#she knows just enough to get the title I think and you’re allowed to use lures for half of the tricks which is nuts

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

A Super Soldier's Soft Spot

pairing: post tfatws!bucky barnes x fem!reader

genre: flufff

el's thoughts: first time writing for bucky!! it's probably a lil ooc, but i figured i'll post it anyway. hope yall like it!!

masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. Winter Soldier. Ex-Winter Soldier. Avenger. The-One-With-The-Metal-Arm.Uncle Bucky. Babe.

All are names Bucky answers to. Granted, the last one was the latest addition to the list. He met Y/N at a little backyard barbeque at the Willson’s, that Sarah had put together. Sam invited him and he was promptly introduced to Y/N—Sarah’s friend since middle school. Bucky hated to admit that Sam had finally found him a match but he couldn’t deny how quickly he fell for Y/N. 

She was a breath of fresh air in the storm that was his life. Cliche. He knows. 

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

Bucky chuckled, “I’m the one closest to the door, Y/N/N.” He tugged his leather jacket on and grabbed his keys from the key hook by the door. “Plus, you know your family doesn’t start dinner at the time they say they would. We’ll still get there early.”

Y/N hopped on one shoe-clad foot as she slipped the other shoe on, clutching her canvas tote bag in her other hand. “Still.” She stood up straight in front of him with a bright, teasing smile and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Okay, let’s go, Super Soldier.”

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and held the door open for her, followed her out, and locked it behind him. If anyone asked him just five years ago if he saw himself going to family dinners once a month he would have laughed in their face. Yet, here he was, helping his girl into his car to drive them to her monthly family dinner. 

Pulling into the large crowded driveway of Y/N’s family home, she reached across the center console and squeezed Bucky’s hand excitedly. Y/N’s older sister had texted her beforehand, letting her know that the kids would be joining them. Since Y/N’s nieces and nephews are in their early to mid-teen years, the kids seem to always have plans of their own on the weekend. The kids had grown incredibly fond of Bucky, already claiming him as their favorite. Y/N had tried to warn and prepare him for how overwhelming her nieces and nephews could be but Bucky surprised her the first time he met her family. 

Bucky didn’t realize how much he missed being in a family setting, having forgotten how his own mother and sister were. 

As soon as Bucky and Y/N stepped out of the car, the front door swung open hazardly. 

“Uncle Bucky!”

Bucky barely had time to register the title before a whirlwind of limbs tackled him. He allowed himself to stumble back playfully, wrapping his metal arm around Y/N’s youngest niece, Ava, who clung to him like a koala. 

“Hey, kid,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Thought you had plans with your friends?”

Ava grinned. “Canceled. I had to be here. You promised to help me with my soccer drills.”

“Ah, right,” Bucky nodded while a smirk tugged at his lips. “You think you’re ready to take me on, huh?”

She crossed her arms, feigning confidence. “I’m faster than you.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, his tone dripping with playful sarcasm as he followed Y/N up the steps.

Inside, the house was alive with chatter, and the smell of something delicious and savory, simmered on the stove. Y/N’s mom greeted them first, pulling Bucky into a hug before she moved to kiss Y/N’s cheek. It had taken him a while to get used to the casual affection Y/N’s family showed him, but now? Now, it didn’t send him into fight mode. Now, he let himself melt into it.

“Bucky. Sweetie, you look too thin.” Y/N’s mom fussed, cupping his face. “Are you eating enough?”

“I–”

“He eats more than enough, Mom.” Y/N cut him off with a laugh. “Don’t let the super soldier metabolism fool you.”

Before Bucky could defend himself, Y/N’s two oldest nephews appeared, grinning as they exchanged knowing looks.

“You bringing the metal arm for football, or are you scared you’ll embarrass yourself?” Tyler, the eldest, challenged with a smirk.

Bucky raised a brow. “Kid, I fought aliens. You really think I’m scared of a game of backyard football?”

“Prove it then.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head as Bucky let himself be dragged out to the backyard by the boys. “You’d think they’d stop testing him by now.”

Her older sister, Marie, smirked, handing Y/N a drink. “Please. They love him. He’s the first guy you’ve brought home who actually keeps up with them.”

Y/N smiled, watching Bucky as he jogged across the backyard, already intercepting a pass with an ease that left her nephews gaping. He looked so… happy. Like he belonged.

Like family.

Marie nudged her side. “He’s the one, huh?”

Y/N glanced at her sister before looking back at Bucky, who had just scooped up Ava onto his shoulders as she cheered. 

“Yeah,” she murmured, heart swelling at the thought of Bucky being a part of her family permanently. “Yeah, I think he is.”

[angeastrd]

. . . late night calls .ᐟ

natasha romanoff x fem! reader. fluff!

after a hard mission, all she wants to do is talk to her girlfriend

“Did I wake you up?” The hoarse voice of Natasha Romanoff is the first thing you hear in your bleary haze, as you blink, willing yourself to wake up. You stare at the unknown number on your screen – burner phone. She wasn’t supposed to communicate with you during missions.

“. . . Huh?” you mumble. Your eyes glance over to the clock; 2:14 A.M. glares back at you, as you focus back on the voice crackling through your phone. You shake your head, before seeming to remember that she can’t see you on the other side of the line. “No,” you correct, perhaps a little too delayed. “You didn’t wake me. Been up. For a while,” you lie. She snorts. She still didn’t understand why you tried to lie to her– she was a professional spy, for god's sake. She was always going to know. Still you liked to try. 

She doesn’t comment, instead admitting, ���I needed to hear your voice.” She pauses. Was that too vulnerable? Sometimes Natasha worries that you may be in love with the Black Widow the world sees, and not the broken-down, morally gray Natasha Romanoff. She was a fragmented soul, and she dreaded the day that you would gain clarity of that and take your leave. Being with an Avenger already wasn’t easy work – hell, the title had at least a decade of trauma attached to it. It probably was in the contract. Being with the Black Widow? That was more trouble than she was worth.

“I missed you too,” you responded simply, and she was thankful that you were able to read in between the lines of what she was not brave enough to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she starts, and before you can reassure her, she continues, words flowing now that she had begun, “I had to exterminate a target today. He was a HYDRA agent. He had a picture of his kids in his wallet,” she confesses, voice cracking as she tries to recompose herself. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. Having more empathy for this random man than he had for everything I stand in,” she mutters. 

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Natasha. I’ve never thought that,” and you can picture the way her shoulders relax at your words. She had always worried that her flaws were too varied – and her strengths too lacking. “I think you’re incredibly strong, especially to feel so much empathy over someone who was not on your side. I love you,” you tack on, almost like a reminder that she's allowed to feel with you – she’s allowed to admit things and be vulnerable and it's okay. 

She clears her throat, and your heart aches for her. Long distance truly never got easier, but absence did make the heart fonder. “When do you come home?” you offer. Natashas' window of vulnerability had closed by now. But every time, that window got a little longer (for you. The S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed therapist still didn’t even have a window). 

She hums at that, and you can hear ruffling on the other line – she liked to talk to you before bed. It was her version of long distance pillowtalk. “Should be home tomorrow night.” she answers, as a yawn escapes your lips. “You’re tired,” she notes, and there's a hint of apology in her words. 

“‘M not even tired,” you mutter in protest, “I have never yawned in my life. Swear,” you grouse, and she lets out a soft laugh at your words. Your lips curve up at that. You always liked being able to make her laugh; she didn’t laugh unless it was genuinely funny. She laughed with you quite a lot.

“You’re a liar,” she chides. “And you snore. I miss your snoring,” she admits.

“That's gay,” you mumble, head lolling against the pillow. 

“So was the phone sex we had last night?” she counters, and you both delve into giggles. Even though the two of you were apart, you can tell that she muffled her laughs in her pillow – just like you did. 

“Shut up. I need to go to bed,” you mutter, trying to change the topic. You would probably never get used to how easy it was to talk to her. “Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up”

“Needy. Have I ever hung up on you?” she asks, the indulgence in her voice ridiculously evident. “One time your phone died,” you retort, before letting out a big yawn. “Tell me about the rest of your day” Mid-way through her story, she hears a soft snore crackle through the line. “Are you asleep right now?” 

“. . .” 

If you were awake, you’d be able to visualize the fond look on her face. “Goodnight. I love you. Sleep well,” she whispers. 

[kissingmilfs]

⚔ 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⚔

18+ minors and men dni. i do not condone these actions in real life.

content warnings: mentions of abuse, stockholm syndrome, voyeurism, masturbation, boot and thigh grinding, sorta-ish pet play

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

🗡 if ambessa were to keep a pet (human) — i think she would want one she can break. she adores a feisty person. one who will bite her and head butt and maybe even have the audacity to spit on her. she doesn’t mind any of it. matter in fact she finds ways to antagonize you into getting those reactions.

🗡 as her prized possession of war - ambessa was well aware you were gonna be fiery and headstrong. everything you wanted you needed to plea and beg for. you went a whole month without a shower once. every time she asked something of you, you’d respond with “fuck you” or if she got close enough—you’d most likely bite her. eventually ambessa got too irritated with slapping you into submission. instead she created a gag and watched as you helplessly thrashed as the gag was wrapped around your mouth.

🗡 her favorite form of punishment most likely is stepping on you with her boots. or even kicking you depending on how insolent youre being. you’ll say something snarky and ambessa will only glare at you once before you realize she’s pushing you on the floor and her boot in your back.

🗡 it took ambessa three months trying to break you but she figured it out. it was pathetic honestly. you were so touched starved. deprived of human contact and affection. even before she found you on those ruins of a battlefield. it happened unexpectedly too. ambessa had went to wipe your drool off your chin. she didn’t necessarily think about how gentle she was either.

🗡 you never flinch when her hand comes close to your face. there’s always a defiant look in your eyes. ambessa could never tell if you were masochistic, a product of your severely messed up environment or both. but she does know the second you flinched at her soft touch and the dilation of confusion in your pupils—she had you.

🗡 ambessa never stopped with her harsh disciplining. but things changed. she took it upon herself to move you from the hole she had you in. the servants liked you enough, because you never lashed out on them, and she ordered them to give you an intense bath. once you returned to her an actual human—ambessa brought you into her personal chambers. she made you lay your head in her lap, absentmindedly stroking your hair. she spent days upon days doing this with no words spoken between you.

🗡 finally after three weeks ambessa asked for your opinion on documents she was overlooking. she allowed you to sit on her lap as you quickly read them. and when you offered the same opinion as ambessa and one potential detail ambessa overlooked - she knew she had you.

🗡 wherever she goes - you go. you’re attached to her hip but in a different manner than rictus. you do trail behind her nonetheless. but you have to actively watch her body cues for instructions. if she wants you to sit, ambessa only needs to raise an eyebrow. if it’s your turn to talk ambessa pointedly stares.

🗡 most people assume you’re a well trained advisor or secretary. both are true. ambessa hasn’t broken you to the point you’re a dumbified thing. she has no use for people without a purpose. you’re always diligently taking in your surroundings. keeping account of those interacting and reading their body language just as ambessa taught you.

🗡 no one knew, maybe besides rictus, your true title as ambessa’s pet. she reserved her affections for private. but you always knew if ambessa annoyed, displeased, or satisfied with you in public. in private ambessa pinches your cheek or pats your head when you’re good. she loves seeing the warm glow and your closed eyes as she gives the tiniest amount of affection.

🗡 ambessa hasn’t…well it took ages…for ambessa to touch you sexually. it doesn’t mean she didn’t keep her prized possession and pet satisfied. she’ll make you slowly strip in front of her. the first time she asked you to show her where you like being touched. you only pointed but ambessa demanded more. your fingers would tug on your sensitive nipples. you’d trail your fingers over the swells of your thighs. teasing the soft areas of your inner thighs. she did not stop you from rubbing your clit. or fingering yourself. when you came with a measly whimper—ambessa flicked you away with dismissal to clean yourself up.

🗡 if ambessa wants more contact—she’ll have you grind on her boot. it’s a humiliating experience for you. but even more humiliating when you actually do come and made to clean up the mess with your tongue. she even makes you thank her for the opportunity. or if ambessa is feeling particularly cruel—she’ll have you grind on her clothed thigh while you go over reports. every time you stop or stutter—ambessa’s forcefully pinches your nipple and slaps your thigh.

🗡 ambessa cannot deny she enjoys having such a pretty and mostly docile pet. you’re an excellent outlet and she doesn’t have anyone else in her ear saying what she’s doing is wrong. especially not when you kneel expectantly at the end of her bed—waiting for her to drag you into her arms and stroke every inch of your skin until she falls asleep.

tag list: @ivorydevil @langedelalune @doktorblitz @tojisbestslut

[itsgivingmami]

“And Burn With Her I Devout Too”

Rhea Ripley x reader

Sappho Fragments- 105a. 16. 49. 1. 34. 48/49(translation dependant) 147. 58.

Before we get into it I just wanted to thank you for the lovely comments, positive reception and generally good vibes you gave on part one. Likes, comments and reblogs are always more than appreciated but just reading is always enough.

—

It’s not immediate.

The night she watched you sleep—whispering poetry into the dark and holding herself back like a saint—she thought maybe she could survive this a little longer. Maybe if she buried it deep enough, she could carry it without spilling.

As the sweet apple blushes on the end of the bough, the very end of the bough which gatherers missed, nay, missed not, but could not reach.

Virtue has never been her strong suit, always destined to enjoy the deep and edged qualities of life. Her tendencies fall toward the macabre—how wonderfully ironic your light feels to her. She’s spent time wondering if maybe you’re supposed to bridge the gap between her and the pearly gates, proof that she hasn’t fallen so far she can’t still reach for heaven.

But each day makes it worse.

It starts small.

At catering, your hand brushes hers reaching for the same plate. You laugh. She doesn’t.

Not because she’s annoyed, but because your fingers linger. Because she can’t help but think of all the things she would do with them. Because your smile hits her like a bruise she asked for, unlike the countless others that come with the job. Because the second you pull away—

She wants you back.

She could be pinning you in piles of poems she’s never written, only spoken softly in the dark. She’s never understood Sisyphus more than she does now. Some might argue she becomes him every time she wins a title just to lose it again—storylines and expectations shifting like wind. But the boulder never seems to fall as fast as her heart does when your attention drifts elsewhere.

She hears someone compliment you backstage—calls you “adorable” in a way that makes her jaw tighten—and you thank them, oblivious, like it means nothing. But Rhea can’t stop thinking about it. Not because of what they said, but because she wants to be the only one allowed to think that. To say it. To prove it.

It’s no use,

Later that week, you show up to rehearsals in a crop top. She chokes on her water, despite needing to cling to the cold it provides.

“Wrong pipe,” she says quickly, as if you haven’t been knocking the air from her lungs daily.

Your laugh is light, unbothered. She plays it off with a smirk, but when you turn around—

She actually growls under her breath.

It’s driving her insane.

You may blame Aphrodite,

You don’t even know what you do to her.

And yet—every moment you exist beside her is another verse etched into the searing script in her chest. You steal her hoodie on a cold walk through the lot. She gives it freely, like anything you could ask for. She’d give all seven of her figures away just to have yours beneath her at night, beside her in the morning.

But she doesn’t mention it.

She can’t.

As soft as she is she has almost killed me,

You curl up on her couch with your legs tucked beneath you, still in that damn crop top, wearing the necklace she bought you three cities ago—something low-key, something no one else would recognize.

You sip, leaving deep red stains on your glass and in her vision, and she can’t stop imagining bruising your mouth with hers. You speak, and she swears no instrument on Earth compares. You tease her, and every time you laugh or glance at her over the rim of your glass, her resolve splinters just a little more.

She’s beginning to crumble—like a statue of Persephone eroding under your sun—finding herself drowning in the fabric of your presence.

She sits beside you in long stretches of silence, just watching the way your lips glisten, the way your bare knee touches her thigh and doesn’t move.

You keep laughing.

You keep sipping.

The stars around the beautiful moon

Hiding their glittering forms

Whenever she shines full on earth

Silver…

You’re not sure when it shifts.

Maybe it’s the way her hand brushes your back as you pass by her in the suite’s kitchenette—soft, deliberate.

Maybe it’s the quiet hum of the speaker in the corner, looping some low, dreamy track like a heartbeat.

Maybe it’s the way she’s watching you now—like she’s stopped pretending not to. Like looking away would wound her.

You’re on her couch again, knees tucked beneath you, sipping from the glass she poured. Your shorts ride higher than you meant them to, and her eyes flick—just once—but it sends heat crawling up your spine.

“Come here,” Rhea says softly.

You look up. Her voice is velvet—unmistakably velvet—but there’s no room for misinterpretation.

You set your glass down slowly, suddenly aware of the silence. The moment feels electric—taut, pulled between two truths aching to finally touch.

“You came and I was longing for you,”

When you move toward her, she meets you halfway. Her palm slides behind your neck, thumb brushing just below your jaw. She tilts your face up with such gentle command that your knees threaten to buckle.

“Do you have any idea,” she breathes, her lips inches from yours, “how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

You don’t answer.

You can’t.

Not with the way she kisses you.

It’s not rushed.

It’s not desperate.

It’s devout.

“You cooled a heart that burned with desire,”

Rhea kisses you like she’s been writing this moment in her mind every night and only now dares to say it aloud. Her mouth moves over yours with aching reverence. Her hand cradles the back of your head like she’s afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

There’s a pessimistic voice in her head urging her to enjoy it before it ends—but the greed takes over before she can silence it. Her other hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against her.

She guides you onto her lap, and you go willingly, breath caught. The second your hips settle, she exhales against your skin, pressing her forehead to your cheekbone.

You both move like tectonic plates—inevitable, earth-shaking, unstoppable. You wouldn’t even notice the destruction around you if it came.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, voice cracked and raw. “You feel like sin.”

Her grip tightens. One hand low on your back, the other trailing heat along your thigh. Her lips find your jaw, the hinge of it, the column of your neck—like an architect building a cathedral out of reverence.

She doesn’t just kiss you.

She reads you—like scripture, like a favorite passage she’s never dared underline before.

“You’re going to ruin me,” she whispers. “And I’ll thank you for it.”

Your fingers tangle in her hair, pulling just enough to make her groan—a sound that clenches something low and primal inside you.

She notices.

Of course she does.

“Me?” you scoff, breath catching. “I’m going to ruin you?”

Rhea slides a hand under your shorts, up the back of your thigh. Her calloused palm drags across soft skin. Goosebumps rise like prayer.

She pauses at the hem of your underwear, exhaling against your throat.

“Say the word,” she murmurs, “and I’ll worship you.”

You don’t say a word.

You kiss her harder instead.

Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.

Her mouth is everywhere.

Reverent. Relentless.

The way Rhea touches you—it’s not about possession, though it stirs something feral in her soul. It’s about devotion. It’s about memory. She moves like every inch of you holds verses only she’s allowed to read.

You feel drunk on her.

On this.

On the holiness of it.

She mouths at your collarbone, teeth grazing, lips apologizing. Her breath is unsteady. Her hands are not. She maps you like a sacred text, fingers brushing your thighs, rings cool against flushed skin.

“I’ve imagined this,” she confesses, low against your shoulder. “So many fucking times. The way you’d feel. The way you’d sound.”

You try to respond, but each time you open your mouth she steals another sound from it.

She leans back to look at you. Pupils blown. Jaw tight. You touch her cheek softly, willing her to relax.

“You’re more beautiful than I let myself believe.” Her voice breaks just barely. She presses your hand to her cheek, then to her lips—kissing every part of you she can reach.

No part of you is out of her grasp now.

Clothes fall like petals—yours first, then hers. Every inch of bare skin is kissed, praised, held. She mutters soft things you don’t catch, just feel: pet names, affirmations, worship.

She makes you feel small in the safest way. Powerful in her eyes. Eternal beneath her touch.

“Let me take care of you,” she breathes, holding herself above you. “Let me show you what I haven’t had the courage to say.”

You nod.

That’s all she needs.

What follows is slow. Heated. Intentional. She asks with her eyes, listens with her hands. When you fall apart beneath her—soft, trembling, divine—she kisses your temple and whispers your name like a prayer.

Like she’s home.

Like the scales have finally balanced.

Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.

Time doesn’t exist afterward. Not really.

You’re curled into her chest, cheek to the warmth above her heart. Her fingers trace secret patterns on your spine—circles, hearts, soft lines.

The city hums outside. In here, it’s golden.

You shift. She kisses your forehead. Then your cheek.

“Y’alright?” she asks, voice rough with affection.

You nod. “Heavenly.”

She smiles—crooked, sleepy, dangerously close to love.

She pulls the blanket over your bare shoulders, arms tightening around you. Her nose tucks into your hair. She breathes you in.

And then—

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

A breath. Barely spoken.

You pull back just enough to see her eyes. They’re open. Honest. Vulnerable.

“I already have,” you whisper.

She kisses you again. Slower.

Like the beginning of forever.

You set me on fire, she thinks again.

But this time… she’s not afraid to burn.

Some say an army of horsemen, some say foot soldiers, still others say a fleet of ships is the loveliest thing on the dark earth, but I say it is the one you love.

⸻

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it. 

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes. 

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul. 

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord. 

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation. 

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible. 

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh. 

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow. 

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle. 

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?” The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm. 

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking. 

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window. 

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched. 

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image. 

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you. 

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view. 

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it? 

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep. 

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest. 

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state. 

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor. 

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away. 

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed. 

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him. 

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin. 

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement. 

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek. 

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction. 

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well. 

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

Part 5 Here!

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

[c0sm1c-c01nc1dence]

Red

✧ Pairing: Hunter x human!reader ✧

✧ Content/warnings: Soulmate AU, takes place during season 3, use of the word ‘damn’ once, the title is bland and I’m sorry, Hunter and the reader are both dorks, first post on here!! ✧

The “rules” for soulmates, as it were, were pretty straightforward. You see everything in the color of your soulmates eyes. Once you make eye contact with them you can see in full, proper colors. Seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Well, not for you, it wasn’t.

You, for the past sixteen or so years of your life, had been seeing nothing but red. Different shades, thank god, but red nonetheless. And to be frank, you were getting pretty damn fed up with it. The thing is that no one naturally has red eyes. And you would know; you’ve googled it maybe a thousand times already.

So you were fairly certain you didn’t have a soulmate, and this was all some cruel joke from the universe. But life marches on, so there’s no time to dwell on that, is there?

───── ───── ───── ─────

Another day at Gravesfield’s high school, bland as ever. At least until you caught a glance at your friend Luz. Rather, former friend. She’d been acting weird ever since she came back from that ‘reality check’ camp. And not standard Luz weird, no— she’d been avoiding you since then. Acting like she didn’t know you at all whenever you approached her, not to mention her sudden lack of interest in anything she used to like. The Good Witch Azura books, most notably.

So, needless to say, you were a bit surprised at her new look. Curly hair, a new scar over her eyebrow, and a general air of seasonal depression about her. Even though your recent interactions hadn’t gone so smoothly, you couldn’t help but ask. You were still allowed to care about her.

“Luz?” You called out from down the school hallway. She turned her head in your direction, and you could practically see the stars in her eyes when she saw you. She ran towards you, almost tackling you in a hug. Stumbling backwards, you hesitantly returned the gesture. “Good to see you too?” You awkwardly pat her back, unsure of what to do at the moment.

“Y/N, I am so glad to see you! Oh, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” She backed away and wiped a small tear from her eye.

“We saw each other yesterday, though?” You chuckled, still perplexed by this whole situation. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re kinda acting like you just came back from war right now.” Her face fell slightly, but her smile quickly returned.

“Meet me at my house once school’s done, ok? I have… a lot to tell you.” You nodded, and watched her just walk away casually after that interaction.

“Cool. Good talk, I guess?”

───── ───── ───── ─────

“So, if I’m following,” You began, now in the Noceda family’s living room. “You didn’t go to summer camp, but instead spent several months in a fantasy world, and the Luz I’ve been interacting with is actually a shape-shifting basilisk.” You pointed to Vee, who nodded shyly. “And in this fantasy world you became a witch, made a bunch of new friends, and got a girlfriend.” You left out the details involving Belos and the Collector, deciding that you didn’t need to recap whatever nonsense was going on there.

“Yeah, actually. You’re handling this surprisingly well.” Luz noted.

“I think I’m still in shock, to be honest.” You laugh a bit in disbelief. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what she’d been through during those months, and you kind of didn’t want to. “So, more importantly, do I get to meet these new people?” You questioned, and her face brightened.

“Of course! They’re upstairs, so let me go get them and I’ll be right back.” You waited downstairs with Vee, exchanging basic small talk. She apologized for the whole ‘impersonating one of your few friends’ thing, which was nice of her. Eventually Luz came back, new friends and girlfriend following behind her.

“Alright! Everyone this is Y/N.” You gave a polite wave, quickly scanning over the group. “Y/N, this is Willow, Gus, Amity, and Hunter.” You got a proper look at all of them as she said their names, your eyes landing on the blond last. Wait a minute, blond?!

As it would turn out, when you made eye contact with Hunter you could suddenly see a lot more colors. He clearly noticed this as well, as a light blush was present on his cheeks and ears. You could feel some heat rise to your own face as well.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” Luz asked, noticing your stunned silence.

“I, uh…” you stumbled over your words like an idiot, still staring at him. Saving what little dignity you had left, your phone dinged from your pocket. Checking the notification, you gave an awkward smile and held it up to the group. “Oh! You know what, that’s my dad. He probably wants me home for dinner!” You put your phone back in your pocket, and began approaching the door. “I’ll see you guys later, okay, bye!”

You got the words out as quickly as you could, and bolted as soon as the door was open. You ran back to your house, face still flushed from embarrassment and being generally flustered, leaving a room full of witches (and one human) awfully confused.

“Hunter, what was that about?” Willow asked, as he still stared at the spot where you once were.

“Um- good question.”

───── ───── ───── ─────

Later that day, Hunter knocked on the door to Luz’s bedroom.

“Come in.” She said idly, distracted by whatever she had been playing on her Switch. He entered her room, hands anxiously fidgeting at his sides. There wasn’t a particularly easy way to say this, so he just bit the bullet.

“So, you know the whole thing with your soulmate, and how you’ll only see in their eye color until you make eye contact?”

“Yeah?” She encouraged, curiosity evident in her tone.

“Well, it’s possible that maybe, perhaps, Y/Nismysoulmate.”

“What?!” She immediately paused her game, and whipped around to face him. “Really?! Tell me everything!” She sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her, encouraging him to sit down. He did so, face red from having to explain the whole ordeal.

“There’s nothing to tell! I used to only see e/c, I looked at them, now I can see every color, and they— I always thought your hair was black, by the way— and they just ran away!” As Luz sat and processed this information, Hunter continued thinking out loud. “Did they not like me or something? Is it because I’m from the Boiling Isles?” He questioned, grabbing the pointed tips of his ears. Cutting his rambling short, Luz spoke up.

“No, I don’t think so. They were always interested in fantasy like I was. Maybe they were just a bit overwhelmed?” She suggested. He sighed.

“I guess that could have been it.” He said, though the anxiety was still clear on his face.

“Hey, how about I try to get them to come over this weekend? You guys can talk about it then.” He nodded, and watched her grab her phone to message you. Titan, he hoped she was right about this.

───── ───── ───── ─────

A few days had gone by since the whole incident with Hunter. You had been avoiding him since then, though you honestly weren’t sure why. If you had to, though, you’d say it was probably out of shock. I mean, you were convinced you didn’t have a soulmate for years. And now this incredibly good-looking boy comes in from another realm, and he’s supposedly perfect for you? It’s absurd!

Though it was also worry. How would a relationship between the two of you even work out? He’d have to go home eventually, and you probably couldn’t come with him. Maybe he wouldn’t even like you after the way you left the other day, and he’d reject you before you even had a chance. That’d put a quick and easy end to all this.

You’d been really sick of the color red these past couple days. You usually were, but now it was for an entirely different reason.

Though you couldn’t avoid your problems forever, despite your best efforts. Luz had invited you over for a board game night to celebrate the two of you reuniting. And, well… who were you to say no?

───── ───── ───── ─────

The day finally came, and it had been going relatively well so far. No one else seemed to know what had happened or why you left that first time you came over. Though you and Hunter had been carefully dancing around each other the whole time. It seemed neither of you were equipped to talk about your feelings at the moment. But were you really ever?

Eventually you saw him slip out the front door. With a sigh, you decided to finally face the problem. No use in stalling any more than you already have. After telling Luz that you were going outside for a moment, you stepped out and saw Hunter sitting on the steps leading to the front door. He turned around at the noise, and immediately turned back the other way when he saw it was you. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him. After a moment, he finally broke the silence.

“You look really nice.” You glanced at him, and saw the pink dusting his face. You smiled at the way his blush would spill out onto his ears.

“Thanks, but I’m not really wearing anything special.”

“I know,” He continued, finally meeting your eyes. “I just mean, like- you look nice. You’re really cute.”

“Oh.” You said, quite simply, now blushing a bit as well. You looked at the ground beneath you, pondering how exactly to go about this. “So, this whole ‘soulmate’ thing, huh?”

“Yeah.” Was all he managed. His hands toyed with his pants, still a bit nervous about this whole ordeal. Unable to find the words he wanted, Hunter just looked out at the surrounding neighborhood for a bit. Eventually, though, he said the one thing that was on his mind at the moment. “So… what do we do now?”

“Well, if I may suggest something scandalous?” His blush deepened at your words, but quickly faded as he watched you intertwine your hand with his own.

“Wow, and we’re not even married yet.” He joked. You put your free hand up defensively.

“I know, I know! What can I say, I like to live on the edge.” He laughed, and you silently basked in the sound. You set your eyes on the sky above you, a handful of stars already visible in the late evening’s light. Maybe red isn’t half bad after all.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 6

Summary: Lloyd and you have to establish clear boundaries

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, D/s dynamics, mentions of abuse, misogyny, detailed ways Lloyd wants to murder The Verb, Lyla Bee 🥺, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Lloyd blows a soft breath of air over your face, and you remain asleep. Holding onto Lyla, while he clings to you both. It didn’t take long after the too serious conversation for you to nearly pass out from exhaustion, and he just holds you. His eyes move between you and Lyla, and he wonders how he ever got here. Gulping because you’ve ruined him.

He’s no longer the man that he used to be; careless, cocky, arrogant, snide, brutal, and so many other things. He’s Lloyd. He’s daddy. He’s heard you working with Lyla trying to get her to say that one word. When in reality he wishes that you would start teaching her another word. Mama.

It’s a title that you do deserve. More than he even deserves the name daddy. You spend nonstop time with her. Enjoy her. Take care of her like she is your own. And you are happy doing it. The way the two of you are curled into one another, he doesn’t have to question it. This is a mother’s love. A mother’s touch. She’s yours. And in that process of becoming a mother, you’re healing yourself of the deeply embedded wounds of your raising.

He doesn’t doubt you’ll continue to give Lyla the love and care that she deserves, but now it’s his job to make sure you have the love and care that you deserve. If you are to be giving yourself freely to him and Lyla, he has to reciprocate. He has to make changes. Tonight was too close. You could have been hurt more than you were. And you were hurt enough, and because of your upbringing, you just accept that men should be allowed to walk all over you, and use you to their every whim.

You’re to be seen not heard, and some big bad man will give you enough money for you to keep your mouth shut. Acting like money was worth it for the hell that you’re enduring. He doesn’t want you to think that what Chase did to you was okay, or that you deserved it because he was your boyfriend. That just makes it all the more worse. He was supposed to protect you. Lloyd will give you all the time that you need to process that, and he will be waiting. He’s never been more sure about something in his life. He wants you, and your worth the patience he has to have.

“Lloyd,” Ari says at the door of Lyla’s room. Lloyd rolls his eyes up to meet Ari’s, and he watches his partner sigh. It didn’t take a genius to know that Lloyd’s obsession has slowly turned into love. “He’s on his way to the warehouse,” Lloyd nods. He’ll deal with Chase slowly later.

“You guys need sleep,” Lloyd gives him a head nod, keeping his eyes on you. You and Lyla are keeping him grounded when his body is raging with the need to seek revenge. “Lloyd.”

“You’re going to wake her up. You…”

“Shh, her room is clean, and new sheets, but I think she and Lyla would sleep better in your bedroom,” he finally meets Ari’s eyes. “Yes. Not that you need my permission, but take them in your room. We need to talk,” Ari retreats quickly. He never is one to linger. He’s right. Lloyd shouldn’t hold the two of you all night, but he would.

He stands slowly, and only Lyla stirs. Her chubby cheeks smoosh more into your body, making her more adorable from her comfort being close to you. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get the baby out of the tangle of your arms without waking you, but he’ll stay there and wait for you to drift off again.

He treats your body like you’re the most delicate porcelain as he carries the two of you into his bedroom. Your body is so spent you only hum as he lays you down. Trying to untangle your arms around Lyla, and he lays her down right beside you. In the place that would be in between him and you. If he planned on sleeping tonight.

His heart feels as empty as his arms when he walks down the hall and into the living room. Staring at Ari who is distracted by something on the table, “What do you want me to do?”

“We’re not staying here,” Ari gives a nod. “I’m going to take some time off,” Ari nods again. “And I want that little prick kept alive. I need him mended, so I can torture that stye painfully slow. I want to rip his entrails out with my bare hands, and I want him to watch me finger knit with it.”

“You’re very graphic. But I don’t think you know how to knit of any kind,” Lloyd would find out. He wants the putrid stench to fade from life, knowing Lloyd Hansen took that last breath from him.

“I’ll figure it out on my time off. What more is there to discuss?”

Ari’s fingers drum on the table, contemplating how he’s going to talk to Lloyd about this. He’s a sensitive soul. Becoming more sensitive when it comes to ‘his girls’. “You’re falling,” Lloyd doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to explain himself to Ari. The only one he will discuss his feelings with is asleep.

“I’ve seen it for a while. But tonight — Lloyd, you’re in fucking deep. Chase isn’t your enemy, and you battered his face,” not his enemy? Chase defiled you. That Verb deserved more pain than he felt tonight.

“What was I supposed to do? He was,” Lloyd’s face turns from anger to deep seeded agony. The veins in his arms ripple thinking about your pitiful cries. And that man antagonizing you. Demanding you, and you wailed. Your cries will haunt him, but the pain he made you suffer is unforgivable. “You didn’t hear her.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know.”

“Then fucking say it.”

“You don’t like to get bloody. You wanted to feel his pain,” Lloyd starts to shake his head, but Ari raises a gun. “You could have shot him. Admit to me that you love the girl.”

“I don’t have to admit shit,” Ari smirks. Starting to lean back on the couch. “And even if I did, what does it fucking matter?”

“Why do you want to kill her father?” That is a bit more complicated. He didn’t see Roman physically harm you, but he knew he hurt you just by your actions alone.

“He tried killing her spirit. It seems fair. Is there a problem here?” Ari smiles, shaking his head no. “I feel you have something to say, and if you do, say it.”

“I have. You denied it. Lloyd, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re making it a dangerous world for these two girls. They will need security detail. Or you’re going to have to scale back. I need you to know, I’ve got your back. That’s all. I’m not here to tease you, I just want you to admit to yourself how much that woman is sinking into your soul,” Lloyd breathes in deeply. Giving a nod to his friend as he turns to go down the hallway and back to his girls.

“And Lloyd. Take a bath. She’ll thank you for it. I had someone scrub the security footage. Nobody knows that the foul stench of an abscess tooth was here. That girl has been through a lot because of Roman. Maybe try talking to her about those experiences and how you can be different.”

“Are you giving me advice?”

“Yep,” Ari pops the p as he goes to stand up. “She wants to take care of you, too, buddy. She’s a good one. Don’t fuck it up.”

Lloyd watches as his most trusted friend leaves the apartment, and he collects himself, running his palm down the front of his face. He has no idea what he’s doing. He just knows that he wants to do it, and be with you. That’s all that mattered to him. Not the difficulty that could come with being with you. He’d make it work. He was already waiting on the final piece of the puzzle to make sure Lyla would be nowhere, but with him. And you.

You jump up in bed. Wiping off your arms, and face. Feeling him all over you. The creep’s smell was all over your skin, and you had to get him off. And then the panic. You weren’t in your room. You’re alone. “Lloyd! Lloyd!”

Smoke seeps beneath a door, and you know you’re dreaming. Looking down to your side, a sleepy Lyla whines, wiping at her eyes. “What are you doing? Lloyd!” You scream again, picking her up, you hold her close to you. Your skin crawls, and your chest tightens. You couldn’t breathe.

“L-L-Lloyd,” it sounds strangled as tears fall down your face. Feeling like the walls are caving in. You want to rock in place, but if that was smoke, then there’s fire. And you have to get out. “Lloyd!”

The door opens up, and Lloyd in just a towel has his eyes searching around the room. It wasn’t smoke. “Sweetheart,” he rushes over to your side, and pulls you and Lyla into his wet chest. “Are you okay?”

“Where,” you begin, and gulp. You try to calm yourself, and focus on his breathing. Lyla giggling a bit helps. Not to mention the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, “Where am I?”

“My bedroom. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. What…tonight wasn’t a nightmare?” Lloyd whispers no, and rubs a hand down your cheek. His grip never tightens, and your cheek is damp from the beads of water on his titties, and your tears. “I need to shower,” Lloyd reaches for Lyla, and she quickly looks up at you. Leaning into your body like a hug, not wanting to be away from you. “Can daddy hold you? I’ll…Lloyd can you sit in there with me?”

It’s nothing sexual, just the need to not be alone. “Yeah. Lyla, come on, baby. Let’s let Dolly take a quick shower. And we’re going to keep her safe and cozy. You want to wear one of my shirts?” You give him a nod and a smile. Words are a bit difficult now. Scooting to the edge of the bed, you give Lyla a kiss on her head before walking into the bathroom with the door open and you remove your clothes.

It doesn’t occur to you to close the door because that will create a barrier between you, and you don’t want that; fear it even. You don’t turn to see if Lloyd is watching, again, it’s not sexual. It just feels right.

Lloyd softly sings to Lyla while he sits on the edge of the sink, and you shower. His bathroom is so much nicer than yours. Shower heads in every direction and you let the water and soap wash the night down the drain. Breathing in the steam, and using his lullabies as a way to set you at ease.

“Did you kill him?”

Lloyd waits too long to respond, so you assume he did, but just doesn’t want to tell you. You aren’t new to death, “Do you want me to answer truthfully?”

“I’d prefer that,” closing your eyes, you stand in the warmth. Turning the water up as high as you can stand, you let the heat sanitize you from Chase’s touch, and your skin prickles and burns with the flowing fire.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so flat. “Why are you asking?”

“Do you plan on killing him?”

“Yes. Are you wanting me to spare him?” You peek around the edge of the shower. Your eyes lock in on his, and shake your head no. “I would if you wanted me to.”

Him saying that means more than you thought it would. You turn the water off, stepping right into his line of vision, and he fails to keep his eyes on yours. Instead his sight is roaming all over your dripping body. “I want you to do what’s necessary. One time when I was a child I begged my father to spare a man. He obliged. A week later we were thanked with a threat and the head of my mother’s cat. I won’t ask that of anyone ever again.”

He licks his lips as you grab a towel and begin to dry yourself off. Lyla already asleep again, but his hungry eyes can’t stop fucking you. It’s sick with the conversation at hand, but you love it. Love that he can boldly ogle you with no shame or care. And still not touch you. “The Verb isn’t a threat to me past a good beating. He’s not an enemy to my organization. But he is an enemy of mine, and he will pay for his sins against you.”

“I trust you,” you answer, leaving too many buttons undone as you walk in front of him. “You do what you need to. What you feel is the most satisfying and best.”

“Don’t tempt me,” his eyes are hard as he stares at your hardened nipples peaking up through his shirt. The ribbons of water wettening the material, and leaving little to the imagination.

“Don’t tempt you with my body or my approval of carrying out Chase’s punishment?” He smirks as his eyes linger at your chest. His desire to rip the shirt open, and attach his mouth to your tit blinding him. You purposefully didn’t fully dry yourself off. Letting the material mold to your curves. “Lloyd?”

“Either,” he gives a final look down your chest before he meets your eyes, “You’ve been tempting me the moment you walked into my life. And if it wasn’t for what that fucker did tonight, I would really be struggling to contain myself. If you want attention, ask. You don’t have to be a tease.”

You take a slow calculated breath. Your own eyes drifting down his toned impeccable body. Each cord of muscle is tightened as he tries to contain his need to pounce on you and claim you. The way he cradles Lyla with a delicate touch, makes him so much more sexy, “Will you — hold me tonight?”

He smirks. Extending the baby towards you. “I’m going to get her bassinet. That way I can hold you all night long,” you whimper at the thought. Nothing could make you feel more secure than his arms.

“Can you put her on my side of the bed?”

“Of course,” he bows as he walks out of the bathroom. Traveling the short distance to her room, you gaze down at her perfectly smooth skin. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. It seems silly, but the times you’ve imagined her being yours, and calling you mama are far too many. You love her. It didn't matter how much you wanted her to be yours, she couldn’t be. She had a mother elsewhere.

“Alright. I’m going to roll this here. You go ahead and put the Lyla Bee there, and we can snuggle,” with a lingering kiss to her head, you lay her into the bassinet. You get into the bed first, and place a hand on hers. Needing to feel her steady breathing, and you look over your shoulder as Lloyd lifts up the plush blankets. His boxers sit low on his waist. So low you see the sprinkling of hair right above his cock, and you wish he would just be nude.

He slides into the bed, and you release a sigh of relief as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you tight up against his front. His mustache tickles the back on your neck, and you’ve never felt safer. Here in his arms makes sense and feels so right. Your eyes slowly close, and you feel a single kiss on your skin. But choose not to say anything, and he gives you another before inhaling your scent. And then, lightness.

A man with so much power that can strike instant fear should not be as soft as he is with you and Lyla, and yet, here you are. Wrapped in a secure safety cocoon of his arms, while you hold onto his baby. Resting in a sleepless dream. It’s the first time in years. And you love it.

Lyla shakes her head no, giggling because Lloyd tries to take her out of your arms. Her chubby little hands slap at his, until he finally relents, and quits torturing her. “Fine. Fine. I was going to show you your room, but maybe I should start with,” Lloyd gulps as he looks at you. His face flexes, and you wonder if he’s at war with himself. “Let’s look at Dolly’s room.”

“My room?” Lloyd nods, looking over you confused. “Our room,” Lloyd’s eyebrows raise as he nods his head. He may get used to you being more assertive. “I don’t want to be alone,” you haven’t wanted to be alone since that night. And now that he’s brought you out of the city, you want to be by his side, and prefer that Lyla is there as well.

“I didn’t ask for your explanation. If you’re comfortable with that, and that’s what you want. I think we’re both aware of where this relationship is going. And there’s something else I’d like to discuss,” Lyla lets out a big scream, her hand slaps your chest, and you look towards her. You’ll deal with his comment about where the relationship is going momentarily. Right now a nearly ten month old is begging for your attention.

Her mouth opens and closes, “Are you going to say dada? Go on, Lyla Bee, say dada.”

“Ahhh!” She screeches, looking up at you. A bit of frustration linked on her face, “Ma,” your eyes go wide looking towards Lloyd. “Mamamamamamama!!!” her daddy claps his hands. Laughing, smiling, and reaching towards her. Congratulating Lyla on her outburst of saying — mama.

“You did it! Oh my beautiful baby! You came in way too early, but you couldn’t help it,” your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. Unable to fully describe what you’re feeling, or even how you feel. She called you mama.

It’s not until you’re wiping your cheeks that you realize you’re even crying. You’ve never loved someone the way that you do Lyla, and even if you’ve imagined being her mother, and don’t correct people that call you her mom this is almost too much. Like the things you’ve been wanting are coming to fruition. Lloyd whispers your name as he pulls you into an embrace. He rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying the three of you back and forth. This would almost feel like it is going too fast had you not been watching Lyla for months.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I’m not her mother though.”

“No, you’re not. You’re her mom,” Lyla repeats the syllable over and over again. Giggling, and trying to get your attention by smacking at your shoulder. “You might not have birthed her, but you’ve become her mom. It only seems fair, and if you don’t want her to call you that,” he exhales slowly, and you furrow your brows watching his face show so many emotions. “I’ll respect your wishes,” he didn’t want to respect your wishes, and still he would.

“Where does that leave us?”

“Just where we are. Me, waiting patiently for you to decide where you want this relationship to go.”

“And if I don’t want anything romantic?” This is such a lie, but you need to know. Would he force into a relationship if you said you didn’t want it.

“Then why are you asking about our room?” You didn’t realize you had been trying to backtrack the status that you had set until now. Lloyd offered for you to have a separate room from his, and you insisted that you share. Lloyd offered to sleep on the couch while you were in his room, but you pouted for him to snuggle with you, and he did.

He had given you space, ample amounts of times. Allowed you to set the tone of the relationship, and it was you every time that was pulling him back into something romantic. It wasn’t trauma bonding. While there was a traumatic experience between the two of you, you’d been feeling things for him long before that night.

You goaded him. You teased him. You felt yourself come over and over again with his name on your mouth. Pranced in front of cameras he hid in your room and put on a show for him. You wanted him to break, and he never did. You heard him stroking his cock and moaning your name, but that’s because you went looking. He didn’t cross boundaries that you had put up.

“I’ll admit that I sowed the seeds of my attraction towards you, and made it clear immediately. When I pulled you over my lap and spanked you, I did enjoy seeing your pussy leaking, dripping, and clenching around nothing. I knew that you wanted more than anything for me to fuck you right there. Have you leaned over the couch while I fucked you so deep you can’t see straight. But until you explicitly say the words, I am just your employer. But Lyla is something else entirely.”

Those filthy words oddly sound like a beautiful sonnet. Yes, Lloyd pushed, and even demanded to be a dominant role in your life, but it wasn’t a push that made you hate him. It made you desire him more. And you have spent months wishing the man would just tell you what he was going to do to and for you.

You are so tired of being what others wanted. He got it. You wanted it, despite how depraved it may be. So he made the decision from you. Letting you sink into his world of sin without compromising your morals, because he was making you. But you wanted him to.

There are ways that you are becoming exactly what was expected of you, a kept woman. Except the way that Lloyd treated you, it was like you actually had autonomy in the situation. With Chase it was what he wanted, when he wanted it. Lloyd gave you a freedom that you didn’t think you would ever get, and you hadn’t realized it. And then he made you crave his rules. Because you also wanted to break some of those rules. Wanted to see him lose control because you knew he would take you to a place where you didn’t have to think.

“Explain this to me like I’m a child.”

“I can’t explain the things I want to do to you then. Because you’re not a child.”

“Then just put it into simple terms,” his mouth quirks crookedly. As if this animalistic part of him understands the delicate dynamic of your relationship. Balance. It all relies on balance, and trust, and love, and respect. All things that you’ve never been given.

“When Lyla is awake, we are as normal a couple as our neighbors,” gone is the city life. Lloyd couldn’t take such chances with you and her. Now you’re out in the suburbs with sprawling land on the property, secluded at home and still close enough to a small town that you and Lyla can live and not have people constantly watching you.

“When she’s asleep, everything will depend on your behavior.”

“Oh?” You inquire. Your fingers softly scratch over Lloyd’s belly, and the sweetest little baby smiles her two tooth grin, looking between the two of her favorite people.

“You’re pushing it now because Lyla can’t talk. But if you misbehave, I will have to punish you. I will have to drag you over my lap, while your bare ass gets spanked. And depending on how well you take it, I just may put you on your knees, so I can fuck you like the slut you are,” he pauses, waiting to see how you respond to his degradation. Reading your visual cues. His lips press just below your ear, and he chuckles.

“You’re heating up. I bet if I put my hand between your thighs, I could feel your cunt pulsing with a need to have me buried in you. You need a safe word. And I will obey. And I will not go further if you want me to stop.”

Your mind races as his hand travels from your hip. Dipping lower and lower. Skirting over your core to the other leg. “What will it be?”

“Night — nightingale.”

“Good girl,” you preen, but his hand stops their movement. “Now, do you want to make lunch or watch the baby.”

“What?” You look at him confused. He was just…he’s a fucking tease.

“The things I want to do to you, Lyla Bee has no business being a part of. However, it is lunch time, and I’m famished. If you’re ready for me to fuck that pretty little pussy stupid, you’ll have to wait,” you glower at him, and he smiles. “That’s for all those times you put on a show for me. Exposing those pert tits. Later, if you don’t want me to touch you, you can give me a striptease. And I will keep my hands off you, and just watch, until you say go. Here, you take the baby. I’ll make us some lunch.”

“You’re mean,” you whine. It is obnoxious how pitiful you sound, but he is teasing you. Touching you everywhere that you want him, and denying you.

“Aww,” he kisses your temple softly, handing you the baby. His mouth lingers on your skin. His warm breath fans over you, and thankfully Lyla giggles to break the trance, “But I’m not cruel. If you want me, you get this, so we have to be adults and be patient. But I can promise you, I will treat you with the utmost respect, and I will never make you feel like you are a prop in our lives. Do you understand that? Teasing is fun, but I won’t push you beyond your limits. If you need me to be what I am when we’re sleeping, I need to know. If you need me to fuck you stupid, I need to know. If you want me to make sweet beautiful love with you, I need to know.”

“You’re giving me a choice?” You’ve never been given a choice as to how sex should be. You just let them decide for you.

“It was always your choice,” he answers solemnly. His head bows, and he walks away to quickly. His own head spinning as to what you could have endured, especially with that infected cut on his arm. The Verb. One day, Lloyd will enjoy ending The Verb’s life so slowly that he begs for a quick kill. It won’t happen.

“Where’s Lloyd?” Roman demands, walking into Ari’s office. He gets too close to the man, and with one finger, Ari pushes him back. Roman is a nobody in this organization. Ari could end him before Roman even blinks. But then he’d piss off Lloyd, “Levinson, where is Lloyd?”

“Not here,” he doesn't have to tell Roman anything about Lloyd’s whereabouts. That is a need to know basis.

“He hasn’t been here for over a week,” your father’s stature is pathetic. He’s a tall wide man, but he doesn’t have the control to wield fear into people. Lloyd could eat him alive. Smiling at the man while he forks out his innards. Roman may look the part, and he may be smart, but he’s a fool.

“I take it you didn’t hear about the break into his apartment?”

“That doesn’t warrant his absence,” oh, Ari may have to keep this conversation to himself. Anything involving you, sets Lloyd in a terrible mood. Ari’s eyes slowly glance down the man’s body. “What?”

“Do you even know who is living with Lloyd?”

“My daughter,” there’s a pregnant pause between the two of the men, before Ari chuckles. Roman could never understand feelings such as love. Women are lesser beings to him, and none lesser than you, “I don’t see any reason to get all upset and for him to be missing.”

“You didn’t even ask what happened,” Roman stands there, immobile. His eyes are blank. “Someone broke into your daughter’s room.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yeah,” Ari didn’t quite subscribe to the fact that Roman hated his daughter like Lloyd thinks, until this moment. His expressions never waivers. He’s completely unphased.

“Where’s Lloyd then?” Rolling his eyes, Ari sighs, and turns his chair back around. He doesn’t even flinch when Roman's hand slaps the wall. His voice growling and low, “He’s fucking her, isn’t he? Her bitch of a mother taught her well. Spread your legs for a willing participant to make you rich. Guess she learned from the best. Do I get a bonus for giving Lloyd a live in sex doll?”

Ari smirks, staring at the computer screen. Letting Roman monologue his way into a bigger pile of shit than he already was. “We’re the same. I guess you need a pretty one with good breeding to be your broodmare, and on your arm for galas. But Lloyd Hansen will always have his professionals that he can really have fun with. Women like my daughter are to be kept at home.”

Keep going, asshole. Ari gets it. He didn’t even know you like Lloyd did. But what is going on between the two of you, is nothing that Roman is describing. Roman is explaining himself, creating excuses to the way he is. His only wife, and his only child. Lloyd isn’t Roman, and that man is far from being Lloyd. No one but Ari has seen the way that Lloyd watches you curiously. Or the fact that he had a special task in finding Lyla’s egg donor. Lloyd would have her killed before she took Lyla away from you.

“I guess his next goal is to pretend the baby is my daughter’s. He’ll probably fuck her raw until she gives him a legitimate child,” Ari grits his teeth. The disdain he has for you and Lyla is appalling. “If she ends up pregnant, he owes me,” he says, spinning on his heels. “At least she’s worth something now.”

“He owes you a bullet in your fucking head, you idiotic moron,” Lloyd had mentioned it was time to prune the people in his circle. He knows the next one to go. But Lloyd wouldn’t be back until you allowed him in. And he’d almost broke down your walls now. You’d been letting him in little by little. Trusting him a bit more not to break you. And only then would Lloyd return. You are his only assignment. And the only thing that mattered to him.

His girls.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit

@rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans

@ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13

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@abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber @tas-renee @kmm-fluv

[dokidokidraft]

MHA boys HC pt. 2

Includes: Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinso

(More next time)

Warning: tinyyyyy but of pervy behaviour from denki! If that makes you uncomfortable please skip his part 🫶

~Denki Kaminari~

-He’s always trying to make you smile and laugh! Lots of inside jokes

-Mario kart tournaments with this guy. He’s the king at any video game, so sorry for your loss. He’s beating you no matter what you try, but if he wants you to smile or feels bad he’ll let you win

-has scars from his quirk. They look like lightning strikes and line up his arms and some on his torso (this isn’t canon I just think it’s good for the character)

-a bit of a perv. Ex: caught staring at you multiple times. LOTS of suggestive comments. “Jokingly” has tried to look up your skirt. Buys you revealing clothes. Encourages you to wear said revealing clothes. Still your number 1 cheerleader tho and we love him •_•

-only he is allowed to be a perv around you. As soon as mineta makes a comment/acts he’ll glare at him. “She’s mine. Go bug Momo”

-When he overuses his quirk/short circuits, he relies completely on instinct. Somehow his instincts always lead him to you. It’s kinda cute

-gets bullied for his quirk. You will literally beat up anyone who does that tho

-such a bubbly personality. He’s such a sweetheart though

-*finger guns*

-has a pikachu plushie and/or onesie

-will charge your phone for you. It hurts him if he does it too much, but on the occasions when he’s fully charged himself, he’s doing it for you

-keep an portable charger with you! This guy forgets his all the time

-super friendly to everyone. Definition of extrovert. He’s always trying to take you out to do things. Once you went to the aquarium with him and he tried to stick his hand in the octopus tank

-sends you memes at 4 am titled “this is literally us”

~Eijiro Kirishima~

-MANLY

-you aren’t allowed to carry anything remotely heavy around him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I got that for you”

-pays for everything. You simply cannot offer to pay without him faking offence

-toxic masculinity? Who’s that?

-husky morning voice 🙏

-lets you watch him workout. If you what to join he’ll gladly help you use the equipment if you’re new to the gym, or simply be your spotter. If you don’t want to join him, he’s definitely showing off with the weights.

-classic romantic dates. Restaurants, and picnics are his specialty (definitely some gym dates mixed in there)

-always shirtless. He just wants to show off. It’s not like you’re complaining though….

-he’s really insecure about his quirk, and doesn’t think he’s good enough. Just remind him that you love him. Give him loads of attention and affection when he has his panic episodes.

-lets you dye/style his hair. His favourite positions is you sitting in the counter redoing his roots, while he’s in a chair in front of you. He doesn’t even need entertainment, he’s just enjoying the feeling of your gloved hands in his hair.

-loves when you wear his shirts. Especially his Red Riot merch ($-$)

-manly hands 🫡

-He personally doesn’t care much about PDA, he’ll do anything as long as you’re comfortable

-cannot cook for the life of him. Last time he was in the kitchen he caught his toast on fire

~Hitoshi Shinso~

-He is SO sleep deprived. You can tell by the bags under his eyes. Definitely has insomnia or something

-cat cafe dates with him. (I’m seriously thinking of writing a whole damn fanfic of this, just need motivation) he just loves cats sm, and he loves you, so this is the perfect plan according to him.

-needs his coffee in the morning. Can’t function without it. Also has his coffe without any cream or milk (like a psycho)

-Texts you really late at night for no reason. Even if he knows you’re asleep he’ll still do it cuz he’s bored

-messy hair 24/7

-late night walks with him. You guys don’t even have to talk, he’ll just walk with you beside him (he’ll hold your hand if he’s in the mood) and you’ll walk under the moonlight. Also loves to point out constellations to you

-once he grabbed something that you couldn’t reach for you, and you called him “your hero”. He’s never stopped thinking about it since

-usually does his training outside, late at night

-not a headcanon, but I’d just like to say, him in his mask 🛐

-has tired/dead eyes all the time. And looks hot in them too

-wears Jean jackets, hoodies, sweats, those weird fancy cotton shorts. And lets you steal all of them <3

-the type of boyfriend that gets jealous easily. Someone could look at you the wrong way and all of the sudden you guys “forgot to vacuum” and you’re getting swept off your feet and carried to his dorm for some cuddles

-asks for help studying. He does fine academically, he jus wants to spend time with you

Hope you guys enjoyed!!!

@kimyoudraft thought of you while writing for kiri 🫶

[shanastoryteller]

happy pride!!! much love!!! can we PLEASE have more zaggy boy? ✨🌺🌿

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Meg is in the middle of torturing several disobedient souls when Thanatos appears at her side. “I must speak with you.”

He outranks her, so she’d have to listen to him regardless, but the urgency in his normally flat tone is enough for a spike of worry to shoot through her. The only one able to pull an emotion from him besides irritation is Zagreus and he hadn’t even had this level of suppressed panic when he’d found out that Zagreus was attempting to escape to the surface. What could be worse than that?

She dismisses the souls and turns to him. “What’s going on?”

“Not here,” he says, and edge of nervousness around him that’s nearly enough to send her into an all out panic. They are alone, the only one able to overhear them is Hades if he’s paying attention and possibly Nyx, but that has never stopped him speaking freely before, or from assisting Zagreus on his escape attempts, something that is far more likely to catch Hades’s attention than the two of them having a conversation. He grabs her wrist, which she thinks is the first time he touched her since they were children. “Come with me.”

She doesn’t resist, letting him guide her through the levels of the underworld and then past them to the surface, which makes her nervous. She is a being of the underworld and unlike Thanatos, has no reason to venture to the surface. She is allowed, only because she’s never bothered before and so Hades has never had a reason to forbid here.

Meg is expecting Thanatos to settle them at the entrance of the underworld, out of reach of Hades’s eyes and ears but close to home.

Instead she finds herself in the middle of an orchard.

“Why are we – what are these?” She steps closer in fascination, the apples growing thick and fat amongst the branches, but not any sort of familiar hue. Instead they gleam silver in the afternoon sun, not like any apple she’s heard of on either mortal land or in Olympus. Strange yellow flowers crowd around the base of each tree, the grass soft and a vibrant green beneath her feet. “How? I thought – aren’t the mortals stuck in winter?”

“There is a god that stands against her,” Thanatos says.

Meg turns disbelieving eyes onto him. “Are they mad? Not even Zeus has been able to persuade Demeter to relinquish her grief. She even destroyed Dionysus’s vines and has driven the nymphs into slumber. When she find them, she’ll kill them, and no one will be able to stop her, just as they’ve been able to put an end to her winter. Who would be that foolish?”

Thanatos stares at her for one beat, then two, and by the third Meg can feel denial and desperation crawling up her throat.

“That’s impossible,” she snaps. “Be realistic. You said he couldn’t even escape under his own power, but you think that he can do this?”

“We are not the Prince’s Court,” he says. “It’s a real place, a piece of the underworld where Zagreus’s followers congregate after their death. Hypnos has been covering for him for years, ever since Zagreus’s first worshiper died and the Prince’s Court appeared on his scroll.” He visibly hesitates, then adds, “It’s beautiful. Even more so than Elysium.”

“No,” Meg says. “That’s impossible.”

“He has a blessed high priestess, and many more holy men and women, and temples, and this is one of the many orchards grown in his name,” he continues. “The call him Prince. They don’t even know his name. He’s – he’s done all this, and they don’t even invoke his name!”

Names hold power. Prince is a title, not a name, and so Zagreus has done all this nameless. Has cultivated a power of his parents but separate from them, building himself into the type of god that gets a throne on the pantheon without using the name his parents gave him.

No one has ever done that. Even Dionysus leaned into his status as his father’s son.

“You’re sure?” she asks. “It could be some other god, using Zagreus as a cover, to keep from attracting Demeter’s ire.”

Thanatos plucks one of the silver apples from the tree and presses it against her mouth.

She bites into it, the sweet flesh bursting against her tongue and the magic making her teeth rattle familiar and also achingly unfamiliar.

Zagreus’s magic causes strength to flood her body, one bite of an apple feeling like a god of Olympus granting her a boon.

She’s going to kill him.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 2: If Only You'd Been Here

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you (but ain't nobody love you like I do)

(In which a sadistic writer tortures her beloved ship a fair amount and maybe her readers too)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and maybe Fluff if you squint

Words: 6.5K (someone please be proud that it is in fact shorter 🙈)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good morning my lovelies <3 Just a couple of things I changed that you should know before you read. If you follow WCBB, you know UCLA didn't win the Pac-12 tournament in 2023 but in this universe they did. You also probably know they lost in the NCAA tournament last year to SC in the Greenville region but in this universe, for plot purposes, they're gonna be in the Seattle region. I kept their seeding and who they were playing vague because it was gonna get too complicated to figure out. Also if you saw my list of part titles a while ago, no you didn't lol. As always, feel free to know what you liked, what you didn't, and anything you'd like to see in future parts. And as you're reading, let's just remember y'all love me and everything I do is for the plot. Happy reading and have a wonderful week lovelies!

December 2022

The distinctly “car” smell of her car is starting to make Paige more than a little nauseous. Going by the way Drew is pouting in the passenger seat, he’s also clearly over it. They’ve been driving in circles for what feels like hours. At first, still enamoured with being allowed to sit in the front, her little brother had gone along with her ridiculousness. Now, as they approach maybe the 12th or so lap around the neighbourhood, he seems less than thrilled. 

“Alright let me out and you keep driving,” Drew says, fiddling agitatedly with his seatbelt, “I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Well hold it in,” Paige retorts unhelpfully as they re-round the block. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, ignoring the glare her brother sends her away. He takes in a dramatic breath and leans back onto his seat. She grips the steering wheel tighter as they pass the house again, still not brave enough to pull into the driveaway of a place she’d once considered just as much a home as her own. 

Drew lets out another groan, “I shoulda just stayed home.”

“Well you didn’t-” Paige’s reply is cut off by the sound of a phone call reverberating around the car. The CallerID reads “Azzi (DON’T YOU DARE IGNORE)”, a name the younger girl had plugged in herself with a warning look the day Paige had left LA. Chewing whatever dry skin is still left on her bitten-to-death lips, Paige clicks accept on the call. 

“What number lap is this?” comes Azzi’s exasperated voice and Paige can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face. 

“Oh you know my car’s feeling the need to exercise today,” Paige hums back, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than she had just a couple of seconds ago. Sometimes, she’s not sure how she managed to go a year with this constant heavy weight pressing down on her ribs, and no Azzi to slowly ease her out from under it. 

“Azziiiiii,” Drew whines dramatically, “please come save me. I’m gonna die in this car.”

Affronted, Paige splutters, “nobody forced you to come.”

“You begged me to come,” her young brother quips back and it elicits a laugh from the girl on the other end of the line. 

“I did-”

“Paige,” Azzi cuts her off, “just come inside okay? You’re wasting gas for nothing.”

“I- it’s just-,” Paige’s hands tighten even more around the wheel, as she stops on the sidewalk, switching on her turn signal, but still not entering the driveway. She leans her head against the wheel, overwhelmed by emotions she can’t quite name. Drew places a comforting hand on her back and she sends him a reassuring smile, trying to shield her younger brother from the havoc in her brain. 

“Hey,” Azzi’s voice floats through the fog, “it’s just me okay? Me and you and us. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

It’s like a child being soothed with their favourite binkie, that’s what Azzi’s promise feels like to Paige. She finally turns into the driveaway, and both Drew and Azzi cheer in tandem. The knot in her chest loosens just a little bit at that because the large crowds that scream for her make her feel adored, but this, her own personal cheer squad for her littlest of achievements, well it makes her feel loved. 

“Freedom,” Drew yells as he practically flings himself out of Paige’s barely parked car. She rolls her eyes fondly at her mini me as he dramatically pretends to kiss the ground. It’s a small distraction from the memories that are swirling like a tornado in her mind. Minnesota is home, it’ll always be home but this place, this had been her safe haven, something she could hold onto at a time where everything else was slipping out of her hands. And then, like a fool, she’d let go of it. 

The door opens even before they’ve made it halfway to the door and Azzi’s brothers run out into the front yard. Jon pretends to take pictures and José practically falls to his knees as they swarm around the blonde. 

“Paige, Paige, can we get a picture or an autograph please,” they yell teasingly, “please Miss Bueckers we’re your biggest fans.”

“Move over boys,” Tim Fudd’s booming voice hollers, as he swats his children away, “her biggest fan is actually me eh Paige?”

The girl in question nods solemnly, her smile stretching the full length of her face, and both Jon and José let out a groan as their father beams at Paige. And then Katie’s there, not a hint of anything but pure happiness on her face as she wraps the younger girl into a hug. Paige melts into the embrace, trying her hardest not to burst into tears. Because all she can think about is the hundreds of calls and texts from Azzi that she’d left unanswered, all she can think of is Azzi's devastated face as she’d told Paige about just how hard she’d tried and that wretched ache of i don’t deserve this i broke your daughters heart wraps itself around Paige’s  heart. 

Over Katie’s shoulder, Paige watches as Azzi finally walks out into the law, her cheeks immediately turning red from the cold. The younger girl winks at Paige with a radiant smile, before giving all her attention to Drew who almost trips as he excitedly launches himself into Azzi, tiny hands wrapping around her waist. Paige watches, still buried in the warmth of Katie’s arms, as Drew animatedly tells Azzi all the stories he possibly can and Azzi nods along emphatically as if she’s being told the most important facts of her life. And Paige takes a snapshot of it to add to her ever growing collection of moments i just knew. 

***

January 2023

“Call her.”

Paige doesn’t bother replying, burying her face further into her tear-soaked pillow. Maybe if she ignores her teammate, Caroline will get the message and go away. The earth-shattering pain that she’d subdued for the last couple of months had finally reared its ugly head. And that too at the worst time possible, when her team needed to be a source of strength and with cameras catching the teardrops falling as she mourned the loss of not being able to play in the epic UConn-Tennessee rivalry. She’d done so well at holding it in, breaking apart only a couple of times, sometimes alone and sometimes with Azzi on the other end of the line. Until tonight, when the bright lights and roaring crowd had reignited the itch to just fucking play ball. 

“Paige,” Caroline says again, “stop being stubborn and call her.”

“She has a game tomorrow, she doesn’t need my dramatic ass worrying her right now,” Paige replies, getting into a sitting position when she realises the other girl isn’t about to just let this go. 

“You’re eventually going to call her. The two of you haven’t gone one day without talking to each other since this summer,” Caroline gives her a look, a hint of a smirk play on her face when it tints Paige’s cheeks pink, “seriously, just call her.”

It’s not that Paige doesn’t want to. She’d scrolled through her contacts and stopped at Azzi’s one too many time’s tonight. And each time, just as her fingers had hovered over the green call button, she’d felt guilt claw at her neck. Since she’d shown up in LA, Azzi had shown up for Paige every step of the way, checking in regularly, listening to Paige vent her anger at the world and whispering words of comfort that only sounded true when they came from Azzi’s mouth. Sometimes, if she tries really hard, Paige can feel the ghost of Azzi’s arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders, just as they had that one night in LA when Azzi had held her, so delicately as if she was made of porcelain, through the worst of her breakdowns. 

“She needs to focus on her game,” Paige says after a moment. 

Caroline sighs, mind wandering to the countless texts on her phone from Azzi begging her to take care of Paige and to let her know when the blonde wasn’t doing okay, “I know but she’d want you to call her if she knew. You need her.”

“And where was I when she needed me?” it’s the word need that triggers it, the quick snap because it’s all Paige has been able to think about lately. 

Without basketball, she’d had far too much time on her hands and she’d ended up going down a spiral of watching Azzi’s games from her freshman year, something she’d religiously avoided doing when they had happened live. At first, it had just been this immense feeling of pride, seeing her best friend be the college basketball phenomenon Paige had always known she would be. She’d shoved away the envy of it was supposed to be us that immersed her seeing the way the Bruins celebrated their new star player, and just let herself be happy in her best friend’s happiness. 

And then something changed around at the beginning of January 2022. It had only lasted a couple of games, but Azzi had hit a wall. Threes were short, cuts were made at the wrong time and she kept on getting lost on defence in a way that was very unlike her. And all Paige could focus on, eyes glued to the screen, was how completely and utterly exhausted Azzi looked during that stretch, despite the fact that she’d just come back from winter break. The smile had vanished off her face, replaced by stress lines Paige wished she could go back in time and erase. 

It wasn’t until she’d binged through all the games, cheering silently as Azzi slowly returned to form, that the realisation had hit Paige. She’d been slapped with the memory of a store decorated brightly for Christmas and a familiar voice calling her name, as she’d purposely walked the other way, pretending she hadn’t heard and the more than deserved i’m done trying text that had followed right after. For a year, perhaps longer, Paige had convinced herself that she was the only one who had lost something, she was the only one who had a right to hurt, to break. And still, she thinks she’d take all of that pain again a thousand times, if it means she could erase the fact that in all of her self-pity, she’d broken Azzi too.

“Where was I when she needed me?” she repeats again to Caroline, as the brunette stares at her in confusion, “the answer to that Carol, is that I was anywhere but with her.”

Caroline’s eyes soften in realisation as she takes a cautious step towards Paige, “oh P don’t do this to yourself.”

“I want to call her,” Paige confesses in a whisper, tears brimming in her eyes, “it’s the only thing I’ve wanted to do all day and maybe- maybe I should have but I’m just- I’ve been so unfair to her.”

“You were hurt Paige.”

“I know- I know that. But so was she. You don’t- god Carol- you don’t even know the things I said to her before she left for LA. And she’s still here,” the first tears fall from her blue eyes, and then the next and the next until there’s a steady waterfall streaming down her face, “you know I almost didn’t let her in when she first came over this summer?”

Caroline doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to come sit next to Paige and wrap her arms around the point guard. 

“I didn’t answer her calls or her texts for a year and still, still she’s picked up every call, replied to every text I’ve sent her since summer. I know- I know I need her and she’s going to be there of course she is. But when she needed me, where was I?” Paige drops her face into her hands, “I just- I don’t deserve her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Caroline rubs Paige’s back and lets the older girl wallow in her guilt. And then she reaches for Paige’s phone on the nightstand, ignoring the little grunt of protest. When the screen lights up, there’s already a notification of new messages from Azzi and Caroline can’t help but smile. 

“I think,” she begins softly, “Azzi’s a smart girl so maybe give that tiny little brain of yours a little bit of rest and let her decide who deserves her,” she hands Paige her phone “let her be there for you. I think maybe she needs that too.”

Caroline gives Paige’s shoulders a little squeeze before heading out the doors, giving the older girl a moment of privacy. Paige sighs, getting herself comfortable against her pillows, and rubbing away her tears, before finally giving in and pressing the facetime call button. 

“Do you want a distraction or do you want to talk about it?” Azzi says as soon as she picks up and Paige can see the concern etched all over her face.

“Or maybe I’m perfectly fine?”

“Ah we’re playing the pretend game tonight. Should have cleared your throat for a second longer maybe Miss Perfectly Fine, your eyes are red as fuck and you sound like a dying cat.” 

“Wow, that was rude. Maybe I’m sick?” 

“With what? The “lies to her best friend” flu?”

“That UCLA education has you making up illnesses now? Damn Az, you’re supposed to get smarter in college.”

“You’re so funny, like so funny,” Azzi huffs sarcastically before they both dissolve into giggles. It’s always just been so easy with them. And Paige’s isn’t a poet, but if she was, she’d write sonnets about the sound of Azzi’s laughter, and the way it makes the corner of her eyes crinkle. 

“I watched the game,” Azzi says after a second, “and I saw you.”

Paige smirks, “so you didn’t actually watch the game, just stared at my gorgeous face the whole time?”

“There’s that comedian streak of yours again.”

“Hey you’re the one who said you were watching me instead of the game. But who could blame you really?”

“I didn’t-” Azzi rolls her eyes, as Paige’s cocky smirk deepens, “stop it.”

“You can admit I’m a pretty girl Az,” she teases, delighted when it makes the younger girl blush. 

“Fuck off, you have enough people telling you you’re a pretty girl.”

“Yeah but it means more coming from you,” she says quietly, biting her lip. It’s not the kind of thing you’re supposed to say to your best friend, at least not in the soft, wanting way that Paige says it. Except they both know that the lines in their friendship are far more blurred than they should be, even if they've both done a pretty fantastic job at ignoring that kiss. Paige had learned over Christmas that Azzi was exceptionally good at the pretending part, moving away the moment Paige’s hands lingered a little longer than they should, changing topics if they even got anywhere near addressing the something between them. It shouldn’t have hurt but it did and Paige doesn’t understand how she can so desperately miss something that she never even had in the first place. 

“So distraction then?” Azzi says after a second, changing the subject back to her initial question. 

Paige closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath, “it was just- it was a lot tonight. I didn’t realise I was being that obvious.”

“You weren’t. I just know you a little too well.”

“These are my favourite types of games, you know. The rivalry, the crowd booing my name and getting the chance to quiet them, that’s- that’s the type of game players live for and I just- I miss it Azzi. I miss shooting, I miss defending, I miss just standing on the fucking court sometimes. I miss playing basketball. So. Fucking. Much,” a fresh set of tears leak out of Paige's eyes, as her free hand fists at her bedsheets. 

There’s silence as Paige’s words linger in the air. In a way it’s freeing to be able to say it out loud, to just let herself feel how she feels instead of fighting them. 

“You’re gonna miss it every day until you play again,” Azzi says quietly, her own voice thick with emotions, “and it’s not really gonna get easier until you get it back. But when you finally do, just- just imagine it okay, your first game back. The feeling of the crowd. Dribbling up the court. Making that first shot as everybody loses their minds. Finally just playing the game you love. That’s when that feeling of loss will finally go away.”

Using Azzi’s steady breathing as an anchor to still her erratic heartbeat, Paige lets herself get lost in the picture the younger girl has just painted for her. She lets her mind run to the future that lies ahead of her and if she focuses hard enough she can almost hear the Gampel crowds roaring as she finally returns to the court. 

“It’s kinda really fucking annoying how you always know what to say,” no it isn’t, it’s the only thing that’s keeping Paige going these days. 

“Surviving an ACL injury will do that to a girl,” Azzi says with a pained smile. 

That’s not it Paige thinks, it’s not experience, it’s you and I really wish you were here. But she can’t say that, so she changes the subject instead. 

“Tell me about your game tomorrow.”

They both settle back into their pillows, getting into more comfortable positions. Azzi tells Paige all about her upcoming game and then moves onto another topic, then another and another and another. They’ll wake up tomorrow morning to phones that died and no memory of when they’d fallen asleep. And then they’ll remember who was on the other end of the line, and if that makes them smile a little too hard, well that’s just another thing they’ll pretend didn’t happen. 

***

March 2023

It’s only natural that when Paige finally feels like she can learn to live with just having a little bit of Azzi, that the world would show her just how wrong she could be. She’s been in a much better headspace these days, her knee finally starting to feel like itself again, bit by bit. The guilt of not being able to help her team is still settled into the pits of her stomach but even with that, she’s reached a sort of acceptance. And while she’s still struggling to fight the part of her heart that wants so much more, she’s learning to be content with just having her best friend back.

It’s that little bit of time in between conference tournaments and the NCAA tournament when it feels like the calm before the storm and it’s the first weekend since before the season that the UConn team finally gets to go out and let loose for a bit. They’re riding the height of winning another Big East title and even if it’s a little bittersweet that they did it without her, Paige is beyond the moon happy for her team. 

She turns up the music in her room and changes the lights for the sake of a little ambience, before sitting down at her desk, to call Azzi and do what little of her makeup she knows how to do. Normally she’d get one of the other girls or Kayla to do it, but she’d rather sacrifice a flawless makeup look then miss out on having Azzi tease her about how she still didn’t quite know how to do her eyeliner properly yet. 

The fact that it takes Azzi longer than the third ring to pick up should be Paige’s first warning sign but instead she’s sucking in a deep breath at the sight of her best friend who looks breathtakingly beautiful tonight. Paige’s heart stutters as she takes in Azzi’s face, the light layer of red lipstick (that Paige wants to kiss off), the blush-tinged cheeks (that Paige wants to caress delicately) and the perfectly done mascara on her eyelashes (that Paige wants to feel flutter against her own skin). 

She lets out a low appreciative whistle, “celebrating that Pac-12 championship in style huh?”

“Something like that,” Azzi bites her lip and really that should have been warning sign number two, “was there- was there something you needed?’

“I can’t just call you?” Paige asks, noticing the tension on Azzi’s face, “are you busy?”

“No it’s not-”

“She is actually,” a different voice cuts in aggressively and Azzi immediately gives whoever it is an exasperated look. Paige doesn’t know who it is, but she guesses it’s one of the UCLA players. It’s no secret they aren’t huge fans of her. They’d made that much clear the few times they’d met Paige during September, always regarding her with a wary eyes. It wasn’t their fault really, Paige understood their protectiveness, in fact she appreciated it more than they would ever understand. 

“Chill Angela.” 

“Are you not busy then?” the other voice who Paige assumes is Angela Dugalic says, clearly a little annoyed. And then Azzi’s phone is being shifted away from her and instead it’s Angela’s face that covers Paige’s screen. 

“Oh,” the blonde manages to get out, taken aback by the sudden change, “hi Angela.”

“Hi Paige,” the other girl says, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. 

“Angela,” there’s a clear warning in Azzi’s voice and Paige already knows, even before the words are let out into the open, that whatever Dugalic is about to say is going to tear her apart. 

“Azzi has a date tonight,” Angela pronounces the last words with a gleeful lilt. 

The world spins and Paige’s head spins with it, as she grips onto her desk for some semblance of stability. She can hear Azzi spluttering in the background as she tries to get her phone back but it’s of no use as the UCLA forward powers on. 

“With a really pretty girl,” Angela smirks at the camera, clearly trying to prove something, “Zoe’s really wonderful. You’d like her, Paige.”

Zoe. Recognition registers in Paige’s brain. She remembers seeing the name flashing on Azzi’s phone a couple of times, accompanied by a photo she never quite caught a glimpse of. But as she tended to do with most phone calls that came during her time with Paige, Azzi had simply just declined the call and texted whoever that she’d call her back later. And so Paige hadn’t really bothered caring about Zoe, chalking her up to being some random friend Azzi had made. But fuck, maybe she should have cared. 

“And Azzi really likes her I think. They’ve been tiptoeing around it for ages you know? But we all knew it was only a matter of time.”

A strangled noise escapes Paige’s throat and she tries her best to disguise it as anything but the cry of despair it is. It feels like there’s a thousand knives digging into her skin, pressing harder and harder until she has no blood left to bleed. 

“They’re gonna make the cu-”

“Give me my phone back Angela,” Azzi’s voice cuts in harshly and Paige hurriedly rushes to contort her features into a smile right before the camera’s back to facing her best friend. 

“So you’re all dressed up for a date then?” Paige manages to get out and the word date sounds like bile on her tongue. 

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” comes Angela’s voice again; the girl seemingly on a mission to break Paige as much as possible, “give her a proper look Az.”

“Angela,” Azzi hisses through gritted teeth. 

“N-no show me the fit,” Paige counters, because that’s what a best friend’s supposed to say right? Show me how fucking perfect you look for a girl that’s not me

Azzi hesitates, swallowing nervously, before she takes a couple of steps back so the camera captures all of her. And Paige wishes she’d never asked to be shown in the first place, hell she wishes she’d never bothered to call tonight. Because she thinks the image of Azzi’s casual light blue jeans and simple green off-the shoulder top will be etched in her mind forever, captioned with the words not for you. 

“You look lovely Azzi,” she whispers quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Zoe won’t be able to keep her fucking hands off of you,” Angela supplies and this time the glare Azzi shoots her is murderous. 

“I think I hear Emily calling your name Angela.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes,” Azzi says pointedly, “yes you do.”

Angela rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest this time. She turns to the phone with a devilish grin, clearly feeling accomplished in being a menace, “nice talking to you Paige.”

She waltzes out, leaving Paige, Azzi and a silence that feels like it could drown them. 

“You could have told me,” the blond says after a second, averting her eyes from the screen, “aren’t dates the kind of thing best friends are supposed to tell each other?”

“Paige-”

“It’s good though- you-uh- you deserve a night out.”

“P-”

“Listen, I uh- I’m going out too so- I- umm- I better get going but-,” Paige takes in a deep breath, “have a- have wonderful time on your date Az.”

She hangs up before Azzi can reply, the concern in the younger girl's eyes becoming too much to bear. For a moment, she stares straight ahead at the wall, just processing. And then she lets herself fall apart. 

***

It’s 1 a.m., Paige is drunk and miserable and so fucking tired; it’s an extremely dangerous combination. Aaliyah and Amari had practically had to carry her to her dorm because she’d been stumbling far too much and everyone was worried she’d eventually fall flat on her face. Personally, Paige thought they just didn’t have enough faith in her. She wasn’t even that drunk, she couldn’t be. After all she could still feel that stupid Azzi-sized scar on heart and wasn’t the whole point of being drunk supposed to be not being able to feel? But she has to be drunk because sober her would know better than to do what she does next, would know better than to call Azzi when she has no control over herself. 

“Paige? Is everything okay? Are you okay,” Azzi’s voice is filled with concern when she answers.

“Azziiiii,” Paige slurs, “areyoustillwithyourdate?”

“What?”

“Are. you. still. with. your. date?” Paige pronounces each word slowly. 

“I- yeah. She’s in a different room. Paige, are you okay?” 

“Interesting,” the blonde remarks quietly, “you never picked up her calls when you were with me. And we weren’t even dating.”

She hears Azzi’s breath hitch on the other end, can almost picture her doing that nervous swallow of hers, “ I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You didn’t care if she was okay then? Those times she called you?”

“That’s not- she didn’t call me at 1 a.m.” the younger girl justifies hollowly. 

“Bullshit,” Paige scoffs, “1 a.m. isn’t even that fucking late. Why is it so hard for you to admit you care about me waaaayyyyy more than you care about Zara or whatever?”

“Zoe. You’re drunk Paige, go to bed,” and Paige really should listen to the edge in Azzi’s voice.

“Where did y’all go?” she asks lightly, changing the subject, “c’mon Az, best friends share their date stories right?”

“Baltaire,” Azzi relents, choosing to let this battle go. 

“Oooh that restaurant we passed that one time wow,” Paige coos, “too fucking bad you hate fine dining huh? But she wouldn’t know that now would she? Because she doesn’t fucking know you.”

“Paige please,” Azzi breathes out quietly in a pained voice.

“But you know who does know you? Me. And I would have never taken you to some boring old fancy ass piece of shit restaurant like that.”

“Don’t-”

“I would have taken you on a picnic. Do you remember that park you loved, the one by my air bnb? There, that’s where I would have taken you. And I’d have gotten you supermarket sushi even though I fucking hate that shit but I know, I know, you like it. And flowers. Did she get you flowers? Because I- I would have. Roses and peonies and lilies, a whole fucking bouquet.”

And Paige is crying again, for the second time tonight, one hand gripping at her phone as the other one tries to wipe away the frantically falling teardrops. 

“And we’d stay at that park til the sun goes out and I’d take a polaroid of you in the sunset and I’d keep it forever. I swear Azzi, I’d keep it forever and I’d put it on my wall.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, as if it’s the only word she knows, as if it’s the only word that matters. 

“I’d bring my laptop so that when it finally gets dark, we can watch a movie. You choose Az, whatever you want. And I’d get distracted and start playing with your hair or something and you’ll pretend it’s annoying you but you’d be smiling. Fuck I love your smile.”

“You can’t- you can’t just say these things Paige.”

“Why not? It’s the truth right- why can’t I say the truth?,” Paige says petulantly, “but hush okay I’m not- I’m not finished yet. And then, then we’d just lie under the stars and it'd just be you, me and the sky. Perfect.” 

Azzi lets out a broken sob and Paige hates it, she hates it but she keeps on talking. 

“And then I’d take you home and I’d kiss you,” she whispers the last bit like a confession, “everywhere. Fuck, I’d make it so good for you Az. So good. Everything you wanted, everything you needed, I’d give you all of it. I’d make you come apart on my fingers and then my tongue-”

“Shut up,” Azzi’s voice is suddenly cold and frosty and it feels like all the heat has been sucked out of Paige’s room as well, “shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Azzi-”

“No,” Azzi all but yells, “you don’t get to say all of that to me.”

“Then who does? Her? Zia or whatever? Who the fuck even is she?” Paige spits out venomously.

“Zoe. Her name is Zoe and you wanna know she is Paige?” 

She should say no. She should apologise for interrupting Azzi’s date and hang up the phone, but no, Paige doesn’t do any of that, “enlighten me why don’t you.”

“She’s the girl who was there,” Azzi says, her voice cracking, “she’s the girl who held me last year when I was going through the worst time of my life. She was there when I couldn’t make a fucking shot and I thought maybe I’d never be good enough. She was there when I let the pressure and the media and all of it get to my head. She was there when I was crying my eyes out over losing the one person I was sure would always stay. She- she’s who you were supposed to be because she was there, and you weren’t.”

Paige isn’t sure if it’s the bitterness behind Azzi’s words or the brokenness of her sobs that is the reason for the ache in her own chest. All she knows is that she still remembers tearing her ACL, and she doesn’t think it hurt as much as this. 

“It was supposed to be you,” Azzi sniffles, “I wanted it to be you. Because I’d have let you- fuck- Paige- I’d have let you take me on a picninc and if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favorite mac and cheese. I- I know you don’t really care about flowers so I’d get you chocolate, the rum-filled ones that you love. And that sunset polaroid would have been a selfie of us, where you’re kissing my cheek and I’d have it framed. I’d pick out a movie but first- first you could watch whatever basketball game was on and you’d get exasperated when I don’t know the team because I’m literally a basketball player,” she lets out a wet laugh, “but I know you secretly like explaining the NBA to me. And then- then I’d have let you take me home and I’d let you take everything. Whatever you wanted, it’d be yours.”

The vivid image of a date that never happened fills every inch of Paige’s brain. She feels like she’s in a bad dream, trying so hard to reach for a happiness that keeps on evading her grasp. 

“But you weren’t there then Paige, and you aren’t here now.” 

“Azzi-” Paige chokes out. 

“Go to bed Paige,” the younger girl says, her voice shaky but adamant, ‘Get some sleep. Maybe you’re drunk enough that you won’t remember this when I call you tomorrow.”

“Right. So we’re gonna pretend this never happened. Again. We’ll just keep on pretending forever I guess,” Paige retorts bitterly. 

“Yes, we will. Because if I stop pretending, I don’t think I’ll be able to survive.”

***

The buzzer rings around Climate Pledge Arena as the UCLA women’s basketball team loses in the Elite 8 on a last second buzzer beater. Azzi’s face contorts into one of sheer disappointment, and in the stands, Paige feels her own heart drop. She’s not one to root for a team outside of her own and god knows what would happen if Nika found out that she’d been screaming her head off each time the Bruins, or at least one specific Bruin, scored, but for Azzi, well, there’s not many of her own rules that Paige follows when it comes to her best friend. 

It had taken a fair amount of convincing on Paige’s part to even be able to come to this game. Everyone had wanted to leave immediately after the Sweet 16 loss but Paige had insisted they needed to stay in Seattle, do something to get the team’s mind off of the terrible end to their season. And that wasn’t a complete lie because even if she hadn’t been able to help when they needed it on the court, she could try and help boost morale. But she knew her teammates weren’t fooled. They knew the schedule just as well as she did and they knew exactly what or better yet, who she wanted to stay for. 

On the court, Paige can tell Azzi’s fighting back tears. The brunette had given it her all, scoring an efficient 34 points and really the game could have gone any way. That last minute heave from the opposing team really probably shouldn’t have gone in, but at the end of the day the NCAA tournament was a lot about skill but also a little about luck. But Paige knows, Azzi isn’t thinking about any of that, too busy finding a way to blame herself even though she’d had a near perfect night. They were just too similar sometimes. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker through the stands, clearly looking for a familiar face. Paige resists the urge to run on to the court and pull the younger girl into her arms and soothe away the defeated look in her eyes, if only for the fact that Azzi doesn’t actually even know she’d figured out a way to stay back for this game. Despite being in the same city, they hadn’t been able to spend nearly as much time together and while Paige’s teammates had tried to be of some help, Azzi’s teammates had seemed determined to pull her away as much as possible. All of that on top of the fact that they’re still playing that stupid game of pretend had left Paige wanting for just one moment alone for the two of them. 

As soon as the UCLA team starts heading back to their locker room, and the crowd starts leaving, Paige scurries towards where she knows Azzi will be. Their assigned locker room isn’t that far from where UConn’s had been and Paige gets there in almost record time, her mind firmly planted on being there for Azzi. She’d missed so many opportunities, but this time, this time she’d be there. 

Azzi’s leaning against the wall, her eyes closed and Paige has to take in a breath at the sight of her. Sweat sheens against her tan skin and her gameday braids are falling apart just a little but still, she’s perfect. Before Paige can take a step towards her, there’s another girl, all dark hair and long legs, brushing past her, rushing to get to Azzi’s side. It’s like the world has stopped and yet is spinning too fast all at the same time, as Paige watches this girl, Zoe, pull Azzi, Paige’s Azzi, into her arms. 

After the night of the date (and everything else they’re ignoring), Paige hadn’t bothered to bring it up and Azzi had never said anything about it again. Naively, the blonde had thought that maybe that meant nothing much had transpired after the date, silently patting herself on the back for possibly even having had a hand in that. Except, the way Zoe holds Azzi isn’t fucking platonic and the way Azzi relaxes in Zoe’s arms, isn’t fucking friendly. 

“I”ve got you Az,” Zoe whispers into Azzi’s hair and Paige wants to die. She should look away, she should walk away but her feet seem to be glued to the ground. And she remembers the way Azzi’s eyes were searching the crowd and oh- she’d been looking for- Paige can’t even let herself complete the thought because she’s sure she’ll burst into flames the second she does. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Azzi says quietly to Zoe. To Zoe, and not Paige. If she could feel anything beyond the dagger twisting in her heart, maybe Paige would hear the way there’s still a tinge of disappointment in Azzi’s voice, as if she’s wishing it was someone else. 

It takes Zoe pressing a kiss into Azzi’s forehead, eliciting a sigh from the brunette for Paige to finally tear her eyes away. Her feet finally move and then she’s running faster than she has in a long time, ignoring the way it causes her muscle to ache. She can’t tell if her rapid blinking is to usher away the tears or to try and prevent the memory of Azzi with some other girl from welding itself into her eyelids. It blurs her vision and in the speed of things, she can barely tell where she’s going. Paige runs chest-first into a wall, bruising her elbow. Her phone slips out of her hands, falling to the ground with a loud thud, the screen protector cracking into pieces. 

And when Paige looks at the mess of her phone on the floor, she thinks it couldn’t possibly have cracked harder than this silly little stupid heart of hers.

[raeofsunrise]

hey!! can i request finnick enamored with a reader who plays hard to get? and she’s desirable like finnick and they met in the capitol after snow tried to push the image of them being king and queen with equal levels of desirability? thanks!

showing my cards ☆ finnick odair x f. reader

summary: never would you let someone like finnick odair into your life, but finnick odair was an exception.

warnings: mentions of sex trafficking, finnick’s trafficking, no use of y/n, poorly written dialogue, capitol issues, first meeting cliche, reader’s hard to get, mentions of alcohol, i dont know if i love this or hate it

1k words

~・☆・~

you’d never liked it easy. whether it was intentional or not, you always found a way to make things harder then they had to be. maybe it was your upbringing, maybe it was just the way you were, but you never found the right person.

even as queen of panem.

it wasn’t anyone’s fault, truly. growing up was about survival. the games and everything after that was about survival. but god, how you wished that you could love someone.

it wasn’t like your life was incomplete without love, but you’d never found that someone to love. it was never…right. always some downside to the person.

it didn’t help that you changed your mind right as someone’s hand found their way into yours, or someone’s lips found their way to your lips. you wanted to live in it, to revel in the feeling of passion someone was giving to you, but it never clicked. and you hated it. it made you feel uncertain.

you never let that uncertainty show though. that’s how you got your title: “the poker faced jewel of panem. never letting her real feelings thorough. so misleading. so mystical. so hard to get.

and you played along. better to let them think you’re a person who leads another on because of no particular reason than to let them see through your facade you’d put on for so many years.

unfortunately, wittiness and mysteriousness can also earn you another title; desirable. and no urge is too nauseating to fulfill in the capitol.

parties, where the drinks tasted like a perfume your stylist had selected for you that evening. dinners, where even outside of a camera’s view, you had to entertain. to put on a performance.

it was at one of these parties, though, where you’d been invited with no certain reason why. the only other victor at this party was the only one in the capitol who was as beloved as you.

it had been four years after your “victory” in the hunger games, so you knew everyone fairly well. you just never got around to introducing yourself to finnick odair. seemed odd enough too, seeing as you were neighbors in district four. he was rarely home, though. a situation you knew all too well.

you decided tonight could be the night. as good as any other capitol party. you waited for when he finally got out of the grasp of a very handsy customer, who looked like she’d been downing glass after glass of alcohol.

you turned around, preparing yourself to walk up to him, only to turn around and be met with the sight of eyes that could make the waters part.

and for a split second, it felt like this was how you were supposed to live. in each other’s presence.

you decided to speak first. “hello, odair.” you say.

“looking for some fresh air tonight?” he asks, walking towards the entrance of the building.

strangely, you already felt comfort in his foreign presence. feelings of an unknown name started to bubble up, and you couldn’t allow that to happen.

“why? trying to get me alone so you can dazzle me into dating you?” you reply, having absolutely no idea where the cold undertone came from.

finnick knew of your repuation, but he also knew that every victor has their role. whether it be the crazy one, or the one with nothing to lose. it was something he knew all too well. but still, hearing your sarcastic remarks and replies made his heart flutter a little more each time. so he kept pushing.

he put a hand on his chest, feigning injury. “ouch,” he says. “seems like someone’s enjoying the party.”

you let out a scoff. “yes, absolutely ecstatic about my being here.” you say, walking ahead of him and outside.

you make your way to a sort of balcony, overlooking a garden in the gorgeous front yard of someone’s mansion. you pitied the person that would have to clean up after this.

finnick walks up next to you, leaning his arms against the railing, mirroring you.

“what is the queen of panem thinking about?” he says, sarcasm and humor delicately laced into his voice.

you turn your head to look at him. you were about to speak, but the sight that was in front of you was jarring.

you knew finnick was gorgeous. it was a known fact throughout panem. but cameras did not do him justice. you never understood why he needed all the fancy lighting the capitol provided. the moonlight cascading down his face and drawing out his features was certainly enough for you, you thought.

remembering the question he had asked god knows how long ago, you brought yourself back to reality. “she thinks about why finnick odair is asking what she thinks about.” you say, turning your head away from him and looking down.

he laughs. “touché.” he says, trailing off.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh. you don’t know why, there’s just something so intimate about the whole interaction.

you decide it’s your turn to ask a question. “how’re you enjoying the party?” you ask.

“party? could’ve sworn it was a funeral with how many people there look like they could’ve witnessed the rebellion.” he says, earning a laugh from you.

finnick swears that making you laugh within the first ten minutes of your meeting is one of his biggest accomplishments. he’d been enamored with you since he’d heard your laugh that night.

you’ve never known what it’s felt like to have someone go this far without making you change your mind, so you let the conversation happen.

you’ve heard of finnick’s reputation. his alleged personality, his habits. you’d never let someone like finnick into your life. but finnick himself could slide.

maybe, just maybe, you’d show your cards for finnick odair.

hii!! really hope you like what i did with the request! i tried to put in every component but i may’ve gone a bit astray! please leave feedback it’s greatly appreciated ☆

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Could I maybe request a spicy fic in which the reader sees her turtle boyfriend in combat with an enemy and thinks it’s sexy? And she shyly confesses that seeing him kick ass makes her all hot and bothered? And some spiciness ensues after he teases her about it?

It could be any turtle or iteration (although I kinda had maybe Raph or Mikey in mind) 👉👈

Purple Dragon Roleplay In The Sewer (18+)

2003!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: The lucky wheel has decided! It is 03 Mikey time! I had a lot of fun with this, but sadly it didn’t make my sickness go away😭😂🧡 (And yes, it’s a strange title. I know!😂)

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Playful serious roleplay, fingering, orale - female receiving, sex in the sewer, spelling of course.

You should probably have been a little more concerned over the situation in front of you, but you just couldn’t help yourself. From your hiding spot behind the dumpster, you watched as your boyfriend and his brothers took down the band of Purple Dragons, your eyes staying on Michelangelo at all time. His muscles flexing as he swung his nunchucks, the concentrated look on his face, and then the smile and the small funny comment he would make after he knocked someone out.

You felt a tingle in your stomach, the sight reminding you of more intimate times between you and your boyfriend. His muscles would move the same way, his face would frown in the same concentrated expression, and he would smile that boyish smile with those sweet dorky comments that would make your heart jump in excitement. And as you watched him in combat, you couldn’t help your growing excitement nor the emerging wetness between your legs.

With the last Purple Dragon beaten, you, Mikey and the others started your retreat back to the lair. As you walked through the sewers, Mikey followed closely behind you, letting his older brothers walk ahead, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, leaning his mouth down next to your ear, causing you to walk slower as he spoke to you.

“Why are you smelling so sweet right now, babe?”, he asked, a smirk thick in his voice. He knew that scent way too well, and if it was strong enough to overpower the smell of the sewers, then it was certainly strong.

You felt heart run to your cheeks as you slowly came to a hold, the others continuing to walk and talk as if you and Mikey were still behind them. You knew you couldn’t run from this, or the playful smirk on Mikey’s face. He knew what mood you were feeling, and he would love to know what had gotten you this excited. He always wanted to know, so he could use it to get you hot and bothered another time. Not that you would complain. It usually ended up with some very hot and heavy evenings when you were alone.

“Uhm…”, you said, biting your lip as you avoided Mikey’s eyes. Oh, he knew this was going to be good, and he would definitely tease you with it. “When I saw you… fight the Purple Dragons… it reminded me of… when we… you know… do… that”, you continued, moving your hands in a hinting gesture.

Mikey's smile grew brighter, this thumb stroking your skin as he pulled you closer against his plastron. “You’re saying that you liked watching me out there?”, he asked, moving closer and closer to your face, your breath hitching at his actions. Even after such a long time together, he still managed to make your body react with excitement. “That watching me punch some Purple Dragons turned you on?”

You bit your lip once more, staring into his beautiful eyes for a moment before nodding with a shy smile.

Mikey hummed at your words, throwing a quick glance at his brothers, making sure that he had left around the corner, before he turned his attention back towards you. “You said it reminded you of when we have sex”, he said bluntly, his smile still strong and bright as he took a step closer to you, causing you to back up against the wall, tingling excitement spreading throughout your body.

You felt the curved brick wall against your back with Mikey standing in front of you, his plastron almost touching your chest, his hands coming to rest on the wall, just by your head.

“Or”, he said, lowering his face down to your level once again. “Is it because you want to handled just as rough as I handle a Purple Dragon?”

You almost gasped, pressing your thighs together, happily shocked by Mikey’s words. It wasn’t because Mikey didn’t dirty talked to you before, because oh, he did, but because you hadn’t expected him to jump straight to the point like that. But you liked it, the scent of your arousal hitting Mikey’s nostrils once more, letting him know that he was on the right track. And then you said something that confirmed his suspicion.

“Let’s say I was a Purple Dragon you had caught down here”, you said, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. “What would you do?”

With a smile and a swift move, Mikey turned you around, keeping your hands behind your back as he pressed you up against the wall, his plastron against your back and your behind gracing his cloaca ever so slightly.

“This”, Mikey whispered against your ear, brushing his cloaca closer against you. “And ask you what you were doing down here”.

“And if I wouldn’t tell you?”, you asked, acting innocent.

Using his right foot, Mikey pushed your legs apart, pressing his knee between them to keep them apart.

“So”, Mikey said, a smile in his voice as he continued your little roleplay in a light hearted manner. “What are you doing in the sewer?” You chuckled, trying to buckle back against him, hoping to gain some friction, but instead Mikey pushed you hip forward to the brick wall once again, causing you to moan in frustration and enjoyment.

“Oh, so that’s why”, Mikey said, acting surprised, before he let his lips brush against your ear. “You wanted more after I threw you and the others around up there?”

The wetness in your panties grew further as Mikey spoke, causing your breathing to become heavier as you now tried to gain some friction against the brick wall, a smirk growing on your lip as you came up with an answer.

“Do you call that throwing around?”

One of Mikey’s hands let go of your arm, grabbing on to your neck as he tilted your face towards him, revealing an expression that tried to look tougher than he actually was, the curves at the corner of his lips revealing that he was only acting, having fun with this little play the two of you had going on.

“So you do want more?”, he smiled, his thumb stroking the side of your jaw. “Then I’m gonna give you more”.

Mikey’s lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue licking your lower lip asking for entrance. You chuckled and opened your mouth, letting him in. Mikey was adorable. Even while acting like he was a real tough one taming a naughty Purple Dragon, he still asked you for permission before sticking his tongue into your mouth.

As your tongues moved together, Mikey let go of the other hand on your back, before reaching down to the button of your jeans, opening it with one hand before pulling down the zipper. This string hand then slides down into your paintes, before reaching your slick folds with his three thick fingers.

“Damn”, Mikey said, making you smile once again, fighting not to giggle out loud at his words. “So wet from a small fight. What a naughty girl. Getting turned on by a ninja turtle. What would the Dragons say if they knew?”

“There’s only one way to find out”, you smiled, grinding your still clothed ass up against Mikey’s cloaca.

Breaking character, Mikey placed a firm kiss on your lips before looking into your eyes with a smile. “You make me a happy man, (Y/N)”, he said, before he let a finger enter your slick entrance. This caused you to let out a moan as his thick finger worked its way in and out of you.

You let your head fall back against Mikey’s shoulder, sighing in delight as his soft lips started kissing your neck. And once again, you had a comment ready.

“I thought you said you would throw me around”, you said, your voice heavy with deep breathing.

Mikey chuckled, kissing you once again, partly going into character once again. “I like cute and impatient”.

With that Mikey retracted his hand from your underwear, causing you to feel empty. But then he suddenly grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder. You yelped, holding onto Mikey’s shoulder and shell, as he held on to your hip, before pulling your jeans down your legs. You laughed at his creativity, but quickly tried to cover it up with weak protests. Mikey instantly caught on, giving your ass a playful slap before pulling on your underwear.

“You wanted to be thrown around, Dragon princess, so I’m going to throw you around!”, he said, throwing your pants and underwear to the side, making sure they stayed at a dry place. He then moved you so that you were sitting on him with his shoulder between your legs, before throwing your other leg over his other shoulder, causing you dripping flower to be right in his face, his hands supporting your ass as he held you up with nothing but his shoulders and hands.

“Holy shit, Mikey”, you gasped, holding on to his head, pushing him closer to your center.

Mikey chuckled, looking up at you, his eyes locking with yours. “I told you, didn’t I?” He then pulled you forward, licking a long firm line through your folds. You gasped and pushed Mikey further against you, his tongue circling your clit before moving to your entrance. You moaned out loud as his wet muscle slided into you, your voice echoing against the brick walls of the sewer. The sounds Mikey pulled from you as his tongue worked on you were lewd, and the wet sounds made you feel dirty in a delighted way. Only the way Mikey could make you feel.

Your legs curled up around Mikey’s shell, your hells pressing into the hard curve, your fingernails digging into the skin of Mikey’s head as he brought you closer and closer to your climax, every sound and hum he made against you shivers through your spine, pushing you closer each time. There you sat on Mikey’s shoulder, high above the ground held up by nothing but Mikey, feeling your orgasm inch closer by the second.

You came with a loud moan, holding onto Mikey’s head for dear life as he licked up all of your juices, helping you ride out your orgasm.

Once you had gotten down just a little bit from you high, Mikey let you slide down his plastron, still with your legs over his shoulders, your now sensitive cunt lined up with his cloaca. Pressing your back up against the wall, you and Mikey’s lips meet in another hungry kiss, your hands pulling him closer by the neck.

“You haven’t had enough yet, have you?”, Mikey smiled as he pulled from the kiss, already knowing the answer.

“Of course I haven’t”, you answered, once again dipping into your loose roleplay. “A Dragon never gives up”.

“I’m going to make you regret that statement”, Mikey said, once again acting though with the corners of his mouth betraying him.

Grinding against you, it didn’t take long before Mikey dropped into you, his thick size stretching you out now like it did every time, not matter how many times he fucked you to heaven and back. You clung to Mikey’s shoulders as he pushed himself all the way into you, resting there for a moment before he pulled out, only to push himself back into you, drawing more moans from you.

“Oh, fuck! Mikey!”, you called out, his spongy head reaching the sweet spot inside of you, forgetting all about the playful roleplay.

Mikey adjusted his hold on you and your legs over his shoulder, pressing you further into a mating press up against the wall, increasing his speed as he thrusted into you, groaning and moaning in pleasure.

“You feel so good, (Y/N)”, he moaned, resting his forehead against yours, taking in all of your sounds as you cried out for him. It didn’t take long before you started to close in around him, letting Mikey know that your second orgasm wasn’t long away.

The sound of your skin slapping against each other echoed against the walls of the round walled sewer, along with your many sounds of pleasure, only getting louder and louder. Mikey took a firm grasp on your hips, before pistoning into you, feeling his own high getting closer and your walls tightened around him.

“Mikey!”, you cried out, feeling yourself on the edge. “I’m about to… Fuck! I’m about to!”

“Do it”, Mikey said in a raspy voice. “I’m right behind you”.

And then, with a few more hard and fast thrusts, you came around Mikey with a loud cry of pleasure, followed by him unloading himself into you, continuously pumping into you, riding out both of your climaxes.

Once both of you had calmed down enough, Mikey pulled out of you, helping you down on the ground, chuckling to himself as he saw your legs wobble. He handed you your pants and underwear, helping you get them on when your legs started to ache.

“It’s probably a good idea for us to head back to the lair”, Mikey said, throwing a look over his shoulder, in the direction his brothers had gone. “Before they come and look for us”.

“Then you’ll probably have to carry me”, you said, trying to move your aching legs, causing Mikey to laugh.

“I’ve been carrying you through two orgasm”, Mikey said bluntly with a big smile, finding his effect on your legs hilarious, along with giving him a big confidence boost.

“It’s all that throwing around”, you teased. “It made the knees of the hidden Purple Dragon in me weak”.

Mikey threw his head back in a laughter, pulling you close to him. “Still into the Purple Dragon roleplay? Well, in that case I guess I have to teach you another lesson, preferably with a bed”.

And with that Mikey picked up in a bride style, both of you laughing and smiling, continuing your playful banter as he carried you to the lair.

[v1olent-l1ttle-th1ng]

Weekly Empyrean/Onyx Storm Theories Week 7: “It’s yours now”

I think enough people have theorized at this point that Xaden was not talking about Tyrrendor in his note, but about his soul. We know that Tyrrendor is referred to as ‘she’ throughout the whole book, so the soul thing makes sense. This theory isn’t so much about that necessarily but more about what I hinted at in my last post, and how Violet physically has the last part of Xaden’s soul.

The epigraph at the beginning of chapter 62 states “There is no goddess more wrathful than Dunne. Entering Her temple will slice the soul from any attendant who has shunned Her Grace.” I think that’s what happened when they got married. They’re married in Dunne’s temple, and I think Xaden tied his soul to the emerald ring he gave Violet and that’s what he means is hers. That tiny little piece of his soul that’s still ‘him’. In his chapter in the book, when he’s giving in to the darkness, “the last remaining pieces of him” beg him to “save them”. Them being “the people she loves.” Then, when Violet says, “I love you” into the bond, it’s described as “a silken thread of warmth”. Xaden “grabs for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away. She is warmth and light and air and love.” He then goes on to tell us. “I love her. That is the emotion I cling to, the fire of pure power burning at the feeling’s edges, and I know if I take it any further, it will be the next and final piece to float away.” So he obviously keeps that one final part of his soul, and in putting it in that ring, gives ‘it’ to Violet to keep safe. His soul gets sliced away from him in Dunne’s temple, because he’s shunned her by being venin. I think we might get a Rhysand situation where Xaden ‘dies’ but then Violet can use that little piece of soul to bring him back.

We can also assume that in chapter 6 when Xaden makes Violet promise to “look after it”, he’s talking about his soul here too. At the time we assume ‘it’ is Tyrrendor, as he was just given his title back.

Another thing that’s mentioned several times in FW, IF, and OS is the classic “You’re going to be the death of me” line. Everyone’s worried about him actually dying, but what if this ties into the whole soul thing. The irids tell us “The power exchange kills the soul one piece at a time, and death has no cure.” She quite literally was the death of his soul. And, following this theory, got the last piece of it in the ring. So maybe that’s what that classic line has been telling us.

This is veering a little, but I think it’s still relevant. There’s a conversation in Onyx Storm when Xaden asks Violet, “You promised to help me protect Tyrrendor, remember?” To which Violet responds, “I remember.” I think the whole ‘remember’ thing is meant to be used ironically. I think, in the two weeks that passes in between the prologue and chapter one, Xaden and Violet have a totally different conversation about what’s actually going to happen to him. During this conversation I think he makes her promise something about looking after his soul, but then Imogen erases that memory. Then, he gives her something new to promise to protect (Tyrrendor) when in reality it’s been his soul all along.

Similar idea to the whole soul thing but not directly related, Theophenie said something about losing her power if she went back to Dunne’s temple. She states, “Do you know the pain of never being allowed to return, of knowing that it would sever the very thing that’s kept me untouchable all these years?” Does this mean Xaden could lose his power if he dedicates himself to Dunne?? Or something like this. I think this somehow ties back to the whole soul thing too.

Some more foreshadowing for the whole ‘soul in the ring’ theory. Xaden literally tells Violet, “I mean it when I say you own my soul”.

More soul thoughts that’s don’t really play into this theory specifically. They’re just more times when ‘soul’ was mentioned that I feel like are gonna be important:

-“For both war and love change souls irrevocably” This epigraph seems super important!! Again, I’m not quite sure for what yet, but it’s definitely telling us something.

-Aaric tells Violet, “You have to protect Dunne’s temple. It’s how you save Tyrrendor” right before they go off to fight the wyvern that crossed into Aretian airspace. Then Violet and Xaden got married at Dunne’s temple, allowing Tyrrendor to be saved. Xaden’s soul was cleaved, meaning he can one day be saved, ergo Tyrrendor is also saved.

-When Xaden and Violet are having sexy time in Deverelli, she describes Xaden as kissing her “like he’s searching for his own soul”.

Anyways, there’s a ton of thoughts in here, but I tried to make it as precise as possible!

[wisteriaw0rld]

Hello there :) please could I request headcanons of the Hantengu clones, Akaza, Douma and Kokushibo starting to develop feelings for a fellow upper moon demon who has the same abilities as nezuko, is sweet and shy normally but when angered or friends are threatened she goes berserk 💙💙💙

-ˋˏ ༻falling for you༺ ˎˊ- kny x reader

✰synopsis: uppermoon’s 1-4 taking a liking to a fellow uppermoon with kamado nezuko’s powers

✰additional tags: gn! reader, headcanons, mentions of blood, mentions of death/killing, not proof read

✰character order: kokushibo, douma, akaza, sekido, karaku, aizetsu, urogi

“yeah my boyfriends pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me.” -Lana Del Rey

˚ʚuppermoon oneɞ˚

❥kokushibo isn’t one to easily think highly of others. Considering he’s the strongest demon and only second to Kibutsuji, he never pays attention to other demons’ abilities. They never piqued his interest. Then you came along as a new Upper Moon.

♡it was obvious you had potential. Soon enough you rose, gaining the title of upper moon three. It had shocked him of how quickly you rose up the ranks.

♡because of how stoic kokushibo naturally is, it’s obvious he favors you over the other upper moons. They don’t mind. They only find it shocking.

♡when he first took a small liking towards you, he assumed it was only due to your powerful aura. you’re powers catch  him buy surprise but he’ll never admit it.

♡soon after he realized it wasn’t just respect he had for you, even if you were ranked lower than him. 

♡he’d never admit it aloud but he knows he’s developed a crush on you. He’s eternally grateful he’s good at keeping his ‘little’ crush a secret.

♡however his liking to you grows stronger after getting put on a mission with you.

♡kokushibo has little care for putting effort into slaughtering demon slayers. They’re strength and skills are nothing compared to his.

♡he noticed you were the same way. But he also noticed how you would grow slightly angered whenever one of the demon slayers got too close to him.

♡curiously, he allowed a demon slayer to land a single medium-sized cut on his abdomen.

♡despite the cut not being anything for a demon, he saw how angered you got. 

♡the way you lunged forward and mercilessly killed the demon slayer was enough to prove how protective you could grow.

♡needless to say, his feelings only grow stronger.

˚ʚuppermoon twoɞ˚

❥Douma always has a playful demeanor. And after he met you, he had only joked about your strength, not taking it seriously. His passive aggressive comments immediately disappear when you take his place as the new upper moon two, making him upper moon three. oops

♡Douma became aggravated at this. But that quickly turns into admiration as he soon learns more about you. 

♡he without a doubt prefers you over the other upper moons, and he, for one, is not afraid to show it. Not like the others care.

♡douma’s admiration can so easily and so quickly turn into love for you. With not having a complete understanding about feelings, he doesn’t even know he loves you.

♡douma’s also much more attracted to your kind persona. He’s not exactly used to others presenting that much kindness to him.

♡your shyness is easily another thing he loves. He especially enjoys teasing you about it.

♡however he’s seen how you can get when provoked. It’s shocking that when something happens to you, you don’t get angered much.

♡but when something happens to your friends, that’s a whole different story.

♡you had fought by douma’s side against a large group of Kinoe ranked demon slayers. (highest rank)

♡you don’t remember much of what happened. The two of you had been easily slaughtering the demon slayers.

♡that was until Douma carelessly let his hand get cut off, as another began aiming for his neck.

♡completely abandoning who you were fighting with, you ran over, killing the slayers in a fast motion with angered eyes.

♡if Douma wasn’t in love with you before, he definitely was now.

˚ʚuppermoon threeɞ˚

❥Akaza always respects the other upper moons except douma even if they do annoy him on multiple occasions. Then he met you. Not only had you gotten along well with each other but he was impressed by your abilities.

♡Akaza doesn’t often meet shy demons. Then he met you. And despite being such a high rank, you remained with a kind and shy personality.

♡it impressed him that despite being so strong you still treated others with kindness. Most demons simply choose to flaunt their strength.

♡it only shocks him more when realizing the full strength hidden in you.

♡He knew you were strong considering your place in the twelve Kizuki. But he had never seen your true potential.

♡but with being so kind, who knew you’d have so much strength to you. 

♡of course he knows about your strength. But he‘s never chosen to look into it.

♡that was until he encountered you while you had been busy fending off a few demon slayers. They were lowly ranked. And it was obvious you were toying with them.

♡but you had stopped the moment you saw one of them heading for akaza, who was admiring you from afar

♡you had quickly killed all of them in a quick second before beginning to mumble about how annoying they are.

♡yeah, now he’s head over heels in love.

˚ʚuppermoon four, angerɞ˚

❥Sekido isn’t used to kindness. More so when it comes from demons. And he’s not precisely fond of it either. Then again, he’s not fond of anything. When Sekido met you, he was quick to assume your kindness was a sign of weakness. Your shyness only adding on to this said “weakness.”

♡he also will not accept you’re kindness. It’s not that he gets embarrassed. It just makes him feel weak in a way.

♡Sekido will likely take a while to get used to you. A long while, at that. And in the beginning of knowing you, he definitely won’t like you. He’ll hate you if anything.

♡he’ll constantly make snarky remarks, saying that your probably just weak and don’t deserve the title of an upper moon.

♡oh, he is so quickly proved wrong. But he’ll never admit to anyone that he was wrong and he’ll just continue calling you weak, even when he knows about your strength.

♡the other clones obviously tease him about how wrong he was about you. But even they’re shocked at certain times.

♡sekido does at times think it’s weird that you only show your full potential when those you know are threatened, but he never questions it.

♡in fact, he sometimes thinks it’s nice. What? Who said that? Not me..

˚ʚuppermoon four, pleasureɞ˚

❥karaku doesn’t exactly care about your strength. That is, until he see’s it himself. He already knows you’re strong since you’ve gained the title of upper moon. But he doesn’t care about how strong you exactly are. He mainly focuses are you sweetness.

♡it’s unusual and intriguing that a demon of all creatures can be so kind and so shy.

♡so in response, he wastes absolutely no time teasing you about it. He just enjoys seeing your reactions.

♡he doesn’t exactly mean to underestimate you, but the aura you give off, he just can’t imagine you as someone that’s completely capable of mercilessly killing someone.

♡karaku later learns he doesn’t need to imagine it. He see’s it first hand.

♡he had joined for a little snack. Which meant terrorizing a village nearby.

♡the two of you didn’t know a small group of demon slayers had been residing there that night.

♡karaku enjoys playing around with the slayers before he actually kills them. And in the middle of teasing a helpless slayer on the ground, he didn’t react fast enough to realize that one had been coming up from behind.

♡the sword didn’t even make it halfway through his neck as you rushed over, tackling the slayer to the floor angrily as a small amount of blood splattered on the floor.

♡he thought you were simply assisting him.

♡until he realized you only ever got so harsh when he was threatened. You hardly even acted like that when you were threaten.

♡all in all, he found a new thing to tease you about.

˚ʚuppermoon four, sadnessɞ˚

❥aizetsu adores your kindness more than anything. You hardly ever see things like that coming from such vile creatures. And seeing it come from you easily gets him clingy towards you. He admires that despite being an upper moon, you don’t seem power-hungry. He see’s that you care about others. And he loves that.

♡he quickly notices that you’re not easily provoked. He see’s it as interesting.

♡he also finds himself interested in your strength. He can sense your strength but has never seen it for himself.

♡despite being intrigued, he’s never asked you personally. He overthinks and is quick to assume you’ll get a bit mad if he asks. Even if you have no reason to.

♡Aizetsu always manages to push his curiosity to the side and simply acknowledges how comfortable it is to be around you.

♡be never really had anybody that sympathizes with him or at least takes time to comfort him.

♡so when you came along, he found himself get attached to you.

♡it became an attachment that sooner or later turned into a crush on you.

♡he’s clinginess also means he’ll definitely follow you around whenever you have missions. It’s not like you mind it though.

♡when he eventually learns about your anger when others are harmed, he immediately finds it fascinating.

♡it showed that even when you acted harshly towards demon slayers, it was your kindness towards your friends that was acting in play.

♡he’s so in love with you.

˚ʚuppermoon four, happinessɞ˚

❥urogi is another one that totally wastes no time teasing you for your kindness, when in reality he loves it. He understands that you’re shy so whenever you open up and show your excitement to hang out with him, he gets butterflies in his stomach.

♡all of the other demons and upper moons struggle to match his energy. All except karaku but even then, it gets a little boring sometimes.

♡urogi understands your shyness, maybe not 100%, not even 60%, but hey, at least he has a small understanding.

♡and for that he gets so excited and happy when you break out of your shell and match his energy.

♡sometimes your not the best at it, but he knows your trying.

♡but it doesn’t take long until you open up to him. He treats you nicely so of course it wouldn’t take long.

♡your sweet persona is another thing about you he loves. To him, Sekido’s always rude, Aizetsu’s always a mood killer, and Karaku is… well, Karaku.

♡so a sugar sweet personality such as yours feels like a big change. A really really good change.

♡urogi doesn’t pay much attention to the strength you hold, but it does catch his eye when your quick to become protective during battle.

♡it impresses him, actually. How all your senses heighten and your suddenly 10x stronger when something happens to him.

♡it almost seems like his skills are nothing compared to yours when the slightest threat towards him is made.

i’m too lazy to do my little Taisho rumors/secrets💙

[fanfictionalraven]

Dream Warriors Chapter 5

Title: Dream Warriors Chapter 5

Summary: Things begin to get more clear for the reader, in more ways than one.

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other original characters, other SPN characters

Word Count: 3,172

Warnings: Infidelity, a car crash?

Author’s Note: Let me know what you think!! Enjoy!!

Read Chapter 4 here.

It was still too early, around 4:00 in the morning. You knew Dean wasn’t going to be up for another couple of hours so you stay in the bed and consider a few things. You think about the previous night’s events, the moment you’d shared with Dean. He did know you, better than anyone. You think about the dream where you’d made love to Dean once again. Everything was suddenly so clear you begin to wonder how you’d ever missed it. Your decision was already made as you climb out of the bed.

Quickly and quietly, you move about the room, getting dressed. You slip into your own jeans and a tank top before going into Dean’s closet. You find your favorite of his flannels and pull it on, knowing Dean won’t mind. In fact, you already knew he loved seeing you in his clothes. He’d said so, after all.

Tiptoeing through the hall past the guest room Dean was sound asleep in, you move into the kitchen. Coffee is the first thing you start about, making a whole pot so that Dean can have some as well when he gets up. You reach into his cabinet and pull down what you know is his favorite mug. World’s Best Godfather. You’d gotten it for him shortly after Ella had been born. You run your fingers over the lettering and bite your lip before setting it on the counter next to the coffee maker.

After finding a decent sized travel mug, you fill it up and set it aside to cool off just enough. You find a notepad and pen before writing out a quick note to Dean.

I’ll be back this afternoon with Ella. Have a good day! Y/N

You leave the note under the edge of his mug before starting for the door. It was still early but you knew one particular early bird who would be up and ready to listen to you. You make the short drive to your parents’ house and, sure enough, the porch and kitchen lights are already on. Your mother was always up before the sun, a trait you didn’t normally share.

Making your way up to the door, you decide that knocking would probably scare her less than just walking in at this hour, so you rap at the door gently, just loud enough for her to hear. A moment later, you can see your mother peeking through the window of the door. It opens and she smiles at you warmly.

“Ready to talk?” She asks. You let out a small laugh and nod your head in response. She opens the door completely, allowing you in. The two of you move into the kitchen together. “Hungry? She asks.

“No thanks,” you tell her as you take a seat at the counter. She pulls herself onto the stool next to you and waits patiently for you to begin. You look at your hands, realizing for the first time that you hadn’t bothered to put on your rings this morning. “I’m leaving Jackson.”

“Why?” She asks. You look at her, confused. That wasn’t the jubilant cheer you’d expected. Her face is emotionless, impossible for you to read.

“He’s been having an affair with one of his students,” you tell her. A laugh breaks from her and you stare at her, even more confused. She wasn’t reacting at all like you’d expect.

“He’s been having an affair and Dean’s let him live this long?” She asks. You smile a little and shrug.

“I think he realizes he couldn’t take care of us from prison too well,” you joke. That earns another laugh and your smile grows a little more. Your mother’s hand reaches over, clasping yours.

“You’re handling this well,” she says. You shake your head, looking down at your hands in hers.

“I didn’t at first. I blamed myself, thought I wasn’t good enough for him or that I had done something wrong. But last night, with Dean…and then I had this dream…” You trail off and look back up at your mother now. “I don’t love Jackson like I thought I did. Honestly, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to remember why I even married him.” She smiles a little sadly and reaches up, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“You did love him. I saw that. But something changed. Before you were even married, you didn’t look at him the same way. Of course, you never looked at him the way you look at…” She stops and bites her lip.

“Dean,” you finish for her, nodding. “It’s always been Dean. I can’t believe I was too stupid to realize it.”

“Stupid’s a strong word,” she says, touching your cheek gently. You laugh a little and shrug. A cry from upstairs draws your attention and you break into a wide smile.

“I’ll get her,” you tell your mother before rising to your feet. You make your way up the stairs and to your old bedroom that had been converted back into a nursery after your brother’s son was born. Ella’s standing up in the crib, reaching for you when you walk through the door.

You take your daughter into your arms and hold her to you, swaying back and forth slowly. After calming down, she looks up at you and giggles, her hand coming to rest on your cheek. You press a kiss to her tiny palm as you take in those beautiful green eyes, shining up at you. The two of you go back down to the kitchen where your mother is still waiting. While you were gone, she fixed some baby cereal for Ella. You return to your stool and set her in your lap, feeding her breakfast to her.

“Can I make a confession?” You ask, looking up at your mother. She laughs and nods, running a hand over Ella’s soft curls. “You remember when Jackson and I had that huge fight and I called off the wedding?”

“Only to put the whole thing back on a week later? Rings a bell,” she teases. You nod and look down at Ella.

“Well…the night of the fight…I ended up at Dean’s,” you tell her. You glance up at her, a blush creeping into your cheeks. Her eyes widen in realization.

“Oh. I see. And you still went back to Jackson?” She asks. You sigh and shrug your shoulders.

“He went back to Lisa. I just thought…we agreed it was a one-time thing, ya know?” You tell her, wiping some stray cereal from Ella’s cheek. Your mother nods and smiles at Ella widely when she looks up at her grandmother, giggling. It only takes a moment for the next realization to hit her with a gasp.

“Ella…” She says, causing you both to look at her. You bite your lip and nod. “I always thought she favored him.” Ella giggles and slaps at the counter joyously. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Jackson was always so meticulously careful. I almost wasn’t sure he’d believe me when I told him,” you say. Your mother frowns and nods as she processes this new information.

“Why lie to him? Why not be with Dean?” She asks. You sigh and shake your head slightly.

“By the time I found out, he was with Lisa again,” you explain. She rises from her stool and makes her way around the counter to begin cooking breakfast.

“Does Dean know?” She asks, pulling some eggs from the fridge. You feed another spoonful of cereal to Ella.

“I think he suspects. Maybe even hopes. But I haven’t told him,” you tell her. “I think I will tonight.”

“He’ll be over the moon. To have both of you,” she says, smiling over at you widely. You bite your lip, nervously.

“I hope so,” you say. Your mother laughs at that and shakes her head.

“That boy has been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” she says. You can’t help the blush that creeps into your cheeks as you look down at Ella again.

“Okay. Can you keep her for a few more hours? I’m gonna go see a lawyer and Jackson. Then I’ll pick her up and take her to Dean’s with me,” you explain. Your mother nods as she lays some bacon out on a pan.

After giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, you set Ella in the playpen in the corner of the room and leave the house. There’s still some time to kill before any lawyer is going to be in their office so you decide to head to the house instead. You mentally prepare yourself to confront Jackson, however, upon arriving you discover that his car isn’t at the house. You check your phone for the first time and find a text from him, something had come up and he’d had to pull an all-nighter at the office.

Rolling your eyes, you make your way into the house. You spend the next few hours packing yours and Ella’s things into plastic crates you find in the attic. After you get as much as you can loaded into your car, you drive across town to the office for a lawyer you remembered a friend using in her divorce. You explain the situation to her and she agrees to help you. You leave her office and drive straight to the campus to deliver the news to Jackson personally. You park your car in the small lot and stare at the building in front of you.

“Just march in there and tell him,” you tell yourself before getting out of the car. Your march becomes more confident as you get closer to his office. You pause outside his door when you hear a distinctly female giggle before bursting into the room.

Chrissy, the gorgeous blonde from the texts, is sat on his desk, her shirt open and hanging off her shoulders. Jackson stands between her knees sucking a fairly substantial hickey onto her neck. They both jump and Jackson falls into his chair at the sight of you. Chrissy slowly pulls her shirt back on, eyeing you cautiously.

“Y/N,” Jackson says, standing from his chair. You shake your head and hold up a hand.

“Chrissy, isn’t it?” You ask, looking at the younger girl. Her eyes widen and she nods slightly. You give her a patient smile. “Would you mind giving me a minute with my husband?” She glances at Jackson once before picking her bag up and leaving the office quickly.

“Let me explain,” Jackson says, taking a cautious step forward. You let out a laugh and shake your head.

“There’s nothing to explain, Jackson. I’ve already packed mine and Ella’s things. We’re going to stay with Dean. You should be hearing from my lawyer soon,” you tell him. He nods slightly and you stare at him, incredulously. “You aren’t even going to fight to keep us, are you?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “This just…this isn’t what I wanted. What I thought I was getting. I never wanted kids for one thing.” His words wash over you and, while you had remained calm to this point, the anger begins to build instantly.

“You’re blaming this on Ella?” You ask, your voice strained. He shrugs his shoulders again. You nod and glance around the office. There wasn’t a single picture of you or her to be seen. “Well…good thing she isn’t yours then,” you snap. His eyes widen immediately.

“I knew it!! I knew you slept with him!!” He shouts, almost victoriously. “I hope you weren’t expecting child support.” You roll your eyes, turning for the door.

“I’m not. Don’t worry. Her real father, the one actually loves her, will take care of her,” you tell him before closing the door behind you. You run your hands over your face as you make your way back out to the car. Your phone rings in your back pocket and you pull it out. Dean. You can’t help but smile as you put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Gorgeous! Hadn’t heard from you all morning, except for your note. Wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says. You can hear the concern in his voice as you climb in to the driver’s seat of your car.

“I’m great. I talked to Mom. Talked to a lawyer. Caught Jackson in the act in his office,” you tell him, turning the key in the ignition.

“You caught him?? With the girl?? Do I need to help you hide the bodies?” He asks. You laugh and shake your head as you back out of the parking lot.

“No. I didn’t kill them, don’t worry. He tried to blame Ella though,” you say. Dean’s quiet for a moment and you instantly regret telling him that.

“He did what?” He asks, flatly. You sigh as you pull onto the main road.

“He blamed his cheating on the fact that he never wanted kids. I told him it was…” You stop and bite your lip. “Wasn’t her fault.”

“Damn straight it’s not her fault. Or your fault. He better hope we don’t run into each other,” he says, anger in his words. You smile a little and shake your head.

“It’s fine, Dean. It’s over. I don’t even want anything from him. Alimony or child support…nothing. As long as he just signs the papers, I couldn’t care less,” you tell him. There’s another pause on the other end of the line before Dean speaks again.

“So, you and Ella are both staying tonight?” He asks. You could swear you heard a hopeful note in his voice, and you laugh lightly.

“We are. If that’s okay,” you say. You can practically see him rolling his eyes.

“Of course. You two can stay as long as you want,” he says. “You can share my bed. I’ll stay in the guest room again.”

“We’ll discuss sleeping arrangements later,” you tell him. A rush of exhaustion washes over you and you shake your head quickly to stay awake.

“Oh?” He asks, that hopeful note back. You blink a few times to refocus on the road.

“Y/N,” Dean’s voice says. But it doesn’t come from the phone. It seems to come from somewhere further away.

“Oh no,” you mumble, feeling your eye lids grow heavy. “No, no, no.”

“Y/N,” Dean says again. This time you aren’t sure which Dean says it, the one from the phone or the one from your dream. Your head slumps forward.

Everything happens so fast.

You bolt upright in the motel bed, still naked under the sheets. Dean’s standing at the edge of the bed, a bit bloody from the hunt but smiling.

“Case closed,” he says, dusting off his jacket. You stare at him and his face falls slowly as you feel something warn on your head. “Y/N?” He asks. You reach up and press your fingers to your forehead. When you pull them away, you find them covered in blood. “Sam!!” Dean calls out, rushing to your side. You let out a blood-curdling scream as pain shoots through various points in your body; your head, your ribs, your left leg. You fall into Dean’s arms as you slip out of consciousness.

For the first time in a long time, everything goes completely dark. You can feel the pain from your injuries but it isn’t as bad. In the distance, you can hear several sounds breaking through the darkness. They’re all muddled and you can barely make them out. Dean’s voice, frantically calling your name. Sam’s voice, asking questions. Another voice, a woman you don’t recognize shouting orders. There are other sounds, background noises, machines going crazy.

As soon as it starts, everything stops again. The sounds die down except for one. The steady rhythm of a heart monitor. You slowly manage to open your eyes and take in the room you’re in now. A hospital room, plainly decorated. You’re by yourself, none of the people you’d heard speaking previously are there.

The door to your room opens and you look over quickly to find Dean, relief clear on his face when he sees you.

“Thank God. I was worried sick,” he says. “She’s awake,” he calls out to someone in the hall. He sighs as he steps into the room, rushing to your side. You nod slightly, trying to think, trying to remember. Which you are you?

“What happened?” You ask, trying to clear things up. Dean sighs and shrugs.

“You fell asleep behind the wheel. Ran off into a ditch. You’ve got a concussion, few broken ribs, and a pretty nasty gash in your leg,” he says. Behind the wheel.

Just then, the door opens again. People begin to file into the room. Your parents with Ella, Dean’s parents, Sam and Jessica, and a woman who seems vaguely familiar but out of place. She’s petite and blonde with green and blue streaks in her hair. She comes to Dean’s side, wrapping her arms around one of his.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, smiling down at her. She smiles back at him and nods before looking over at you.

“How are you feeling?” The strange woman asks. You shake your head slightly, trying to place where you know her from.

“Confused, I guess. Head hurts a bit,” you tell him. A hand comes to rest on your forearm and you look over at Sam, Jessica’s hand held tightly in his own.

“That’s the concussion, I’m sure,” he says. You nod and look over as the doctor comes into the room.

“Alright, let’s give her some room to breathe,” he announces. “Let me look her over and you can come back in. A few at a time.” Everyone gives you a worried smile before starting to file back out of the room. The woman turns to Dean and kisses his cheek.

“I have to get back to work,” she tells him. He nods and watches as she leaves the room. You frown slightly, looking between them, then reach out and catch Dean’s hand.

“Who was that?” You ask when he looks back at you. He frowns as he takes a step back, squeezing your hand.

“It hasn’t been that long, Sweetheart,” he says. You frown at him. “I mean, she was your best friend for years.”

“Dean,” you say, shaking your head.

“That was Lisa, Y/N,” he says. You stare at him in disbelief, trying to reconcile this Lisa with the one in your mind. You recalled Lisa as a tall, brunette not a short blonde with colorful streaks.

It hits you like a flash of lightening. Memories of Dean and Lisa. When he’d gone back to see her and found out about Ben. Ben. Her son. Dean had lived with them for a year while he thought Sam was gone. Sam had been in Hell.

Hell…not Stanford.

Hell is real. Demons are real. Monsters are real.

This isn’t real. And you know exactly who’s behind it all.

Read Chapter 6 here.

Forever Tags: @roseblue373

Jensen Tags: @call-me-mrs-winchester

Dream Warriors: @aylacavebear @winharry @djs8891 @suckitands33 @rickgrimeswifeu @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @alisyacsa @cutiesarah @urinternetmom @justrealizedimmascifygurl @kr804573 @thej2report @just-levyy @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @demons-eats-pie-too @brightlilith

[lovesickonmybed]

Maybe since Ellie has been trying to get help for her toxic tendencies, what would be readers reaction to her doing something nice for the first time?

I think Ellie would always do nice stuff for reader but I think the first time reader would see that Ellie is changing for the better they’d be out together at the local video store looking for some stuff to add to Ellies horror collection. 

You’re searching through the titles looking for something good when you spot it, a Criterion Collection copy of Dead Ringers. “Holy shit, weren’t we talking about this one last week?” You exclaim, holding the DVD up for Ellie to see. Her eyes go wide and she grabs you by the wrist to pull it closer and get a better look.

“Good find, babe. You know I love Cronenberg, even if you think his stuff is gross,” she chuckles, grabbing the copy from your hands and putting it in her basket.

“Not everyone can handle body horror like you, El,” you roll your eyes.

“You’ll learn to love it…just like you learned to love my wedgies,” she teases, playfully reaching for your waist. You squeal and let yourself fall into her as she wraps her arm around your waist, she kisses your cheek and smiles at you.

“Can you guys get a room, jesus christ, some of us are trying to shop here!” Snarks the most film bro looking film bro you’ve ever seen in your life, he’s even wearing an A24 baseball cap. The old Ellie would’ve gotten up in his face, threatened him, made him fuck off for sure. But the new Ellie, the Ellie who tries to keep her anger under control, takes a deep breath before turning to face the man. 

“Sorry, honeymoon phase, y’know. I just can’t help how cute my girl is. The dramas are two aisles over by the way, bud.” She allows herself one snarky comment, keeping it playful. 

“I was actually looking for Men, the Alex Garland movie, so I’m in the right section, but thanks.”

You and Ellie have to turn away to try and contain your laughter, you throw your arm around Ellies shoulder to whisper, “Of course he would wanna watch that pile of shit…”

Ellie snorts, “Be nice…you’re supposed to be my good example to look up to.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “You can look up at me later when you’re on your knees, okay?” You admittedly feel a little proud of yourself for that even if it is kind of corny.

Ellie is the one rolling her eyes this time, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be on their knees y’know?”

“Maybe I wanna see you from a different angle this time,” you say, pulling her closer and smirking.

“I’ll think about it on the way back to my place,” Ellie mumbles bashfully.

You two walk up to the counter with your picks, thanking some higher power for the video store having Criterion Collection films always be half off. You set them on the counter, Dead Ringers, Dogtooth, and Piggy being your picks for today. The cashier, a pretty girl with curly brown hair, rings up your picks and tells you the total, you reach for your wallet but Ellie is already handing the clerk enough cash to cover it. Ellie looks over at you and smiles, “I got it.”

You groan, “Those were gonna be gifts for you!”

“Maybe I wanted to gift them to myself,” she smiles.

“Ugh, Ellie! You should’ve let me pay!” You whine, giving the cashier a quick smile as you grab the bag and the receipt, heading for the door.

“You can pay me back after the movie tonight,” Ellie says, opening the door for you and slapping your ass as you walk ahead of her. Ellie admires her view of you as she follows you out to the car. She’s excited to tell her therapist about her progress at their next session.