiarity for Abby. Though she couldn't comprehend the reasoning behind this sensation, she was relieved to see a genuine grin spread across Mike's face. While appreciative of his newfound composure, the peculiar nature of his smile continued to nag at her subconscious. Little did she know, her apprehension foreshadowed the depth of his new fixation.

Mike's gaze roamed the coffee shop, absorbing the ambiance - the warm lighting, the rich scent of coffee beans, and the soothing fragrance of lavender. His imagination ran wild, conjuring visions of an intimate date with you in this very locale.

He envisioned himself sitting across from you at a cozy café. As you brought the mug to your lips, he reached out gently, wiping away a stray dollop from your mouth. Your eyes met his, filled with warmth and understanding.

In this fantasy, he leaned in, lips meeting softly in a tender kiss. His fingers traced the softness of your cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his touch. The taste of espresso mingled with the sweetness of your lips, a unique blend that only you could create. In this dream reality, there was no fear, no anxiety, just two people finding comfort in each other's presence.

“What would you like to order?” The Barista on the register repeated.

Startled from his reverie, Mike hastily blurted out his order, "A latte and a mocha, both small!"

Aware of his volume, he flushed with embarrassment, but his impassioned state rendered him indifferent to etiquette. Paying for the drinks without delay, he claimed a seat by the window facing your house, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Despite the glaring sunlight and the parade of cars obscuring his view, Mike strained his eyes to catch sight of you through the window. Your shadowy outline offered solace, indicating that you were safe and sound. In contrast, your brother Gregory appeared increasingly agitated, doodling with shaky hands.

Concerned, you checked on him intermittently, hoping to ease his discomfort.

Your house consumed Mike's attention, leaving him oblivious to the arrival of the drinks. Abby stepped in to retrieve their coffees, presenting Mike with a gentle nudge back to reality.

"How's yours?" she inquired, attempting to break his trance. Snapped out of his daydream, Mike took a sip and confirmed, "Yeah, it's good." Almost immediately, his gaze returned to the reflection of your house in the mirror.

Fixated on your home, Mike caught a glimpse of you speaking on the phone, setting off a barrage of questions in his mind. Who were you speaking to? Was there someone else in your life? Dismissing the thought of a secret partner, he rationalized that he would have detected indicators of such-jewelry, perhaps a ring. Unless…

"You seem to like that house," Abby observed, taking a sip of her latte.

“I like the design. You know I wanted to be a—“

"Contractor," Abby concluded, and Mike nodded vigorously. His fascination with architecture was well-known, but the true extent of his infatuation remained shrouded in mystery.

"Hopefully, you'll get to live in a beautiful home someday, Abby," Mike responded earnestly, his stare fixed on the distant house. While not prone to overt displays of emotion, his wishes for her happiness emanated sincerely. He genuinely cherishes his sister.

"I hope you do too," Abby whispered, her tone laced with warmth. Pondering whether this excursion sprang from simple brotherly camaraderie rather than anything sinister, she allowed herself a flicker of optimism.

Though his gaze remained trained on your place, the tenderness in Abby's voice elicited a faint smile from Mike.

"Let's get a better look," she proposed, rising from her seat.

Inside, Mike wrestled with uncertainty, questioning the wisdom of their actions. Nonetheless, the need to observe you closely trumped his reservations, justifying this intrusion into your privacy.

“I like how you think.” He replied, following his sister out of the coffee shop.

Fortuitously, the absence of traffic allowed Mike to traverse the street without incident, his impulsive stride mirroring a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Unaware of the potential danger, he followed you with unwavering determination, guided by an insatiable curiosity.

While Abby visualized herself residing in such a picturesque abode, lost in dreams of interior decor, Mike scrutinized the property, seeking vulnerabilities. Numerous avenues of entry loomed ominously, igniting a protective instinct within him. The last thing Mike wanted was for a total stranger to be near your house.

Fixated on identifying threats, Mike scanned the landscape from left to right. His focus alighted upon a window, likely your room, taunting him with easy access. Steeling himself against temptation, he decided to not to cross that line- at least, for now.

The sudden noise of crunchy leaves being stomped upon immediately made Mike walk away from the property as he forced Abby out of there, yet his eyes analyzed the new stranger, walking cluelessly at your house with a box of Pizza at hand.

Relief washed over Mike as his insecurities dissolved, only to be supplanted by irritation at the presumed flirtatiousness of the pizza delivery boy. Perhaps he was overreacting, yet his protective instincts screamed for confrontation, longing to rain down retribution upon the perceived transgressor.

Yet, Mike resisted allowing his fury to dictate his actions. With a renewed sense of purpose, he hastily departed from the scene. Your safety brought him solace, but your home's vulnerability haunted him.

As the clock struck 10:30 pm, Mike found himself unable to sleep, despite having ingested more than the recommended dose of his sleeping pills. Typically, these medications ensured a swift descent into slumber, but tonight, they failed to deliver their usual sedative effect.

Despite the meticulously arranged bedding, the soft hum of nature sounds, and the impeccably positioned Nebraska poster, Mike's restlessness persisted. Could it be that thoughts of you encroached upon his subconscious? Unsure of how to quell his turbulent emotions, he lay awake, grappling with his feelings.

At 11:16 am, the silence of the night echoed through. In this deserted hour, as others slumbered, Mike contemplated a surreptitious visit. Perhaps, under the cloak of darkness, he could safeguard your sanctuary from unseen threats.

Wrapping himself in a mantle of darkness, Mike donned a black cap, hoodie, and athletic bottoms - attire atypical for him. Mike did this to devise an alibi. if someone sees him making sure you're safe (which he knows in the sight of strangers it might look weird) he can just say he was exercising. Perfect solution.

Mike walked on his tippy toes, making sure to make no noise, as he grabbed his keys and made sure the house was locked tightly. Locks secure, keys in hand, he commenced the engine.

Despite the pill-induced haze clouding his senses, his concentration sharpened as he navigated deserted streets, only semi-trailers punctuating his journey. Finally arriving at your residence, he prepared to watch over you from the shadows.

The closer Mike got to you, the more his heart raced, pumping blood like a freight train against his ribcage. Every step he took brought forth a flurry of emotions - excitement mingled with anxiety, fear intertwined with anticipation. The fine line between obsession and love blurred in his mind, and it fueled him further into the unknown.

He stopped mere feet away from the window of your room. Peering through the glass pane, he could see the faint silhouette of you under the covers, sleeping peacefully. A wave of relief washed over him, replacing the earlier dread with a strange sense of satisfaction.

He watched you breathe rhythmically, your chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Despite the late hour, there was something comforting about seeing you safe and sound.

His fingers traced the cold surface of the glass, feeling its smooth texture against his palm. A mix of longing and protectiveness swelled within him, making his chest tighten. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to you, hold you close, and keep you safe from all harm. Yet, he knew better than to disturb your slumber. This was as close as he dared get.

Mike's heart pounded in his chest as the lights flickered on inside the house. His instincts kicked in, propelling him into the nearest hiding spot - a cluster of dense bushes. He pressed himself against the cool ground, hoping to remain unseen.

What could have caused you to switch on the lights so suddenly? Were you disturbed by something? Or did you have a nightmare?

In the glow of the moonlight, he could see you standing by the window, looking out into the night. Your posture seemed tense and your hoodie confirmed it.

There was an unmistakable air of distress around you, which resonated deeply with Mike's own experiences. Could it be possible that you were going through something similar?

A wave of empathy surged through Mike. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you, to offer you a shoulder to lean on, a warm embrace to banish your fears away. But he knew better than to intrude on your privacy. Instead, he stayed hidden, watching over you from the darkness, praying silently for your well-being.

As you emerged from the room, Mike hesitated briefly. His instincts screamed at him to hide, to disappear into the shadows before being discovered. But something within him rebelled, urging him forward. Before he could think twice, he was lifting the window sash, the squeaky hinge echoing in the silence of the night.

Once inside, he hurriedly shut the window, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He knew this was reckless, yet it felt necessary. As he scanned the slightly messy room, his eyes fell upon the forgotten spot beneath the bed - a haven of security amidst uncertainty. Without giving it a second thought, he squeezed himself underneath, his body brushing against discarded clothes and half-filled notebooks.

In this cramped space, he listened closely for any signs of detection. Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the grit and dust from the floor. He felt exposed yet strangely protected, like a child playing hide and seek.

"Sorry," he whispered under his breath, hoping you would understand his intentions.

Mike was already anxious, the adrenaline of being in your room and the effects of the dosage made him a panicked mess.

The sound of you entering the room sent a ripple of dread through Mike. His heart pounded against his ribcage, beating out an erratic rhythm that threatened to give him away. Sweat dripped from his brow, pooling in the dimly lit corner where he lay concealed. His breath hitched in his throat, each gasp amplified in the quiet space.

When you moved closer to the bed, Mike held his breath, bracing for impact. But instead of anger or fear, a scream echoed through the room. Startled, he scrambled back, knocking into a pile of books that had somehow ended up under the bed. Papers rustled and pages fluttered, creating a symphony of noise that seemed deafening in the silent bedroom.

"I'm fucked," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

To be continued…

Thank you so much for reading. Hope you will support this mini series! xoxo (if you want to be tagged on the next part let me know!)

[forever-rogue]

Okay but imagine when (nurse!steve) reader gives birth and literally all of the nurses are so excited because todays the day!!!!

It's a long and painful labour but once the baby girl's here and checked over and the two of you have spent some time bonding with her - reader rolls her eyes and says "go on, go show her off" and steve whispers that they'll be right back and he cradles baby against his chest, carrying her out to his ward with hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

Literally all of the nurses gush over her and it distrupts the entire hospital, everyone wanting to get a glimps of Baby Harrington. Steve cries the whole time and just can't believe how lucky he is.

AN | Nurse Steve finally getting to meet his baby girl and getting to show her off! What a dream, I am so soft 🥺

Warnings | Mild Language, Nondescript mentions of labor/delivery

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve thought he’d prepared for this moment. Really, he’d done a lot of reading, research, and mental preparation. He’d been in on several emergency births and c-sections, and was sure he had seen it all. 

But it all was so incredibly different when it was his wife in labor, when it was his baby girl being born. 

It was like everything in his mind had flown out the window and he was learning everything for the first time. All he could do now was to hope he was being a good and supportive husband.

“You are never touching me again.”

Okay, maybe he could do a better job. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d been in labor for several hours and seemed to be in a lot of pain and stress. Understandably, of course.

“You’re doing so well, angel,” he was sitting at your side and holding your hand, wishing there was something he could, “you’re almost there - she’s almost here.”

“Steven,” you turned your head to look at him, a pathetic little expression, “I don’t want to do this - I can’t do this. I’m not ready for her.”

“You can do this,” he insisted softly, “I have no doubt about that.”

“I can’t be a mom,” you ran a hand over your tired face, grimacing as another contraction came on, “I’m scared.”

“I know it’s scary,” he cooed as he touched your face, gently stroking your cheek, “and we’ll fuck it up along the way but that’s okay. None of that matter because we’ll always try and there will always be love.”

“Do you think she’ll like us?”

“She’ll love us,” he assured you as you smiled softly, “you’re going to be the best mom.”

“And you’re already the best dad,” you squeezed his hand particularly harshly and he tried to keep his expression neutral, “Stevie, I-”

“Alright,” you found the doctor looking at you with excited eyes, “time to start pushing!”

“Stevie?”

“You’ve got this, angel,” maybe he was right…maybe you could do this, “it’ll all be over soon.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And….that turned out to be a lie. Not by choice, but circumstances. Life happens. 

Once you started pushing, you had a nagging feeling in your gut. And yeah, it was several hours and a lot of pushing and tears and pain later before you finally got to meet your baby girl.

But as soon as you laid your eyes on her, it was all worth it. All the months of morning sickness, back pain, heartburn, shortness of breath, and lack of sleep were worth it. You fell in love all over again as soon as you got to hold the little blob of a grumpy looking potato that was placed in your arms. All things considered, she was pretty damn cute in your little pink hat and blanket. 

“Look at her,” you were exhausted and wanted to do nothing more than to try and get a few hours of sleep. You knew that your sleep schedule wasn’t going to be consistent anymore, not for some time anyway, “we made her. She’s all ours.”

“Our Camila,” his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed and he looked just as exhausted as you. He’d been a wreck since he realized you were in labor and as soon as he’d laid eyes on her he was a goner. He reached over and gently touched her chubby, splotchy little cheek, “she’s perfect.”

“She is,” you leaned into Steve’s touch when you felt him wipe away your tears, “I hope that she knows we’ll always love and try to do right by her.”

“She will, she’s going to be so spoiled with love,”  you couldn’t even imagine all the excitement that was going to overwhelm once she was at home. You knew that everyone was waiting to meet her. Steve, naturally, had called everyone (you swore it could have been everyone he’d ever met) once you got to the hospital. And of course, his coworkers and half the hospital were eagerly waiting for the good news and to see the new addition to the family, “she’s going to have everyone wrapped around her little finger.”

“She’s already got you,” you teased, but it wasn't denying anything.

“So does her mother,” the way you beamed at him made him practically melt, “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, “so, so much.”

You laid back in the uncomfy, hard bed already dreaming of going back to your own bed. You watched as Steve looked at Cami, clearly trying to memorize every detail about her. She was still in your arms but as you leaned back you angled her towards him, “go on.”

“Hmm?” he raised his eyebrows but eagerly took her from your arms, holding her securely against his chest. He’d practiced this and readied him for this moment, but he still grew nervous. He was holding her like she was made of glass, “do you want to get some rest, angel?”

“I do,” you admitted, “but I also know you, my love. Go on and take her. Show her off to everyone.”

“A-are you sure?” there was a spark in his eye and you nodded. If there was anyone you trusted, it was him. Plus, you couldn’t lie, you kind of wanted him to show her off, “I don’t want to take her if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I’m sure,” you promised, “go and gloat about Baby Harrington. I know they’re dying to see her just as much as you’re dying to show her off.”

“I won’t be gone too long,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’ll be extra careful with Blob - Cami!”

“HA!” you grinned through a yawn, “I told you it would stick. Cami the Blob. I love it, it’s perfect.”

“We’re not…fine,” he laughed softly as Cami made a few small sounds as if she was trying to make her opinion known, “oh Cami girl, I’m afraid your nickname will also forever be Blob. Until your sibling comes along and then they can be Blob.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m doing this again,” you snorted in amusement, “and even bolder to assume they would also look like a blob! Maybe they’d be scrunkly or something!”

“I’m not even going to pretend I have any clue what you just said,” he pecked your lips a few times, “get some rest, mama. We’ll be back soon.”

“Love you both,” your eyes were already closing as you watched him leave the room. You loved them both terribly…but you were ready for a little rest before the chaos truly started.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve practically had a spring in his step as he walked out of the room with his daughter - his daughter! - and went to look around for his fellow nurses. As soon as he’d stepped foot out the door, he was stopped by one of the doctors. By now everyone had heard about the arrival of Baby Harrington and everyone was eager for a look at her. 

“She’s beautiful,” the doctor was on her way to another room but took a few moments to stop and admire the baby. Steve felt every bit the proud father, “well done to both of you, but mainly your wife!”

“She did do all the hard work,” he agreed softly with a wink, “but I’ll let her know.”

Before going downstairs to the ER, where he knew his partner was working, he popped his head into the breakroom, finding curious eyes on him, “I’ve got a little visitor!”

They all gathered around him, quietly and leaving some room so they wouldn’t disturb the sleeping baby. How she managed to still be asleep was besides him. They call cooed over her, throwing in their well wishes and congratulations. Everyone loved Steve - he was a likable guy after all - and naturally they loved anyone associated with him. 

This kid was to be a little star at the hospital. Then again, people were still in love with how the two of you had met there; all because of a silly broken ankle. It was the best injury of your life, despite the mess it created. It had given you the best thing in your life and together the two of you had created the next best thing. 

Once he made it out of the breakroom, he made his way downstairs to where he knew his partner would be. If there was anyone he wanted to share this moment with, it was her.

Luckily, he didn’t have to go far. Word had already gotten to his fellow nurse and she caught him just as he came back into the hallway. Her entire face lit up as she took in the small, soft looking bundle in his arms.

“Is that who I think it is?” she asked softly as Steve eagerly nodded. She wanted to squeeze him in a big hug, but didn’t want to crush the baby either. Instead, she gently peeked at the sleeping baby and made a quiet sound of delight, “Steve! She’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he grinned at her, his heart full to bursting, “I have to admit, I’m pretty scared right now. I don’t wanna mess up this whole dad thing.”

“Steve,” she touched his cheek, her tone melting into the sweetness she often reserved for him, “I’ve watched you grow from a brand new wide-eyed nurse into the wonderful husband - and father - you are now. You have such a good heart, and you’re a good kid. You’re going to screw it up sometimes, trust me when I say we all do, but if there’s anyone that’s going to do this thing right, it’s you. And you know that if you need anything, you’ve got plenty of people that are willing to help. You know you can call me day or night, anytime for anything.”

“Thank you,” he was teary eyed for what felt like the hundredth time that day as he managed to give her a side hug, “you’re amazing, Brenda. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“We certainly wouldn’t be here right now,” she teased; she was the one that had finally convinced Steve to ask you out, despite his initial hesitation with the whole patient-caretaker thing. But she was right - if he hadn’t listened to her, none of this would have been possible, “tell you what, try and get some rest while you’re still here and one of the other nurses will look after her. The two of you are in for quite a change.”

“Another good idea,” he snickered, “among your many.”

“I know,” she winked at him before stealing a last look at the baby that had already won over so many hearts, “tell your wonderful wife I say hello and congratulations. When you get settled at home, let me know and I’ll bring over some food. Cooking is going to be the last thing on your mind.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” he grinned. 

He was still scared and worried, but somehow he knew that this would all be okay. He’d always wanted to be a father, and now he was. What a world, a wonderful, weird world.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a few days later when you were finally home and had started to settle into a routine. As much of a routine that a newborn allowed for that was. 

It was a wonderful strangeness that having a baby brought into your home. It was no longer a quiet, pristine place, but a perfectly chaotic house. You liked it; it felt like things were falling into place as they were meant to.

And Steve, wonderful amazing Steve, made everything so much better. He was definitely hands on and helped with Camila just as much as you did. He claimed that you did all the hard work and she was the result of both of you not just one of you, so why would you do everything. He was definitely the opposite of a lot of fathers, but then again, you’d always known he was special and that you were lucky. There was still a lot to learn and navigate but you had no doubt that the two of you would figure it out. 

You came back from the bathroom after taking a much needed shower and padded into the bedroom, ready to catch a bit of sleep for however long you were able to. You found Steve in bed, Cami curled up on his chest as he stroked her back gently. She was asleep, and he was getting there too. 

“Hey,” you whispered as he looked over and gave you a sleepy smile. He still managed to look at you as though you’d hung the moon and all the stairs. You crawled into bed next to him, curling into his side, “you got her to sleep!”

“Didn’t take much this time,” he admitted with a small laugh, “gave her some milk and down she went.” 

“I’m ready for a nap too,” you yawned, “I think we all are. I can put her in the bassinet?”

“Nah,” she shook his head gently, “she’s okay right here. I’ll be careful…you get some sleep and we can trade off later on.”

“Are you sure, love?” you peeked an eye at him, but he just nodded, “you can take a nap first-”

“I’m sure,” he reached over and touched your cheek gently before kissing your forehead, “you need some rest, mama. I’ll probably just read for a bit.”

“Will you read to me?” you asked softly as he beamed at you, your own personal ray of sunshine, “just until I fall asleep. I won’t sleep for too long.”

“You’ll sleep for however long you need,” he insisted sweetly, “but of course, I’ll always read to you.”

“You’re the best,” your eyes were already closed and you knew that it wasn’t going to be long until you were asleep, “I love you so much, Stevie. And you too, Cami girl.”

“I love you too,” he grabbed his book and started to read out loud softly, so he wouldn’t disturb either of his girls. 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before he read you snoring softly, along with Cami’s deep breaths.

Yeah, this wasn’t so bad after all. 

Steve had his girls and all the love in the world.

[sawboans]

the fact that i have seen so many disingenuous takes on harding's banter with a romanced emmrich is wild, and maybe it's because the banter is actually part of a set and people aren't triggering the full conversation? but (more so on other social media) the jump to villainize her is genuinely surprising to me because i thought she made it pretty clear that she was coming from a place of concern - specifically, she was worried about emmrich.

whether it's reflected in the game or not (imo it isn't but that's another can of worms), he and rook are apparently moving fast, and a relationship between an older person and a younger person does in fact come along with some real considerations. not just how other people will see them, and how much this will change about their lives, though those are both also factors. i think in the case of emmrich and rook they're on even footing in a lot of other regards, but the prospect of emmrich dying first is absolutely on the table and, yeah, are we sure the guy with A Well-Known, Debilitating Fear Of Dying has thought that through fully?

their argument near the end of the game tells me that no, he hasn't. like... rook clearly has. they're confused why the issue is getting brought up at all after so long of already being together. but emmrich spends the whole game talking about how real, lasting romance was a dream he never quite reached, and goes on about summer companionships and failed courting attempts, and says he and rook are just exploring things and the game uses words like paramour and companion, significantly not anything more permanent. he hasn't even reached the point of saying the big scary L word (and doesn't until basically right before the final battle). he has been avoiding thinking about the specifics of a long-term, committed relationship with rook and rook can call him out on it during their argument - it's because he's scared. and harding is pointing that out; that he jumped into this relationship because rook was just so exciting and now they're running at, as she says, full gallop without looking out for branches, aka the genuine considerations of what this will entail for them moving forward. even if the banters with harding had never happened emmrich was always going to have a crisis about this - she says he's been mopey and distracted, it's clearly been weighing on his mind, and the night before tearstone island is when it comes to a head because if they pull this off, if the threat of the gods is over, then what will he and rook do? plan for the future? god forbid. no wonder he's such a bitch during the argument, he's trying to get rook to cut things off so he doesn't have to (because deep down he doesn't want to, he's just trying to pull the emergency brake)

anyway tl;dr imo harding was showing real concern about how emmrich is approaching the relationship and was fair to point it out. if you bring the two of them around often enough to hear their banter, they actually seem like very good friends (they dig into each other's pasts and interests more than a lot of the other companions and harding asks him for quite a bit of advice, emmrich asks her in turn for a lot of reflection on her connection to the titans... he even starts to take care of her plants if she dies) and i would fully expect my friends to bring up this sort of thing if i was in his situation because it's coming from a place of care. you can interpret that as misguided if you want, but even if she's romancing taash it doesn't necessarily come across as hypocritical to me - maybe taash and harding have already discussed their circumstances and worked through it, but it's clear that emmrich has not.

[michaelsfavgirl]

needy

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: As the days pass, during a holiday stay at Hayvenhurst, your need for Michael grows more insistent, leading you to beg for his touch while everyone else is home.

Tags: smut, teasing, p in v, creampie, dom!michael, sub!reader, tummy bulge, spit, semi-exhibitionism.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: hi! This is my first time posting a one-shot on here. I hope you like it <3 Constructive criticism and suggestions about future fics are welcome in my inbox. I'd appreciate it if you could reblog and interact to give me more motivation to write :) thank you.

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

“God, you’re so needy,” he whispers while holding you close to his chest. You huff and knit your eyebrows together. “Am not,” you say. He raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief.

“Look at you,” he kneads your soft waist and looks at you with an amused expression. You are needy, there's no denying it. “I've spoiled you too much.” He cups your face with his large, exceptionally skilled hands that have made you feel like you have been to heaven and back. 

You blush from the intimate proximity, how you can feel his minty breath fawning over your face while the chatter from downstairs can still be heard. You frown at his statement, clearly not liking the fact that you're not getting your way like you usually do. 

“Normalized stuffing your cunt with my cock on a daily, and now look at the consequences-” he glides his hand down to your ass but doesn't give it the attention you crave. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, instinctively you part your lips and try to gently graze it with your tongue before he takes it away. “-can’t even go a few days without having your greedy pussy touched.” 

You whimper at his words, desperately pawing at his chest, pleading him to make the achy feeling between your legs go away. “Michael, please…” 

Suddenly loud laughter emerges from the outside, bringing you out of your fuzzy state. “You hear that, baby?” you nod and swallow, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “Do you want everyone to find out how naughty you really are? I mean, what would my family think?” he cocks his head to the side and smirks.

You whine and squeeze your thighs together, trying to soothe your pulsing clit. “I'll be quiet, I promise.” Michael chuckles lowly. “Yeah? Will you, sweet girl?” he caresses your bottom lip with his thumb. You nod enthusiastically. Your neediness pouring out of you. 

After softly tracing your face with his fingers he gently pulls you closer to him and his plump lips. He connects your mouths in a kiss that should be rushed and heated considering the circumstances but it’s not. It’s sweet. Slow. Passionate. Full of adoration. 

Michael feels your body melt into his which makes him smile into the kiss. He can’t help but feel his ego inflate at the fact that he has such an effect on you. His precious, pretty girl can only have her desires satisfied by him. Nobody else knows your body like he does. 

As the kiss continues to be steady you place your hand on the back of his neck to urge him to pick up the pace, not wanting to drag this out and have someone barge in from suspicions. He pulls away in response, leaving your lips slightly swollen and shining with his saliva. 

“You know better than to rush me baby” he tightens his grip on your waist as a warning and teasingly makes his way from your jawline to your neck. He leaves short open mouthed kisses on your heated skin, taking his sweet time as if his entire family isn’t downstairs wondering what’s taking y’all so long. 

It’s not really about being rushed, it’s about quickies. He absolutely hates no, loathes them. Can’t wrap his mind around the concept, why would anyone want to hastily fuck like bunnies without much foreplay just because the people are desperate? Have some self control! It makes him feel as if you’re a toy to him which makes his skin crawl. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he’ll make sure to let you know in every way, especially when it comes to your bedroom. 

When it comes to sex Michael likes to take his time. From foreplay to aftercare he’s the most attentive lover. Likes to thoroughly prep you with his fingers and mouth before stretching your slick pussy with his fat, lengthy cock. And he never dares to cum before you, you always come first, literally and figuratively. Multiple times a night too to make sure you’re completely sated and blissed out in the end. And then he cleans you up and cuddles you to his chest until sleep takes over you. 

So you can imagine how quickies are torturous for him. But this time he understands. It’s been a few days since you two arrived at hayvenhurst, his family home, for the holidays. He hasn’t touched you intimately once during the stay which has been driving you mad, Spoiled from having your cunt played with almost every day. Seeing you trembling in his arms reminds him of when he made love to you for the first time. 

“Shh, Shh, I’ll take care of you sweet girl I promise” he responds to your meek whimpers. 

He pushes you closer to the bed making your knees give out and sit on the edge of it. He kneels in front of you, god he looks so good on his knees, breathing heavily, he looks like he’s about to devour you. 

He parts your legs with his warm hands and licks his lips like a hungry predator. You lean back slightly, balancing your weight on your trembling palms. “You’re lucky you’re cute” he says as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

Michael flips up your skirt, exposing your panties which have a noticeable wet spot around your hole that’s begging to be stuffed full. Clenching around nothing you feel his hands sliding up and down your inner thighs. Soft hands squeezing closer and closer to where you need him most as his mouth litters short pecks on your skin. 

As he gets dangerously close to your heat you remember that the door isn’t locked. Panic rises inside you, you whine and try to close your legs but Michaels much stronger hands keep them pried open. 

“…the door” you whisper worriedly. 

“What about it?” Unbothered, he goes back to kissing your soft thighs. 

Bewildered, you try to shove his head away with your hand. Wrong move. He glares at you, giving you a warning look. 

“It’s- it’s not locked” you manage to blurt out, his teasing caresses and wet kisses making it hard for you to properly articulate your thoughts. 

He huffs and rolls his eyes slightly, he stands up and goes to the door. You breath out thankfully, a bit too soon though. Michael turns the handle and opens the door a little, not too much but enough for somebody walking by to have a peak. He comes back with a nonchalant attitude and stands between your legs again.

This man will be the death of you.

“Is something wrong?” He tries to act casual as if what he just did isn’t insane, but you can see a glimmer of mischief in his gorgeous brown eyes. Now he’s lucky that he’s cute.

“If you want it so bad then you’ll be able to be quiet, right?”

“Or is that too much for you?” he leans back slightly. 

As he's about to take a step back you reach out and grasp onto his forearms. “Michael…” breathless and needy, you beg. You beg him to just quickly take his cock out and fuck you. You’d do anything at this point. The tingling feeling in your tummy drives you mad.

Speechless for a second, Michael recovers fast, as he had never seen you so desperate before. Something about that definitely turned him on but he doesn't have time to ponder about that right now. He needs to take care of his girl.

He groans under his breath, knowing he doesn't have time to eat you out. 

Ugh, what a bummer. 

He grabs your hips and pushes you back onto the bed with your legs still dangling off it. He hikes up your shirt enough so that your bra is showing and pulls your panties to the side. You whimper as the cold air hits your bare skin. Jesus you’re drenched, your folds glossy and puffy from being neglected. 

Michael’s hands itch to touch you, to stretch you on his long fingers before putting his cock in you but he can’t, can’t risk others getting suspicious of you two, I mean the door is ajar anyway, can’t waste anymore time.

Swiftly he unzips his trousers and pulls it, along with his boxers, down. His thick cock springs out, pre-cum leaking out his tip. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, dick fully hard and pulsing. He wraps his hand around the base and pulls back his foreskin lightly, making more of his tasty cum to drip out and land right onto your clit. You shiver at the contact as you feel it dripping down your slit. 

He wraps your legs around his hips and moves closer to you. He tugs on his cock a few times before pressing his hot tip against your sensitive nub. You don’t even have time to react as he starts to rub your clit in little circles. Your head falls back onto the sheets as you finally feel a tiny bit of relief. You buck your hips, wanting more but Michael shushes you, telling you to be grateful for what he’s giving you. 

He slides his cockhead down to your needy hole and tries to slip his fat cock inside you. He pushes slightly a few times but only manages to get half of his tip in before you start whimpering from the stretch. Amused by your cries he urges his fingers against your lips. 

“Spit” he commands. You widen your eyes slightly. You shakily part your lips and spit onto his fingers. “More, again” his voice sounds more hoarse, you can tell he's just as aroused as you no matter how much he tries to deny it. you do as he says and feel your cheeks heating up. 

Satisfied he brings his hand down to his shaft and smears it all around his dick. You squeeze your walls at the delicious sight, his cock now covered and shining in your spit. 

He grabs onto your hip with his left hand and slowly pushes his cock past your slippery folds. You moan quietly, trying not to make too much noise. Desperately clawing at the sheets you gasp as you feel your gummy walls stretch around his fat, lengthy cock. He’s not even fully inside you and you're panting like a dog in heat. 

“See? See how prep is so important now?” He taunts you with his righteous, but extremely attractive, attitude. You nod and bite your lip to suppress your noises. 

He grunts as he watches his cock disappear into your slick pussy, your walls hug him so good he might cum right there, but he stops himself. Faltering his movements he stops briefly to let you catch your breath. Yeah, it’s obviously for you, he doesn't need a minute to collect himself, definitely not. Liar.

After a minute he pulls out slightly and thrusts back in again, not fully though. He starts to pump his cock inside you at a steady pace, making you feel his prominent veins rubbing against your slick walls. 

“No, want all of you” you whine. 

“You can’t take more right now, don't start with me” he says sternly and continues to plunge himself into your tight cunt. 

“I can-” he brings you out of your cock drunk haze by cupping your jaw with his fingers, not aggressively though, you’re still his princess. “don’t wanna hurt you, baby” before you can protest he makes you look down and see the outline of his big cock on your belly bulging slightly. You mewl defeatedly and lay your head back onto the bed obediently. 

“Good girl”

He resumes his rhythmic thrusts and low grunts and even whimpers. God he looks so good like this, on top, his eyebrows knitted from concentration, hands groping your soft inner thighs. Beautiful. 

As he picks up his pace ever so slightly he brings his thumb to toy with your pulsing clit. You bring your palm to your mouth to stop yourself from moaning. You can feel more of his clear pre-cum oozing out his tip, making everything more slippery. As a consequence of his fastened pace the sounds of your squelching pussy and his heavy balls slapping against your ass intensifies. You’re close, so, so close.

“Mike” you whimper. 

“I know, baby, i know” he looks down at your blissed out face and coos at you. 

Michael looks at where you’re connected and groans, there's a white ring of your cum forming around his dark cock, that along with him being able to see his cock bulging in your tummy sends his senses into overdrive. His thumb keeps rubbing your button in tight circles as he feels himself get closer to the edge of his release. Feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure that only he can give you, you arch your back, anticipating your sweet release.

“Fuck- come for me baby, cream on my cock” he says and throws his head back.

You feel a familiar sensation in your lower tummy whilst he feels his balls tightening, ready to fill you up with his sticky seed. Frantically you reach out your hand and intertwine it with his much larger one, wanting to feel as close to his as you can. 

As your pent up desires reach a tipping point you feel your legs tremble as you throw your head back and let the powerful orgasm wash over you, mouth open, whining from how good it feels. As Michael sees your face he feels the same feeling arise within him, squeezing his eyes shut he grunts as he pumps you full of his cum, rope after rope of his creamy seed filling you up to the brim, just how you like it. When he feels his cum trying to escape your little hole he pushes in slightly, to make sure that none of it goes to waste, making you whimper from the unexpected stretch. 

“Still needy?” Breathless, he asks with a smile plastered on his face. You giggle and shake your head as you admire how his curls frame his face so nicely. 

Unfortunately, You don’t get the chance to fully calm down from your high before you hear a familiar voice coming from behind him.

“-Michael?” 

shit.

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 8 (5.3k words)

Summary: Valeria unsettles Y/N with her scheming during prison. Alejandro is the first to know about some disturbing news. Warnings: mentions the term "rape" but it doesn't happen in this fic!! It's just mentioned so a heads up. Also Valeria being kinda scary and toxic but like what's new. Also lesbian smut Note at the end Link to A03 Links to masterlist with all the parts

Valeria watched you sleep, your face softly illuminated by the moonlight that leaked through the casement window. The sounds of your soft breathing, watched as your chest moved up and down, as you burrowed your face to Valeria's side. Circumstances were grim at the moment, you'd been jailed for about a fortnight in less-than-ideal conditions. None of your normal luxuries were available, your favourite items; trinkets and creams, the beautiful things you liked to surround yourself with. And yet, you never complained, not even once. It was amazing how much women could adapt, Valeria thought. How they could mould themselves to survive under any conditions. Valeria thought you'd be complaining throughout your whole jail period, but you didn't. Not when the water turned cold in the showers, not at the filth that clung to these walls no matter how much they were scrubbed. You did not complain about the constant surveillance, the lack of space or how hard the bed was. Valeria knew that it was because you were kind and did not want to make her feel guilty. Valeria wasn't happy about these conditions either but a part of her enjoyed this more than she should be. The two of you were constantly together, it was more time than you spent together even back home. Without the interruptions of work, you clung close to each other like puppies in a litter. Valeria stroked your hair and looked up at the sky. It was full of stars, the facility was so far out in the country that there was no light pollution. Each star shone brightly, the sky was a map of blinking constellations and the occasional shooting star. Valeria closed her eyes and made a wish. When she opened them, she gazed at the moon. It was full to the brim, shining a light on all this darkness. Valeria felt the culmination of all her efforts. As the moon filled up in the sky, she counted down the days.

She thought back to the nights the two of you spent together when you first got together. When you'd run to the beach to see the moonlight glimmer on the water. A towel stretched beneath you, the two of you bathed beneath the moonlight, it shone on your skin and you glistened like a diamond. You looked beautiful, ethereal even. Like a creature that had emerged from the depths of the ocean, sweet and otherworldly, reaching the shore just to lure your love back to the water. If you were ever to enter the glistening water and entice Valeria to follow you, she knew she'd follow you to the deepest parts of the sea. Anything for you. Valeria felt the moon as a steady passage of time, she'd think of how much life changed since the last full moon. And now that she gazed down at you, she knew you were ready for your next part. You were unaware of what would happen, of course. Things would go back to the way they were before, with Valeria in charge of the business and the hard things. The bills, payments, money, property. And you could go back to your world of trinkets and beauty, to whatever wonderland existed within your mind. A wonderland that Valeria never wanted you to lose, a spectral place that she'd guard forever.

When morning came, you went through your current routine. Washing first, breakfast at the dinner area, and you were now taking your daily walk. It was a privilege Valeria had managed to extract from the management's claws. The two of you paced the courtyard, exercising your legs. Finally, you sat on a patch of sunlight, plucking at the dry weeds with your fingers and scattering the whispy remains into the air. "What's wrong, my love?" Valeria asked as she leaned against the wall, watching you. The wind carried the muffled yells of the men from their side of the courtyard, which was separated by a tall stone wall and barbed wire. It disturbed your peace. "Nothing," you mumbled and grabbed more weeds. Valeria took a big breath. She felt you enter one of your special moods, grumpy and touchy but ultimately attention-seeking. There were moments where, to her shock, you'd grow insecure or impatient. When you weren't getting something you wanted fast enough, or when a negative thought burrowed itself so deeply in your mind that you struggled to move on. "Having troubles in your little mind palace, princess?" Valeria cooed and pouted down at you. You looked up at her and frowned back. You returned to your weeds. "I want to go home." You said finally. It was the first time you'd expressed your displeasure. Guilt enveloped Valeria's heart and she tried to swallow it down. "I know, baby. I know." She said softly, looking away. "I'll get my period one of these days and I don't want to spend it here." You said and lay back on the grass. The sun shone on your face and your hair, and you glistened once more.

Valeria nodded and looked to the side where a guard stood, watching. She kept looking as the guard spoke to his radio and started making his way towards you. "If he tells us to go inside I'll start screaming," you said and turned to the side. You quietened down as the man approached. "Garza, you have a call." He said and looked at Valeria. She wanted to make him point out which of the two of you he meant since you'd taken Valeria's last name. But she knew it was petty and no one would make calls to you anyway. You stood up, alarmed. "Not you, you stay here till she comes back." He said and took Valeria with him. She waved back at you as she followed the man.

Valeria's hair had gotten slightly longer in the short time you'd been here. Her hair grew fast and thick, she needed regular trimmings and she maintained them religiously. You watched with enjoyment as her hair bounced to the side, it almost reached her shoulders. You tried imagining Valeria with long hair, she would look beautiful with it. But it wasn't her style, ultimately. As you saw her leave your line of sight, you wondered what she was up to. Probably scheming, she was always doing that. You thought back to your girlhood and what you'd imagine your future husband to be like. It was a husband because anything else was unimaginable. It was always a faceless man, a blank canvas where his face was. You'd tell your friends this was so because you were not shallow and did not care what he looked like. But really, it was because you couldn't think of him as real. No face would fit him, you just knew you were meant to look forward to this man, even though you could never see him standing next to you. You smiled at yourself, thinking of how your ideal husband was a wife. For the first time, you understood what people meant when they said that home was not a place, but a person.

You didn't know what had happened during Valeria's call, but she was in an ecstatic mood when she returned to you. There was a perpetual grin on her face and her eyes glistened with satisfaction for the rest of the day. Later, deep into the night when the prison was 'closed' for the day, she could no longer keep it to herself. Her elated mood was obvious from the rigour of her lovemaking. She fervently kissed your breasts, tugging at them with her hands, cupping them tightly and squeezing almost till they hurt. She left bite marks on your skin and hickeys on the sensitive spots that made you squirm. You tried keeping quiet throughout all these, biting your lower lip to suppress your moans from escaping. Valeria's fingers worked on you sweetly, caressing your wetness. She'd cover your mouth with hers when her touches made it impossible to keep quiet. Your cry of pleasure was muffled and safe in her mouth, where she'd lick and bite, unrelenting with her fervent passion. You came on her hand, her curled finger was still inside you when she whispered, "We're getting out." You blinked slowly, your lips red and pouty, your body still reeling from your orgasm. "Really?" You asked quietly. Valeria kissed you again. "Yes, my love." She said. "Is that what the call was about?" You asked and put your head on her shoulder. You caressed Valeria's chest, wanting to reciprocate. "Yes. But promise me one thing, Y/N."

You looked up at her. Valeria's cheeks were flushed, her mouth slightly agape and her lips glistened like rubies. "Whatever happens, don't ask any questions. You don't have to do anything. Just don't ask anything." You were acutely aware that her fingers were still inside of you as she started very slowly pulling them out and then reinserting them. It made you hum lightly and twitch from the inside. You mumbled your assent. "Say it, Y/N." Valeria mumbled, her fingers moving faster. "Yes," you whispered and felt that warm, tingly ball of pleasure in your lower stomach tighten again. "Yes what, Y/N?" Valeria teased and brought her face close to yours, her lips almost touching yours, her eyes gazing down at your own. Valeria's fingers entered with more force and involuntarily, your legs spread further apart. Valeria licked her lips. "Yes, I will." You said, half-dazed, wondering if that's what she wanted to hear from you. You sensed that there was no right answer right now. Her fingers pumped faster. "Will what, Y/N?" "Whatever you want, Val." You squirmed and tossed your head back in pleasure. "Whatever I want?" Valeria asked very slowly, giving you a small peck on the mouth. You nodded vigorously, unable to use your voice.

"I want your silence, amor. I mean it." She said and ceased moving. You pouted in disappointment and moved your lower body for any scraps of pleasure, when Valeria suddenly placed both her hands on your hips, firmly. She stopped your movements. Something dark and cold flashed in her eyes then. The tenderness in your intimate moment was lost, as though you'd been gazing at the soft ripples of a river and the water suddenly turned black; contaminated. Valeria held tightly onto your hips. "I've done something terrible, Y/N." Her whisper was so low you almost missed it, her words vanishing as they left her lips. She kept looking at your eyes but unseeing, she was looking at something else in her mind. For the first time, you were frightened of her. Not afraid that she'd hurt you, but afraid of what she'd done to protect you. You knew Valeria was capable of many awful things, you knew she was capable of incredible violence and that she'd hurt a lot of people in her lifetime. Valeria's closeness with chaos never disturbed you, it was second nature to her and you were blindly accepting of it. All the terrible things she did never caught up with you. Until now, that is. You wondered that perhaps you'd grown too merciful of her. For the first time, you despaired at Valeria's intimacy with darkness, how it dwelled so naturally within her. How it would follow her wherever she went. "What did you do?" You asked with a frightened voice. Valeria tuned into your eyes again, feeling the undercurrent accusation beneath your words; it stung her.

"I did it for us," Valeria said with an emphasis on the last pronoun, a retort to your question. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you? " Valeria nodded at you as she said this. The moon had moved from where it was when your lovemaking started earlier that night, it now barely illuminated half of Valeria's face. It created the eerie effect of seeing a half-formed person in front of you, someone eclipsed by shadows, a creature emerging from the darkness. She seemed almost like a ghoul crouching in front of you. You shook your head to dispel the frightful image from your mind. "You don't believe me?" Valeria's words sounded like a hiss in your ear, there was pain in her words. You realised how Valeria interpreted that slight shake of your head; your hands rose up to cup her face, it was cold. "Of course, I believe you." You said and pressed your lips to hers quickly, your heart hammered against your chest. You chided yourself for doubting her in your heart. It was true that darkness clung to Valeria like a sheet, but that was not all. There was love, too and where there was love there was fear. She was afraid to lose you - she'd already lost you when you were taken from her. And she would not lose you again. The worst things in this world were not done by bad people but by desperate people. And since this was all for you, how could you not cherish this? You continued pecking at her lips, mumbling sweet words to her. "Thank you for everything, baby. You know how much I love you, right?" Valeria mumbled something back and lightly returned your kisses; it was the beginning of your absolution. "Whatever it is, Val, you don't have to tell me. I won't ask about it, I promise." You said and lightly coaxed her to lie down on the bed. She gave in and slowly lowered herself, but her eyes never left yours. Her face was completely blank, you felt that she was cautious of you still. She would not forget your accusation so quickly, but she would soften in time. You knew how to do it, you'd done it many times before but each time stood on its own, separate from the others. You traversed foreign, unsafe waters each time, you felt.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious of your nakedness, you reached for your shirt but Valeria got to it first. She tossed it away and shook her head at you, her eyes burned into yours and she placed you on top of her so that you were straddling her. You almost smiled to yourself about what was to come. This is (almost) how you always redeemed yourself when you'd done something to trigger insecurity within your incredibly jealous wife. It was like the taming of a wild animal, your sensuality was in many ways your superpower when it came to Valeria. It made you glow from the inside. First, you'd look away from her shyly, as you did now. The ends of your lips tugged downwards into a soft pout. "I'm embarrassed, baby." You complained lightly and raised your hands so that they covered your nipples. Enough to recover your modesty but the space between your fingers teased her with glimpses of what was behind them. Valeria stared at your chest now, entranced. The softness of your skin, the curve of your silhouette, the loveliness of your mouth. The way your lashes fluttered like a butterfly as you looked at her and then away again So lovely, thought Valeria. The loveliest thing she'd ever had. Valeria's hand grabbed one of your hips and then travelled lower, the tips of her fingers touching your bare buttocks.

Absolution was bestowed on you after many caresses and kisses, your transgression was finally forgotten when Valeria finished. The two of you lay on the bed after, your bodies entangled and shiny with sweat. Many minutes passed like this, you watched as the moonlight left the room and you lay there, in the dark. The final pangs of orgasm faded, and silence hung in the air. Per your word, you remained silent on the matter but your curiosity gnawed at you from the inside. What was so terrible that could not be said? It was not something that would affect you, presumably. But it seemed to involve you, though not directly. It was well past your usual bedtime, but your mind would not quit. You feigned sleep but could feel that Valeria was awake next to you. No matter how terrible, the deed was done. It was all for your sake, after all. You thought back to all your years with Valeria, to all the casualties your love had created but that you pretended to not notice. The first casualty was Alejandro, who was cheated on and then abandoned. Then was your family as you just disappeared off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again. Then there were all who'd died during Valeria's operations, all the people trambled on and double crossed to quench Valeria's thirst for money. Money that she swore would keep you safe, but hadn't. Then there were all the people killed recently during your kidnapping and then your liberation. There was a pile of bodies, both dead and alive, created just because you and Valeria wanted to be together. Yours was a selfish love, indeed. As you fell into an uneasy, guilt-ridden sleep, you wondered if that pile was to grow more.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Much has been written of love turning to hatred, of the heart growing cold with the death of love. It is a remarkable process. It is far more terrible than anything I have ever read about it, more terrible than anything I will ever be able to say." -from 'Giovanni's Room' by James Baldwin.

To be a man was not a given condition but a continuous effort, Alejandro believed. An effort that never stopped, it was a cup that needed to be constantly refilled as though there was a hidden leak. It was a condition that needed to be reinforced regularly. It took a lot to be a real man; hardened and unyielding. It was easy to be a man in front of women, you only had to be male. But to be a man in the company of other men meant to be singular. A real man had presence; he was the one barking orders and calling the shots, the one who made others avert their gaze when their eyes met. A real man changed a room when he stepped into it. A real man could outdrink and outlift his comrades. A real man was not fucked; he did the fucking. There was a hardness in his core that would never soften; rugged masculinity prevailed.

Alejandro's mind wandered on all these things and his accomplishments. He'd always dreamed of being the way he was now. A strong and feared leader of the Vaqueros, someone who ranked at the top of the Mexican Army. Someone who ran operations and succeeded. A man who got the job done. Masculinity was the armour he covered himself with when existing in the world, it was how he let others know he wanted to be treated - with respect. Not the respect that every person was owed, but the respect of a superior. And yet he never ceased to covet it, he always felt that he must reinforce his masculinity, to assert that he was a man. Alejandro had worked hard to make this happen. Blood, sweat and tears went into this work. It wasn't easy or natural for him. Sometimes, he wanted to give in to pain and desire so badly, to surrender control and indulge in what he really wanted. The foods he avoided because they would mess with his diet plan, the days of rest he craved but could not have because he worked out a lot to maintain his muscle. The touches he wanted to feel and deliver, but would never dare to. Because he was not soft enough to melt into love. He did not have the gentleness that was needed when handling women. And he was not sissy enough to dwell on the thoughts he had of other people. The intrusion of those images made him recoil in disgust when they materialised in his mind. No, none of these things would do. Because he was a man.

Alejandro looked at his reflection. He was in his dimly lit bathroom, touching his gruff beard, which was always trimmed but never cleaned-shaven. He could not stand the idea of having soft skin on his face, so he kept his appearance neat but not too fresh. His features were in no way soft, either. He had strong, intimidating dark eyes. The deep lines on his face - the marks of years gone by, the signification of his fast-approaching middle age - made him look experienced and yet, still, handsome. He brushed his hair roughly with his comb, no longer being gentle with his movements even though he still felt the remnants of pain from the injuries inflicted by Valeria. The savage slices on his wrists. Mentally, he was over it and he willed his body to do the same. Annoyingly, he'd been put on sick leave against his will immediately after Valeria's arrest. For his own good and recuperation, they said. Alejandro had sustained injuries, sure, but they were so minor and insignificant to him. It wasn't like he hadn't been injured before when answering the call of duty. He'd barely need anything more than some stitches and bandages. But no matter how vexed his protestations were, he could see that he was changed in his comrade's eyes and that he could not convince them that he was well enough to continue. As he walked around the headquarters, he noticed that soldiers could no longer meet his gaze. Their eyes darted to the side shamefully and with a jolt, he had realised it because they were ashamed of him. Over the course of this operation, he had become changed in their eyes; he was smaller, unreliable. Disgraced, he thought bitterly.

Alejandro's hands shook as he jolted the medicine cabinet open and reached for the white bottle containing his migraine medication. He shook the bottle and dropped two white, innocuous pills into his palm. He swallowed them dry, tasting their bitterness where they touched his tongue. He'd planned and executed this entire operation so quickly, he got them what they wanted! He said he would get Valeria and he did. He had achieved their goals, he ticked all the boxes. It was because of him that they were able to accomplish this mission! So how could they be so ungrateful? How dare they look down on him because he didn't go exactly by the book? It's not like he was the first to ignore some rules. Y/N wasn't the first (nor the last) civilian to be detained illegally. He didn't even touch her! He even expected Valeria's attack; she acted exactly how he thought she would, and he had let the 141 and Graves know this from the start. But now here he was, in his house in rural Mexico, under the guise of 'medical leave,' forced to take all the blame for the damage inflicted on the Mexican Army Headquarters. He returned the bottle to the cabinet and exited the bathroom.

He walked to his sparsely furnished living room with heavy steps, the wooden floorboards creaking beneath his feet. He sat down on his sofa and opened his laptop. He looked at the time; two minutes till his scheduled call with Laswell, perhaps his only ally at the moment. Laswell was strict about protocol but she and him shared the same vision and passion when it came to accomplishing their goals by any means necessary. No matter what strings needed to be pulled. He thought of Y/N for a moment, how frightened she was of him. He felt the memory like a hot iron. His breathing quickened and he felt that warm feeling he so often denied himself traverse across his body against his will. He tried to shake himself free of this feeling, these memories that kept pestering him when he least expected. The way she sat there so girlishly. She was a grown woman of course, almost as old as Valeria. And yet that youthful vitality clung to her like a wet flower petal. It was something about her wide-eyed gaze that made her emit this permanent girlhood. It made him hate Y/N even more, how she effortlessly proved her superiority to him. Her ungrazed beauty and distilled vitality set her apart from people like him. Who wouldn't commit adultery for her? And yet there was something warm floating in that sensation of hatred. Laswell started the video call and Y/N vanished from his mind.

"Buenos Dias, Laswell," he said. "Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling?" She said. Alejandro noticed the trailing smoke of a cigarette floating behind her figure. The cigarette itself was concealed, but its smoke danced across the air freely. Alejandro felt the pit in his stomach harden. "Good, good. It's so nice and quiet here, away from everything. But I'm missing all the action." Alejandro noticed the tightness of Laswell's polite smile. She wasn't someone who indulged in ornamental displays of politeness, she was an American after all. And the fact that she was entertaining him so falsely worried him. "I'm glad to hear that," she said. Silence hung in the air, her artificial charm was wearing off. Alejandro swallowed down his anxiety. "So," he said and looked around, pretending something had caught his eye. "What are the other-"

"Valeria and Y/N are being released from custody." Alejandro's eyes snapped back to the screen. If his eyes could burn a hole through the laptop, they would've.

"What?" He said and felt anger lit up his chest from the inside. Laswell was no longer smiling. "There's no easy way to say this." She took a deep breath. "You are already aware of how precarious this operation was, Colonel. The seizure of an uninvolved civialian-" "Don't give me that bullshit, Laswell." He interrupted. "We needed her and it was to get Valeria out of hiding." "Yes, that is true. But you fucked it up." Laswell spat out and deeply inhaled a puff from her cigarette. Her hand shook slightly as she placed the cigarette on its holder. "Were you aware that Valeria was recording?" Laswell asked. Alejandro's anger froze. He thought back to their encounter, but his mind was blank. "Recording what? "She was wired and recording when she found you, during the attack. Did you know that?" Alejandro felt like something heavy was pressing down on him. He thought back to what Soap told Valeria as she was placed in the detention vehicle. 'You're going down for what you did.' That's what Soap said and yet Valeria flashed a devilish grin at him, her eyes glimmering with delight. It doesn't matter what I did, she'd said. It matters what you can prove. Alejandro seethed in his seat. "So, what? She's a criminal. She's running a fucking cartel and aiding Hassan with his missiles. Who cares about a stupid recording?" Laswell looked at him, moving her jaw slowly as she calculated her words. "You're aware that Valeria disclosed the location of these missiles. And the missiles are classified, so there is no use persecuting her for-" "Okay, so she'll serve time for the cartel business-," he interrupted and was cut short. "Valeria is threatening to sue for the kidnapping and rape of her wife, Alejandro."

The world fell silent in his ears, he could only hear the ringing sound from his blood rushing. Laswell continued. "I've seen the recording, Alejandro. It's ugly work." She worked more on her cigar, inhaling deeply all that nicotine. "Think about the optics here. Shadow Company, the 141 and Los Vaqueros teaming up to kidnap an innocent civilian and enable rape during custody. Do you understand how serious this is?" She did not look at him as he spoke. Alejandro could barely stammer out his words. When they came out, they were soft and full of fear. "Laswell. I would never do something like that. She is lying," his teeth clattered, he felt his whole jaw vibrate. "I never touched Y/N. I swear it." Laswell shook her head with a frown. "You certainly alluded to something in the recording, Colonel. You all but admitted to it." "I was bluffing to piss her off, I would never do something like that." He said and heard himself sound like a scolded, pathetic child. "I'm not blaming you for anything, Alejandro. I'm just telling you what we're dealing with. During an already sensitive operation, we're now facing exposure. We cannot allow this to happen. You understand this?" "So they're being released..." "Quid pro quo. We got the missile locations and discretion, they get to walk free."

It was like the world was pulled under from beneath his feet. He thought back to when Valeria entered the container back at the headquarters, how flushed she was from her run up to that point. The creases of worry on her face, the way she frantically looked around the room for Y/N. Alejandro could not resist antagonising her. He'd lied about doing things to Y/N because it only seemed fair at the time. That Valeria would face some sort of punishment for what she'd done to him. That was her supreme crime in Alejandro's eyes. It was never about the missiles. And like always, she came out on top. He gritted his teeth, she was always getting away with things. And not only that, but she always found a way to ruin things for others as well. Alejandro saw the contempt in Laswell's eyes, and he knew that he was now debased in her eyes forever. No matter what he said from now on, he could never redeem himself in her eyes. The shame of it burned in his chest. His fall from grace showed no sign of stopping, he felt the walls around him collapse. And then there was the other thing in the recording, the thing about Rudolpho...

"Laswell. How much of the recording did you see?" He could not look at her. "All of it, I'm afraid." She said. He could burst into flames from the shame he felt. So, she had seen it. Is that why she was looking at him like that? Laswell had a wife, it was true, but did that really make a difference now? Alejandro didn't know what was worse: that Laswell would look down on him for his ambiguous desires, or that she'd feel a silent allegiance to him. Both potentials filled him with despair. "Has anyone else seen it?" He asked. "No. I wanted to tell you about it before destroying it. There is no use in keeping it." Alejandro felt his heart lighten. "Am I being dismissed from service?" He said, looking at his window and the world beyond it. It was a dry season now, and he could hear the cicadas sing. The sound lulled his mind, he could think of nothing.

"No, Alejandro. I also called to tell you this. You've been requested back at the base, your medical leave has been cut short. As far as the others are aware, you're ready to get back to work. No one else knows about this." She continued telling him about the details, the date he was to report back to base, and what he'd missed since he went on leave. What the 141 were up to, that they sent their regards and wished him well. He heard it all like it was spoken to someone else. "Thank you, Laswell. We'll talk soon." "Of course, Colonel." She said and closed the call.

He stood up with the laptop in his hands and tossed it to the nearest wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces; he did not clean it up. When he left his house for good, the pieces remained there, scattered.

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Note: Sorry guys I really wanted this to be the last chapter but this part already came out longer than I expected and I haven't finished the final scene to the point where I'm happy with it. And because I haven't updated in a while, I'll post this part and finish it off properly in the next part. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! And to clarify, Alejandro didn't assault Y/N! But because he lied and alluded to something like that in a previous part, Valeria decided to use it against him.

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