#so in the three years i liked him. he was active for like 2 months total.

[youleftmenochoicebut]

Part two of gold rush where they get their cottage in whales please 🙏🏽

PEACE — regulus black.

SUMMARY. — you and Regulus live happily ever after. that's it.

PAIRING. — regulus black x fem!pureblood!reader

WARNINGS. — fluff, kinda au cause reg doesnt get the dark mark

A/N. — i didnt plan on doing a part 2 but oh well <3 anyways! heres part 1; this is so short im sorry!!!

war is over. as much as you can't believe it, it's true. Voldemort is dead, mostly thanks to Regulus' brother and his friends' actions, and to the Order's activity. it ended weeks ago.

meanwhile, you and your husband have been hiding here for the past three years, ever since graduating Hogwart's. you've been hiding, like cowards, and unfortunately you can't feel shame or embarrassment in that regard. at least you're alive, unlike some of your friends. Evan didn't make it, which led to Barty's psychotic break. Dorcas' girlfriend, Marlene and her family didn't make it, killed by Voldemort personally this summer. Peter, who turned out to be a traitor, didn't make it either. there are a lot more loses on both sides of the war, of course, but you try not to think about it much.

it's early morning when you sit on the edge of your shared bed, reading through the letter from Lily that your owl just delivered. you take in the latest news from London, a small smile on your face. Lily's pregnant again, Sirius and Remus moved in together into Grimmauld Place, Mary's got a new cat. it all seems so mundane, after months and months of bad information, you shake your head at it.

you place the letter on your nightstand, then settle back to bed, turning around to find Regulus staring at you sleepily. your baby girl is still fast asleep in her crib by your bed.

"what's with the letter, huh?" Regulus rasps out, reaching his hand out to graze his fingers over your bare shoulder, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "is it Lily or Remus?"

"s'Lily. m'gonna write her back later after you read it." you murmur, careful to keep your voice down, and you sigh. "i have to feed Astra. can you make pancakes for breakfast?"

"sure." your husband nods, leans in to plant a quick peck on the bridge of your nose (he knows how much you despise morning breath), and gets up. as you watch him leave the bedroom you thank Merlin that he sleeps in only his boxers, and you can ogle his backside like a horny teenager as he walks away.

you roll onto your back, letting out a heavy breath, then glance at the crib just few feet from you, your four month old sucking on her dummy with her eyes already wide open.

almost forty-five minutes pass before you finally go downstairs. Astra is fed, changed and completely awake, swaddled in a baby wrap close to your chest. your steps are slow and deliberate as you make your way into the kitchen, where you are met with the sight of Regulus moving around the space, humming some tune under his breath whilst flipping pancakes. you stand in the doorway, just watching him happily before Astra betrays you with a bubbly shrieking laugh, her eyes focused on her daddy too.

"i'm almost done, ladies." your husband looks up at you, nodding you to come closer, and so you do. you lean back against the kitchen island, your hands resting under Astra's swaddled body, making sure she's held up alright. your baby keeps sending Regulus toothless smiles, cooing and babbling. she's been like this for only a few days after she hit a milestone.

you spend your days in peace like that. being a family. sometimes you go out for walks in the nearby woods, letting Astra nap in the fresh air. sometimes you sit in your garden, by the pond. sometimes you don't leave the house, lounging around all day and marvelling at the miracle your daughter was. today is one of these days. so domestic, most would deem boring. but that's what you love.

when you and Regulus go to bed that night, it's late. past midnight. you're certain Astra is starting teething, because she's been fussy ever since her afternoon nap. for now she's back asleep in her crib, although tossing and turning a bit, and you stare up at the ceiling mindlessly. you feel Regulus' hand creep over your body and resting on your hip, but you're too tired to even look at him now.

"ma chérie." he whispers, his thumb moving over your hip in soothing circles, and his other hand grips your chin lightly, turning your head in his direction. "hi."

"hi." you whisper back, nibbling on your lower lip as you stare into his grey eyes. you snuggle closer to him, your head resting on his chest and your arms wrap around his torso. "Merlin, you're always so cold."

Regulus snorts, and without looking up you know he's rolling his eyes, squeezing you in with his hands settling on your bum. you shiver at the feeling, reaching down to pull the covers over the two of you, and the moment you close your eyes a piercing wail sounds out from the crib. you practically jump out of bed, but Regulus brings you back down.

"stay. i'll go"

[inbabylontheywept]

the house i grew up in was a little bit of a fixer upper. for the first 19 years, my dad just sort of slowly fixed it, but pretty early on in college, he came into a large amount of cash and decided to just do the whole thing at once. so he rented a different house for like, 2 months that was just a block down from us, and then got a bunch of contractors to fix original house ASAP. it was kind of crazy, but it compressed many years of work into like, three months.

the sitting in a new house for three months was actually pretty fun. and i shouldnt really complain at all (staying at home while in college is a sweet deal)

but.

but. my parents are fairly hard of hearing, and their bedroom in the old house was in the furthest possible annex from everyone else. wheras in the rental it was just in the middle of the house. so without going into details, i was extremely aware that my parents were having sex like, eight times a day. my dad had just retired and i guess they were celebrating, which is great i guess, having parents that really like each other is way better than the alternative, but also, it did make me envy their deafness. i kept headphones on for so long that year i got literal ear calluses.

at the same time, the house my buddy from the shoe incident grew up in flooded. turbo flooded. they burst like, two pipes at once and the damage was so severe they had to redo all the flooring and all the drywall. his family actually had homeowners insurance, which is either incredible or suspicious for a family that used the drained pool in their backyard to store rusty scrap metal. so insurance was handling the work, but in the meantime, they were crammed into a very small hotel room space. we did the math on it then, it averaged about 80 square feet a person.

so one day i got home, and i was chilling, and then six rolled around, and apparently six o'clock was sex o'clock because my parents decided to flex their cardio. i grabbed my headphones and prayed that god would do for me what he did for beethoven, but that failed to work, and then seven rolled around and my parents were still at it, which again, very impressive, but was pushing me to swap out judas for mozart in those prayers. there's a definitive point where you stop praying to be deaf and instead pray that god could take you to a nice field and pop you like a gore-balloon.

i was about five minutes away from that point when my friend called me and basically said i have been stuck in a 500 square foot space with 6 people and i didn't have many marbles to start but what few i had are gone. please. if we are friends, if we were ever friends, take me out of here just for a moment.

and i was still pretty mad at him, but i had pity on the poor guy. also helped that i was desperate to leave the house. so i drove the chickenshitmobile to the hotel and i picked him up, and then we did our normal hangout activity, which was go to food city and buy produce. his normal house was, on a good day, nasty, and his backyard was, as i stated before, mostly used to store mosquito larvae and rusty metal, so what we'd always done before was just walk to the grocery store a half block away and leer at vegetables.

so we did that and it was like old times again. they had some radishes that were expired, so i could buy like, literally an entire grocery bag of them for about $5. so i did. i really like radishes. he got a coconut because he liked fruit and beating things with hammers.

which probably would've been great except we didn't have a hammer, so instead we spent about 30 minutes stomping itike it owed us money. when it finally cracked we cheered like we just got the winning touchball at the superdome and then he ate some of the flesh, and i ate some of the radishes, and we admired the black, starless sky of the city before i took him back to his hotel room.

and then we got pulled over.

i forgot to turn my lights on because the street all around the food city was ludicrously well lit. so it went from being pretty bright, to pretty bright and flashy, then i pulled into a parking lot and a cop came to ask us for IDs which is where everything went to shit:

i’d forgotten my license at home. 

the cop was was actually kind of chill about it - he said he could get by with just an address. except i did not know my address. i hadn't memorized the new one yet. so i told the cop, my house is getting remodeled, i don't know my address right now. and then he went to my friend, and my friend said the exact same thing. house getting remodeled, staying somewhere else, no address, sowwwwwwy.

now the cop genuinely didn't know what to do. he went back to his car, and i was stressed that i was about to get into HUGE trouble so i started eating the radishes and my buddy started eating more of his coconut, and we actually managed to eat like a quarter of both before the cop came back. we ate enough produce that he could smell something weird in the air, and he asked what the smell was, and i said radishes, and my buddy said coconut, and the cop said which, and then we produced a large bag of droopy radishes and an absolutely brutalized coconut, and the cop was just like

so my buddy tried explaining how he was sharing a 500 square foot apartment with 6 people and wanted a fruit he could fight with power tools, and i tried explaining how i'd actually tried buying my parents like, board games and puzzles and stuff but nothing worked - the only thing my parents seemed to like doing right now was each other, and we both went on long enough and pathetically enough that the cop eventually went:

ok. stop.

and we stopped.

and he said do you know why i pulled you over?

and i said, because of my headlights, and my friend (who is hispanic) and the cop both looked at me like like i was the dumbest person in the entire world. and then the cop said no. that's why i'm allowed to pull you over. i checked your car because this neighborhood has a terrible sex trafficking problem, and i pull over every car i can to make sure no one is buying or selling sex. and you two are obviously doing neither. now i could give you, like, four tickets right now, but that would do nothing to make this area safer, so just turn your lights on, go home, drive safe, and try to be less stupid in the future.

and i said okay but i was thinking, you know, damn, this is just how i live man, i don't have a hidden third gear i can shift into. people can't just get smarter because it would be convenient. it's always convenient to be smart. i am literally trying my best.

but i didn't say anything because i was, slowly, learning how to filter what i said. instead i nodded and the cop left then i dropped my buddy off, and the last thing he said was said he owed me for responding to his SOS. I said he owed me for a lot of things, and he agreed that was true. then i drove home with my lights on, 5 under the speed limit, and arrived to a peaceful quiet home. I could’ve wept with relief but instead I went to bed.

the relief was short lived. i was woken up at 6 am by my parents. i swore, and then i prayed, and when i did not explode, i swore again. then i got up to make breakfast before my first class.

[staryinghao]

林彦俊等你好久了 真的就这样吗

[teaboot]

OH FUCK YALL THOUGHT I WAS *ARMED GUARD*????

BRUHHHHHHHH

I'm the lowest level licensed security you can hire

I work foot patrol for shit like wet cement, construction sites, malls, libraries, outreach centers, and local events

My job is, essentially, human scarecrow

I am not permitted to carry a gun.

I am not permitted to carry a taser.

I am not permitted to carry pepper spray.

I am not permitted to carry a baton

I am not permitted to carry a knife or any multitool containing a knife

I don't have a plate vest

I'm not permitted to make any physical contact outside of administering first aid or in self defense, which must be made in minimal force required to ensure personal safety

I escort employees to make bank deposits, ask aggressive or violent people to leave, and take notes on safety hazards in patrolled areas

If someone bleeds, throws up, or takes a dump somewhere they shouldn't, it's between me and the custodian to make sure nobody slips in it bay bee

It is none of my business if someone is doing drugs. If they aren't an active danger to themselves or others then they're golden

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

If you're selling drugs in clear view I will ask that you please do that elsewhere, ideally with more discretion. End of interaction

If you are using drugs in clear view I will tell you *exactly* where the property ends so you can smoke your bong 3 feet outside of that line where I can't do shit if someone complains. End of interaction

Site Security is not police. It is not LPO. Someone could point you out as you run off the site and say "I saw him shove a microwave down his pants and walk out" and it would be approximately none of my business.

THINGS THAT ARE MY BUSINESS

Overdose in the bathroom. I will verbally check twice that you are conscious, and if I get no response I will warn that I am coming in to check on you. If I find you on the ground I will again try to speak to you, warn that I am touching your shoulder, and give you a jiggle. If I can't wake you up I roll you into recovery and wait for paramedics.

Threatening or harassing staff. You cannot make passes at the highschooler operating the pretzel stand. You cannot tell the bank teller you'll "track him down eventually". The lady at the nail salon said she didn't want to marry you six times now and now I'm your problem

Abuse, endangerment, or neglect. If you leave your baby on the sidewalk so you can shop by yourself then I will be the jerk who ruins your day. If you hit your kid I will become very much your problem. If you locked your dog in the car with the windows rolled up six hours ago and it isn't getting up when I tap the window I'm gonna be the biggest pain in the ass you'll see all day

Safety hazards. Don't shoot off a bottle rocket in the parking lot. Yes it's very cool and you probably won't hit anything important but there's a pretty big empty lot like six blocks away man, what if you nail a kid or something. If you wanna take your bearded dragon to the food court, keep him in your coat or in a carrier. Climb the telephone pole on Tuesday because thats my day off

Client complaints/concerns. Boss says you've been here living in your car for three days and it's time to move on. You and I know it's been a month but between us if you switch locations every couple days around the lot she won't catch you again till at least May. As long as you don't leave a bunch of trash laying out we're good.

END NOTES

If you have tattoos on your face, throat, or hands and you wanna pull something you gotta be so incredibly discrete, is so incredibly easy for Law Enforcement to track you down you have no idea. I know like 3 guys with face tattoos in town, one of them's been my buddy since highschool and the other 2 were introduced to me like "watch out for a guy with a star on his cheek, his name is Patrick Sturblish, he's 43 years old and I saw him pocket a redbull once".

Always assume someone is operating the cameras live.

The courts are so insanely overwhelmed all the time, if you nab something small and vital like bandages, tampons, underwear, whatever and don't have a long list of priors usually even a cop won't bother trying to charge you. If I can't tell you not to steal for the consequences then at least don't get cocky about it

In my own experience if you walk into a big store and straight up tell someone "I don't want to steal but I need this very badly" then usually someone will find a way to get it to you

If someone tells me you're stealing on camera I will let you know that someone caught you and it's your last chance to put stuff back before they do something

If you pull a weapon on me or someone else while I'm working then I'm required to inform police so please don't do that thank you

[coquettepascal]

like tiramisu

summary: nothing beats summer vacation like a secret relationship with your dad's best friend, right? wrong! what really beats summer vacation is trying not do jump joel's bones every time you're alone.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, beach fic, age gap (it's dbf!joel, imagine what you want), dbf!joel, misuse of sunscreen, semi-public activities (not sex), groping, massaging, reader has a dad and brother, overuse of the word pretty, nicknames like pretty___ and baby, oral sex (f!recieving), she/her pronouns for your pussy, joel gets blueballed, fluff, joel and reader are very much in love, established relationship, secret relationship, stereotypical oblivious reader's!dad, mention of food poisoning (nothing graphic), slight grumpy!joel, soft!dom joel (ish)

a/n: woo!! i did it :D this is my submission for @hellishjoel's hot dilf summer challenge (link to the masterlist.) i'm a big fan of their work so i'm just happy to participate. tysm for this opportunity!

(3.6k, not beta read.)

Every year you travel to the coast with your dad and brother, enjoying a week at the tail end of summer to really relax. This year, your brother got sick, and so Joel took his place.

Like Joel, your dad’s best friend. You know, the one that you slept with a month ago one night after everyone went to bed? Joel like kind-of-your-secret-boyfriend-Joel. Simple situation really, you don’t know why you nearly shit yourself when Joel was standing in your driveway dragging a suitcase behind him. 

But, as Joel does, he’s made this easy. It shouldn’t be easy to be separated from him, but it’s made the small moments you can get with him better. Besides, you still get to see him in his handsome glory, all tan and broad and…

The not-easy part is not jumping on him every time your dad turns around. 

—

“Why is this so much more expensive than ice cream?” Joel asks you, eyes squinted as he peers at the chalkboard that hangs above the gelato cooler.

The family in front of you orders and literally pays with a 50 dollar bill, still not getting anywhere near a justifiable amount of change back. Joel squints at the board harder and you smile up at him. He needs glasses, you’ve been telling him this whole trip. 

“Having trouble?” You ask teasingly. Joel’s head turns, face already scowling, but then the employee behind the counter is asking for your order before he can tear you a new one.

Joel is still scowling at you as he shells out 25 dollars for 2 “adult size” cones. 

“S’not necessary to spend this much money on vacation, darlin’, we’re already relaxed,” He grumbles as you walk out of the air conditioned business, back into the beachy heat outside. 

Innocently, you lick up a drip of the tiramisu flavored gelato that drips down the cone. Joel’s eyes narrow more, clearly not appreciative of your behavior so far today. His face eases up when he takes a bite out of his mango sherbet, cooling his flamed temper. 

Your hand snakes into his free one as you walk down the beach, back to where your things are. It’s a quieter day on the beach, luckily. The past week you’ve spent with your father and Joel has been a hectic race for who can find a good spot on the beach, who can find a good spot to sit and eat, and who can find a good spot where the three of you can be left the fuck alone. 

Today you’ve found a good spot, tucked away behind some larger rocks. It kind of looks like it could be dangerous to be there when the tide comes in, but it’s out far today. You’re fine, you’re with Joel, and most importantly, the two of you are alone. 

Your dad ate some bad shrimp last night at dinner and has a horrible case of food poisoning. He assured both of you that he’d be fine on his own, to go enjoy the sun. 

God knows you both will.

You hop over to the blanket you had laid out, cowering under the shade of the rainbow umbrella Joel had bought earlier in the week. He claimed it was so you wouldn’t get heatstroke, but you have a feeling it was more for the sake of his skin. 

As you kick off your sandals, Joel sits down beside you under the umbrella, slurping obnoxiously at the remnants of his mango cone. Most of yours is still intact, though a bit melty. It’s something to marvel at, how Joel can inhale any food of any temperature in the blink of an eye. But it makes up his soft tummy, the one you can rest your head on later when you want to soak up the sun. 

“Do you wanna try mine?” You ask, noting the hungry eyes he’s giving your gelato. He nods and so you lean over to him, extending the cone.

And just as he leans in to take a massive bite, you jerk your hand, smearing tiramisu gelato onto the tip of his nose. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling back, “that’s not fucking funny.” 

But it is funny. Seeing the white cream smudged on his nose, tangled in the bristles of his moustache. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“That’s what you get for trying to chomp half of my treat!” You point out.

Joel’s head tilts at you, as if to say “really?” 

“Okay fine, I’ll fix it,” you huff. Passing your gelato to your free hand, you lean forward and suck the tip of his nose into your mouth, slurping off the remaining mess. 

Pulling back with a pop, you see Joel’s horrified face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He groans, wiping your saliva off his face. 

Joel gives you a look, clearly expecting some sort of repayment for the ridiculous stunt you just pulled. Begrudgingly, you hand the rest of your cone to him, but only because you really should put on sunscreen.

—

The sun beats down on you as you lay against Joel’s chest and belly, his legs spread to make room for you. He’s wearing black board shorts that cut off around his mid-thigh, leaving more skin exposed. Joel didn’t wear these ones yesterday, or any day previous. It was just the same red shorts that went down to his knees. But today, he matches you and your black two piece. His thick thighs firmly frame you, keeping you in place. 

“You need to reapply your sunscreen, sweetheart,” Joel hums, blindly pawing the blanket for wherever you tossed the bottle earlier. 

Streams of sunlight bathe you where you sit, the sun no longer blocked by the rainbow umbrella Joel insisted on. You planned on tanning anyways, so you don’t mind as much as Joel seems to. He grabs the sunscreen and his sunglasses, tossing them on. 

Your chin is tucked to your chest, crunched as Joel leans over you more, opening the cap of the lotion. The liquid is so cold in comparison to the warm sun rays that blanket the two of you, a near-pained hiss escaping you.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joel grunts, working the sunscreen into your abdomen.

His hands work your soft flesh so gently, his calloused palms spreading the protective lotion carefully. Joel’s thumbs dig a little harder as he feels your hip bones beneath his hands, making you protest weakly. You know what he’s doing, taking this private opportunity for his own gain.

“Joel,” you warn whinily, squirming. 

His hands grasp you in place, holding you while the cords of muscle on his forearms pop. 

“I said don’t be a baby,” he repeats slower this time, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“We both know you’ve taken worse.”

Yeah. Yeah you do know that. It doesn’t shut you up anymore, whining as he reaches to massage your thighs, his hands slipping to your inner thighs fast. You can barely process his touch there before he’s sliding his hands back to a more appropriate spot, your arms. He’s keeping it PG for the most part at least. The nagging fear of your dad suddenly showing up despite his illness lives in the back of your mind. 

Joel massages your wrists and the palms of your hands, thumbs pushing the flesh soothingly as he murmurs in your ear about how soft you are, how perfect. 

He was keeping it PG, but he’s getting selfish now. The orange sun is painting your skin in a way that’s making it hard for him to think, and it’s been so long since he’s had you alone. Your eyes glaze over as he drips more lotion into his palms, rubbing it between them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna forget your chest, would hate for my pretty girl to burn,” is all the warning you get.

Joel’s arms loop beneath yours, his wet palms sliding up your abdomen and then beneath your swim top. Big hands envelope the starting swell of your breasts, coming upwards and smothering your sensitive skin in sunscreen. His name slips out again, choked and surprised, but this isn’t unwanted.

You miss Joel. Even as he’s been here with you for this whole week, you miss his kisses and his touch. Sleeping in the same room as him, but in separate beds, has been awful. To hear him snore without feeling the vibration of it on your own skin has been treacherous. 

So you’re letting him have this, because as much as you hunger for him, that man is ravenous.

His thumbs rub over your nipples, most of your top bunched up on his knuckles now. Joel’s voice is low in your ears, talking soft like you aren’t in total privacy on the beach. Everything is flying now, his mouth uncontrollable as he tells you how good you feel, how much he missed you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, all week you’ve been so gorgeous, darlin,’” 

And then the kisses start. Hot down your neck, his scruffy face trails, tongue tracing the bitemarks he leaves occasionally. 

“Joel– Joel no marks,” you remind softly.

He obliges with a grunt, clearly unhappy with the situation. Sometimes he can get away with little marks, ones like on your inner thighs or your tits. But not here on a beach vacation, not so close to your dad. 

Joel continues to kiss you regardless, tilting your head so he can awkwardly meet your lips as he gropes you, massaging the lotion in as if the sun would ever hit any skin below your swimsuit. The atmosphere is only getting hotter as he touches you, the sun blazing against your skin as Joel rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out.

You want more, you need more.

You can feel him hard against you, slightly digging into your back. Sex on the beach is a terrible idea. Public indecency, sand in places it shouldn’t be… but it’s so tempting when you feel how badly he wants you, how badly he missed you. 

Desperately, you turn in his embrace, his hands slipping out of your top, leaving you exposed. You shove your face against his hungrily, feeling as his sunscreen greased hand cups your jaw, gentle even when he’s starving. You open for him easily, letting his hungry tongue taste where he wants. He tastes like waffle cones and tiramisu, you want to lick him clean. You breathe heavily when he slips off your mouth and kisses the side of your face.

“S’a good girl, lettin’ me miss her,” he says into your skin.

Your mouth feels rubbed raw, your nipples are buzzing, and the sun blazes across your back. Everywhere feels warm, his lips, his tongue, your skin, your cunt in these bikini bottoms that stick to you in the worst way. You want Joel’s fingers, spreading you open however he wants. 

Joel is so good at taking care of you, so good that he can hear the rambunctious group of people coming before you can. Hands tug down your top and flip you back around before you can realize.

“You’re alright, s’okay, just some people,” Joel says, sounding anxious himself. 

Just some people. Not anyone you know, just some people.

The two of you quickly switch back to how youwere, your head on his chest while you rest between his thighs. One of his hands rests on your abdomen as he squeezes you affectionately between his legs. It’s really frustrating, watching as the group of people sets up not too far down from the both of you. So much for your private spot on the beach, and potential sex. 

He shifts beneath you, the bulge in his swim shorts uncomfortable. Joel has settled for rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of your tummy, catching his breath still. 

“You can sleep, baby. Jus’ enjoy the sun, okay?”

The last thing on your mind is sleep, you’re more focused on the conch shell in his pants, but whatever. The sun is warm, and you’re with Joel. His hand stills on your belly, a warm weight in an attempt to soothe you.

-

It works, you fall asleep as the sun sets, and wake up when the cool night air shivers past you. Joel has managed to snake out from under you, using an unused beach towel to make a pillow for you. He’s packed everything up, sans the towel pillow and the blanket you lay on. Everything is ready to go, he’s just been waiting for you.

You watch from where you lay, as he dips his toes in the water. His broad shoulders are covered by a white, linen, shirt, highlighting him across the shore. Something about this is so right, to be on vacation with him, to be taken care of by him. Laying back, eyes staring into the inky night, you wonder what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t stayed up late that night, chatting and flirting. How long would you have gone without feeling loved, and like you belonged? 

Being Joel’s girl is more than that, even if no one knows you’re his, you have come to know yourself through him. His hands brushed away the sands that blurred your eyes, you’re seeing clearly for what feels like the first time ever.

Your love for him crashes down on you hard when he turns, walking back to you with a soft, dorky, smile. That’s your man, that’s your stupid old man, and he loves you.

“You ready t’go, darlin?” Joel asks, clearly relieved you eventually woke up.

With a nod, you walk as a pair back to the hotel. Joel insists on carrying everything, claiming he “don’t need” your help, even as he grunts.

-

Entering  the lobby of the hotel is a reminder that you have to be normal again, you and Joel are just getting along swell, and not seriously infatuated with one another.

His eyes bear into you when you step into the elevator, you can feel his eyes on your back as you press the button for your floor.

“What?” You ask, stepping back to lean against the railing.

Joel’s mouth seems to be dry as he responds, eyes tracing something on your stomach.

“Your tummy,” he manages.

You look down instantly, concerned you’ve managed a sunburn despite Joel’s efforts. Instead though, you find a tan line. A tan line in the shape of Joel’s hand, where it rested as you slept. Ghosts of Joel’s lips and teeth on your neck from earlier murmur across your skin, misting tingles across your shoulders and chest. He wanted to mark you so badly, wanted to sink his teeth into you the way he should have been able to, despite your refusal. Now he has his mark, across your tummy in the shape of his hands, the ones that carefully nurture you. 

You can see how it’s making him tick, how his scruffy jaw is clenched as his eyes are entranced by the shape on your belly. He has to spend the rest of the evening, the last couple of days of this trip, with his mark on you. Joel has to do all of that and not jump onto you at every opportunity he can.

“Baby,” Joel breathes, but the elevator doors open, and your dad is right there.

Your arms instantly wrap around your middle, trying to hide away the Joel-hand shaped tan line. As sick as your dad was this morning, he’s looking miles better. There’s colour in his cheeks, that isn’t green, and he’s standing up.

“Hey kid,” he greets cheerfully, “I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better so I was gonna go out and grab a bite to eat.”

The elevator is so quiet, the doors try to shut and Joel slams a hand against it, to keep it open. Your dad looks a little weirded out, but just smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you manage to say, sounding like your lungs have been cut out of your chest.

In the few months that you and Joel have been “together” you haven’t been caught, or even close to being caught. This tan line on your tummy could have been the cat out of the bag, but thankfully your dad seems oblivious.

He steps into the elevator between you two, gently nodding at the elevator doors.

“Y’all gettin’ out? Both of y’look kinda sunfried,” your dad asks.

Joel manages to respond this time as the two of you hurriedly leave the confined space. -

He practically dragged you down the hallway and back to your room once the elevator doors shut, leaving your dad in the dark. Joel dumped all your stuff on the floor near the door, pushing you off him when you tried to kiss at him.

“Naw. Bed,” he had grumbled, making a vague gesture to your bed.

You both knew you had limited time, your dad would be gone for an hour tops. Joel had peeled off his shirt while you shimmied out of what little clothes you had on, your swimsuit coverup falling away easily.

Now, you lay on your back, and if you could look down, you would see the sweat that’s soaking his back and the mess of hair on his head.

But you can’t look down, you can barely move as is. Your legs, which are tossed over his shoulders, shiver, toes curled. You want to ask if he can breathe down there, but your voice keeps catching, repeating his name again and again. The bristles of his facial hair might be chafing, but everything is wet right now, your cunt, his face, your thighs. He’s suffocating in your flesh, opening his mouth to sloppily make out with your pussy, licking at your clit as he sucks it between his lips. It isn’t gentle, he’s fucking famished.

“Joel– Baby, please,” you manage to whimper. 

He probably can’t hear you with the headlock you’ve put him in, soft thighs trapping his ears. Joel’s face slides down further to push his tongue into you, making you clench and gush as his nose presses to your clit. Reaching your hand down, you lace your fingers against his curls, trying to pry him away, but he just won’t quit. Your fingers slip from his sweaty strands, slamming onto the sheets as he doesn’t let up.

“Missed you, missed her,” he rasps between kisses. 

Joel loves this, loves pleasing you. This isn’t submission, this is worship. He talks to your cunt like he knows her, like he’s dating her too. Gentle as he is, he knows where your aches and cricks are, knows how to massage them with his fingers and tongue. Joel takes care of you both, it’s what he lives for. 

“I know, I can feel it, I missed you too,” you babble, hands flagrant between his hair and the sheets.

He laughs softly into you, smiling. You tug him closer, grinding onto his nose as a tease. 

Joel focuses on bringing himself closer, arms snaking up beneath your ass to curl his hands around your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. “Been so patient all week, need you t’come for me, please pretty thing?” He groans.

Nodding your head, you start to work with him. Again and again you roll your hips into his face. The two of you are fucking on borrowed time and Joel hastily promises you that he can take care of himself in the shower later, that he just needs to focus on you.

“Just need to taste you, remember your cunt in my mouth, please?” Joel asks.

You nod even faster now, huffing out air as your hips rise and he pulls you closer, tongue and teeth and nose buried in you. Every movement he makes begs for your release, begs for you to give him what he wants. His voice rumbles around your head, a voice encouraging this selfish feeling of pleasure.

“C’mon darlin, I’ve been waitin’ all week to have you. Let go for me, I’ve been patient.”

It sends you over, the mixture of Joel getting pussydrunk on you and the thoughts of him in your head. Your thighs lock around his head even harder, and he powers through without taking a breath for himself. Thoughts of times with him previous flash through your mind as you shiver, thoughts of what he’ll do to you once you’re both home make you gush. He laps it all up, his reward for being patient. 

When he pulls away, your essence is all over his face. Slicked through his facial hair and even on the tip of his nose, like tiramisu gelato. 

Unlike the gelato, you decide not to suck this cream off his nose.

Gently, you swipe a finger over his nose, cleaning it off with your own tongue.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum.

Joel manages to drag himself up your body, caging you beneath him while he smiles. Soft kisses are shared between the two of you, enjoying the peaceful moment where you’re finally, truly, alone. His moustache prickles your upper lip as he smiles and pulls away.

“Can give me your ‘thank you’s’ in a few days time, sweet girl.” He says, pulling himself down to kiss the 5 fingertips of the hand tan line he left.

Looking down at him as he kisses your belly, you hope you'll be exchanging thank you's for a very long time.

[prentissluvr]

something about being close — sam winchester

pairing : s.2!sam winchester x gn!reader, featuring platonic dean ➖⟢ genre : angst, fluff, ➖⟢ cw : sam and reader are lovingly mean to each other, bad insults (weird, stupid, lame), bad jokes, swearing, canon typical violence and ghosts, arguing, so much kissing, could be ooc but idc, edited but most likely still contains a few mistakes, single usage of y/n ➖⟢ wc : 9.5K summary : sam is acting weird, and when it puts people in danger, you can't let it slide (despite the fact that you're totally in love with him).

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

“hey, check this out,” sam calls to you and dean, not bothering to look up from his computer screen. “think we found our violent spirit.” you part from your own research without a single qualm, resting a hand on the back of sam’s chair as he leans back for you and dean to get a better look. “marissa hancock. she was a student at the college, died a violent death there, just like we thought. it’s thought that the janitor impaled her with his mop while he was working in her dorm hall, but he was never put away for lack of evidence.”

“explains the janitor kabob,” dean quips, already headed to shrug on his jacket. 

“easy solve,” you admit. it only took a solid half hour of searching through records to find the right murder. “but why’s she killing now? she’s had, what?” you lean further over sam’s shoulder to inspect the record, “fifty some years to be killing janitors, why start now?”

“dunno,” sam shrugs, and you can feel his shoulder brush against you, reminding you how close he is. doing your best to stay casual and maybe not stare longingly at his pretty face from this close up, you straighten your back and go to grab your own jacket as sam types away on his keyboard. “looks like her original murderer died two weeks ago.”

“right when the killings started,” dean finishes. “alright, let’s go. you got where she’s buried, sam?”

“yep,” he stands, shutting his laptop. “saint mercy cemetery, not too far.”

“hm,” you laugh out, “second saint mercy cemetery this month. people need to get more creative,” you note as you exit the motel room and head down the short hallway to get to the impala.

“and what would you name a cemetery?” dean asks, ready to catch you off guard or tease you for anything he can get his hands on.

“i should have thought of a clever answer before saying that,” you admit, “but i do wish it were socially acceptable to call them dead people neighborhoods.”

“that’s lame,” sam grins, throwing his arm around your shoulders for just about two seconds before he has to let go to get through the small doorway and outside.

“c’mon,” you complain, “i know it’s kind of lame, and definitely insensitive, but imagine someone just asked you where you’re headed after work and you get to tell them you’re going to the dead people neighborhood. cemetery’s no fun, at least dead people neighborhood is accurate.” you close the back door of the car behind you as you settle in to punctuate your point.

“you’re weird,” sam teases in a matter-of-fact tone, not even looking back from the passenger's seat to see the sneer on your face.

“no, you’re weird,” you fire back.

“alright, kids,” dean interrupts, “enough bickering like we’re four, we’ve got a job to do,” he snickers as he backs the car up.

“okay, dean,” you and sam chime, voices full of mocking and almost totally in sync. dean rolls his eyes hard, because it’s just one of those days where the two of you can’t stop feeding into the antics of the other, regressing the combined mental age of the three of you by at least twenty years. 

having known the brothers since you were kids through bobby, and starting to hunt with them about a year and a half ago, you’ve certainly grown close with the both of them. but a little closer in age, you and sam are nothing but two peas in a pod. and much to dean’s chagrin, that means it only takes a split second for the two of you to switch things up and turn against him when he tries to break up your banter. it’s pretty much all loving argumentation, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t annoying as all hell for whoever has to witness it.

“and for the record, i like dead people neighborhood,” dean offers, ignoring your moment of synchronicity with sam.

“yes!” you celebrate, reaching around the seat in front of you to lightly hit sam’s shoulder. “you’re the lame one, you’re no fun.” 

he scoffs, mumbling something to himself about how, “of course dean likes dead people neighborhood. it’s stupid.”

you resist the urge to tell him that he’s stupid, and instead follow dean’s direction to focus on the case.

“hold on, dean. you should drop me off on campus first, one of us should make sure another janitor doesn’t fall on his mop handle before we can burn the bones,” you suggest.

“no.”

your brow furrows at how fast sam shuts you down, his serious tone a harsh contrast to his practically whiny mumble moments before. you glance at dean to see that he’s got his own eyebrows raised in confusion.

“what’d’you mean, ‘no’?” you question.

“i mean,” he clears his throat as if he’s just realized his strong denial was awkward, “that that could be dangerous alone, so i’ll go and you can stick with dean.”

you send a bewildered look to dean, one he doesn’t catch trying to pay attention to the street name up ahead. “i’m sorry, are you suggesting i can’t handle a measly ghost?” mostly you’re confused by sam’s words, but you can’t help letting a bit of offense slip into your voice.

“n-no, no that’s not what i’m saying,” he fumbles, trying to fix what he said, “i meant– i meant it would be safer for anyone not to go alone. so– so i’ll go with you and dean can stick with burning the body.”

it’s a clumsy, bad save that’s entirely unconvincing.

“you’re seriously gonna stick me with grave digging duty?” dean grunts, “y/n’s right, it’s just one ghost, we don’t need two of us to deal with it. digging up a grave is arguably harder.”

“exactly,” you reason, “which is why i should go scope out the dorm hall, and you should go with dean to the dead people neighborhood.”

“she’s buried in a family mausoleum,” counters sam, “her grave doesn’t need to be dug up, which means it’s a one person job, and since there could be an actual violent ghost in the dorm, two people should go. and don’t try to make dead people neighborhood a thing, at the very least it’s too long, not to mention it’s not funny.”

despite the fact that he’s teasing you, you’re glad to hear something normal come out of his mouth. his hesitancy to let you take on the ghost is odd, especially considering the ghost might not show up at all. it’s not like he’s never been protective of you, it’s in both his and certainly dean’s nature. but he knows full well that you are completely capable of handling one violent ghost, and he’s been weird like this for the past two weeks.

you laugh when you admit, “it wasn’t quite as good in context as i thought it would be, but it wasn’t that bad, i’m just tryna to stick with my bit,” you defend, “and fine, two people at the dorms, one on dead person arson.”

“are you serious?” sam laughs, halfheartedly tossing his head back to give you a judgemental look through the corner of his eye.

“dead serious, pun absolutely intended,” you let out a full laugh at the strangled sigh he lets out. oh how you love to rile him up with bad jokes. “you’re too easy, sam. for that, i’m sticking you on grave duty. dean and i will handle the dorm.”

“you should be on grave duty, for all the bad jokes today,” he argues.

dean practically growls in annoyance, “how about i go on grave duty, so i can get away from your annoying asses.” it’s not a suggestion, and the both of you huff out a sigh, but don’t argue.

dean drops you off a little ways from the dorm hall for you to grab a shotgun and salt rounds with less of a chance of being seen. you leave the other shotgun for dean just in case, bothered that yours is still broken from the last hunt. there hadn’t been enough time to fix it yet. so, you grab an iron rod, hoping to use that before any guns on a college campus. it’d be a sticky situation to get out of, being caught with shotguns in a dorm, and at the very least incredibly inconvenient to scare the hell out of a bunch of college aged kids at eleven pm. sam sticks the shotgun under his jacket, generally hiding it from the view of anyone not looking too closely.

walking a few minutes, you find the right dorm hall and sam hands the gun off to you to pull out his lock pick. but, glancing behind you, you shove the gun back into his hands and yank him into you.

“the hell?” he resists for a split second before you quickly interrupt him.

“shut up! hide the gun and act like you’re piss drunk. someone’s coming,” you hiss. in a swift movement, he tucks the gun back under his jacket as you shimmy the iron rod into your sleeve, then he swings his free arm around you, practically dropping half of his weight on you. “dude,” you complain, before falling into character. “sammy, come on!” you whine loudly. “i can’t reach my id with you like this,” you pretend to feel around for something in your back pocket while keeping him standing, and he immediately picks up on what you’re trying to do. he stumbles forward so that you have to use both hands to keep him upright, and you curse at your false struggle. “help me out here, sammy, will you?” you try to make your voice sound overly desperate, maybe a little innocent too, “why don’t you lean against the wall so we can get inside,” you beg, trusting sam to play his part well.

“nooo,” he slurs, dragging the word out in a whiny pitch, “don’t wanna.” he turns into you and haphazardly wraps his lanky arm all the way around your form, tugging you to him and nearly knocking the both of you over. you feel heat rush to your cheeks at this and desperately remind yourself that he’s only pressing his face into your neck so that he can get a look at the person approaching and keep the shotgun well hidden from view.

you see the girl out of the corner of your eye, young and clearly a student headed for the dorm.

“oh, thank god!” you exclaim, “hey, i’m so sorry to bother you, but do you think you could open the door for us?” you ask as sweetly as you can, pulling your eyebrows together to gain sympathy, before adding on a humorous tone, “my boyfriend is stupid drunk and i can’t get us inside.” you can feel sam stiffen for a split second at your words, and you yourself wonder if you should have just gone the “friend” route for the sake of your own sanity. you’re going to want to keep calling sam your boyfriend, over and over again.

“oh my god, of course,” she laughs goodnaturedly, and you thank the lord she’s laid back, rather than some uptight rule follower ready to report you to administration. she swipes her id and holds the door open for you, and as you struggle into the building, you think that sam is making this harder for you than it has to be. but there’s absolutely no denying you love the way it feels to just have him all over you, even for the sake of illegally entering a building with a gun.

“thank you so much,” your voice is one big sigh of relief, slightly muffled by the fabric of sam’s jacket.

“yeah, don’t worry about it,” she smiles, “you two are super cute, by the way,” she compliments before turning towards the stairs and waving a kind goodbye.

you do your best to not stumble over your words as you thank her, heat once again rising to your face, and you’re sure that sam can feel the warmth of your neck. body stiff, you turn and head down the hallway in the opposite direction, sam still clinging to you until it’s clear.

“alright, get off, you big dork,” you snort, gently pushing him away and doing your best to regain your composure to proceed as if you don’t have a massive crush on him. “did ya have to make it so hard for me?”

he shrugs with a sly grin, “had to make it convincing, didn’t i? besides, it was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”

you stick your tongue out at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

“she was really nice,” you note, voice almost wistful in a way that sam easily picks up on. about a year into hunting with the brothers and dean was off buying food, you and sam had collapsed onto a motel bed together as you had many times before by then, both exhausted after a long case. that night, as you spoke in tired, hushed tones, with no need for anyone but the other to hear your words, you had somehow ended up with your head resting on his biceps and one of his legs swung over yours. 

that’s the night you told him you were jealous that he got to go to college, even if it wasn’t for long. you’d told him how you liked the idea of that life, even if you had to return to hunting after it was over. you wanted friends your age, to learn, go to stupid parties and have a college partner. you knew the experience wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies, but you wanted it anyway. he’d said, sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than hunting in his opinion. he wanted you to have that. once this was all over, and you both got justice for your families, he’d help you apply, make sure you got in somewhere, maybe even go with you. a hush fell over the room and he knew you weren’t convinced.

“yeah, she was,” he says, his own voice a touch more gentle than moments ago. “we were lucky.” he doesn’t want to tell you that most college kids would be at least cool enough to let you inside, maybe not as friendly as her, but that it’s true you’d like it here. he doesn’t want to remind you of what you can’t have. 

a silence falls over the two of you, punctuated only by the shuffling of your feet or the rustle of clothes. it’s comfortable and easy because you’ve done it a million times before. you don’t have to say anything to agree that you’ll head to the basement where the original murder occured. the both of you stay quiet and light on your feet, sam always peering around corners before rounding them.

in the basement he stops you with a simple finger to his lips. he leans in close to whisper as quietly as he can, “janitor’s here.”

you resist the urge to call said janitor an idiot, because who the hell is going to be cleaning an area in which three of your coworkers have mysteriously died in the past two weeks, but you just nod instead, taking in the way that sam’s eyes look under the dim light.

“wanna wait around til dean calls or warn him?” you ask, equally as quiet. he turns his head to look back around the corner before continuing.

“well, we should warn him, but we can’t use the drunk ruse on an employee. he probably has a radio scanner on him, might even be connected to campus security,” he points out.

“fbi?”

“we look too much like college kids right now,” he reasons.

“right,” you agree, “well then, stupid college kids trying to see a murder scene? we’ll link arms and you can hide the gun behind your back. just so we’re near him til dean burns the bones. hopefully nothing’ll even happen.” it’s as if you jinxed it all in that moment, as the lights immediately begin to flicker, the buzz of electricity filling your ears and a sudden chill filling the air. “nevermind,” you curse, flicking the iron rod back into your hand and barging around the corner, only a hair behind sam.

“way to jinx it,” he grunts.

you just scoff and beg him, “just try not to use the gun.” this time neither of you attempt to hide your presence as your shoes pound against the tile floor.

“no promises,” sam says, the gun up and loaded in front of him.

“what the hell?” the janitor barely has the time to exclaim before he’s thrown against the wall.

“i got it,” you warn sam, eager to avoid gunshots and sprinting full speed towards the apparition, iron rod in front of you. you throw all your weight into reaching the ghost of the young girl before she can flicker out of reach. the iron in your hand makes contact, and she evaporates for the time being. unfortunately for you, your momentum keeps you going, through the space the ghost just occupied and straight into the section of the floor slick with soapy water. with no time to gain any semblance of your balance, you slip and come crashing to the ground. your back hits the floor and the wind gets knocked out of your lungs in the same moment that the iron skitters out of your hand.

you struggle a bit to sit up due to the wetness underneath you, gasping slightly and letting curses fall from your mouth the moment you can speak again.

in a split second reaction, sam shouts your name, his voice inappropriately taught and worried for such a silly accident. he’s by your side in an instant, strong hands pulling you up and his anxious voice asking if you’re alright. you wave him off easily, unconcerned for yourself.

“help him,” you urge, “i’m fine.” but he doesn’t back off nearly as easily as you’d think.

“are you sure, did you hit your head? you couldn’t breathe for a second there,” his hands stay glued to you as he rattles off his concerns, ones that you find utterly unnecessary and unhelpful considering the fact that you’re fine, and the ghost could reappear any second. his strong grip keeps you from bending down to scoop up the iron rod, but you have to wrench yourself away from him when you hear a strangled cry come from the janitor. he whirls around with you to see the ghost with her hands around the janitor’s neck, crushing him against the wall as his feet dangle just above the floor. the iron rod is back in your hand in an instant, but sam’s shotgun lays abandoned on the floor a few feet away.

he dives for the weapon, but with a flick of the ghost’s hand, he’s knocked against the wall with a noise so loud it hurts to hear. before she can pay you attention, you fling the iron towards her, vaporizing her once more. the iron clatters to the ground as the janitor collapses to his knees. you rush towards him, pulling him away from the wall before tugging a container of salt from your jacket’s inside pockets. apologetically, you haul the poor man to his feet, throwing a quick look over your shoulder at sam. he’s groaning painfully, but already moving to get back up. 

knowing he’s easily survived worse, you turn your attention back to the janitor, who’s sputtering out confused and incoherent questions about what in the goddamn hell is happening.

“just stay there,” you urge him, too pressed for time to add adequate sympathy to your tone. “stay in the circle and she can’t get you.” with practiced ease, you shake the salt onto the ground with barely enough to make a small, solid ring around the man.

you scoop up the gun from the ground, then turn to help sam onto his feet. “we’re gonna have to tough this out til dean gets done,” is all you say when you place the weapon into his hands, despite the urge to ask what the hell is wrong with him and why he’s so off his game. you turn to grab your own weapon, but it seems the ghost is reappearing faster and faster. this time, you’re the one who gets tossed into the wall, but you stay pressed against the cold surface as a mop flies to meet you, the long handle pushing against your throat and cutting off your air supply. you take in a strangled gasp, hands clawing at the old wooden handle and giving yourself a few splinters that you couldn’t care less about in the moment. of course, it doesn’t budge.

the second you’re flattened against the wall, sam shouts your name again, this time with his gun in the air, swinging around to get a shot at the ghost. but before he can react, it flies out of his hand and she reappears right in front of him, pushing him against the wall across from you.

he struggles against her wildly, his hand itching to get free of her hold to reach the hidden iron knife in his pocket. but before he can get there, her grip weakens and she lets out a strangled scream as she bursts into flames. the flames climb up her old fashioned pencil skirt and swallow up the bloody wound in her abdomen. her grip on you and sam falters as she burns away, then dissolves completely as the last of her ashes fade out into the musty basement air.

you drop to your knees, coughing and gasping for breath as the sound of the mop clattering to the floor echoes through the hallway. sam’s saying your name, half through a cough and his voice still so worried as he stumbles towards you. then he’s on his knees too and his hands are sturdy on your shoulders.

“‘m fine,” you rasp out, hand reaching for his bicep to ground you to something solid and steady. he stays right there, completely ignoring the poor man who’s still practically frozen in fear in the tiny circle of salt and the ringing of his phone. one of his hands slips around you to rub soothing strokes up and down your back and it brings you even closer to him, your forehead dipping to rest on his shoulder. you feel silly for how much he’s fussing over you, but you can’t quite scold or question him until you’ve caught your breath. clearly something is bothering him (and you want him so bad), so you let him hold you close.

“are you hurt anywhere?” he finally asks once he feels your breathing even out under his touch. 

you pull away from him gently, shaking your head before verbally confirming, “no, i’m alright sam. nothing more than your typical bumps and bruises.” your voice is a touch raspy from the pressure on your throat, but it’s nothing that won’t go away with some water and rest, maybe some tea if really necessary.

his hands stay on you as he stands. “are you sure?” he asks, and you can’t figure out why on earth, heaven, or hell he’s so overly concerned about you. frankly, it’s starting to worry you. and definitely annoy you. all the sudden he’s acting like you’re fragile, like you can’t take care of yourself. things which he should know for a fact aren’t true.

he lets you slip away from his hold as you swoop down to pick up your lost weapons and face the poor janitor.

“sorry about that all. you can step out of the salt now.” he looks at you as if he can’t be sure, and your tone softens a bit. he’s young, probably just a college kid himself. “she’s really gone this time, i promise. you won’t ever have to worry about her again. though, i wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to look for a different job.”

he nods and thanks you, and you tell him to repay the favor by not mentioning you and sam. then, at a pace you certainly can’t blame him for, he scurries away.

“c’mon,” you nod to sam, “we should get out of here. you should also call dean back. he’s probably worried you didn’t answer.” with that, you turn back in the direction of the stairs without looking back at sam, rolling your eyes when your own cell ring. you pick up with a, “we’re fine, dean,” before he can even ask why the hell it took you so long to answer him. he lets out a sigh, half relieved, half annoyed. 

“what took ya so long?” he asks anyway.

“had a few bumps in the road since little miss janitor-killer showed up, but we’re fine. neither of us are hurt. would’ya pick us up in the same spot you left us?”

“yeah, ‘course. already on my way, see you crazy kids in five.” with that, he hangs up and you don’t have to glance over your shoulder to feel sam following behind. it’s all just the familiarity of his footsteps, the sound they make, and the pace at which he walks. it’s the particular rustle of his favorite jacket, soft and scratchy sounding all at once. it’s the feeling of his tall figure, his broad chest so close behind you that he’d run right into you if you stopped even for a moment. you debate whether to ask him what the hell is up now or at the motel. for now, the priority is getting out unnoticed, so you clench your jaw a bit and continue in silence because you’re beginning to feel a little angry with him. you think he can feel it, so he stays quiet too, all the way out the dorm and down the street to wait for dean.

it’s not uncommon to be quieter after a hunt is finished because you’re all usually tired and more often than not achey from some toss around or another. but sam can tell there’s something else bothering you tonight. from the way you tilt your shoulder away from him, the distance so nearly imperceptible that only he would notice, he’s willing to bet that he’s that something. and though he doesn’t want to admit it, he thinks he knows why. he just won’t be the first one to say something about it because he’s stubborn, a little prideful, and most of all, too afraid to explain why he’s acting this way.

even so, he just can’t help himself. he hovers near, so near that once you’re settled by the side of the road, you can feel him without actually touching him. you’re tempted to nudge him away, just because of how overprotective he’s acting. you’re also tempted to lean back into his chest because somehow you know his hands wouldn’t waste a second in gathering you up and keeping you closer than ever before. it starts to rain a little bit, soft and almost unnoticable if it weren’t for the new chill in the air. for a moment, you can feel one hand hover over your waist, just for a second before there’s a light swish of fabric when it falls back to his side. you wonder if he’s worried about you getting too cold.

you hear dean before you see him, the rumble of the impala coming into earshot moments before its headlights appear around the corner. the car slows as it nears you, pulling to the side of the road with the front windows down and some classic rock guitar riff filtering into your ears. the music’s quieter than you know it was just moments ago from when dean was alone. he greets you two with a simple, “hey,” once he’s fully stopped and you place your hand out, palm up and wordlessly asking for sam to hand you the rifle to put in the trunk.

“i got it,” he says, not waiting for you to argue when he takes the iron from the loose grip of your fist and makes his way to the trunk. you slide into the back seat behind the passengers side and return dean’s greeting.

he twists in his seat to watch you as you close your eyes and massage your shoulder with a wince. it’s beginning to become more sore, just like all the rest of your body.

“you okay?” he asks, voice full of his normal gruffness that tells you cares enough to ask but knows not to be too worried.

you open your eyes back up to give him a nod. “‘m fine. just the usual ghost beat down. y’know, bumps and bruises.”

“mm, sure do,” he agrees, “so what? dearly departed marissa thought you were janitors?” he asks skeptically. you hear the slam of the trunk, and moments later sam’s settling into his seat in front of you.

“no,” you scoff, “some idiot kid was actually cleaning down there. told ‘im to get a new job,” you snort humorlessly.

“well, i’ll say,” dean raises his eyebrows in agreement before twisting back to face the wheel. he sneaks a look between you and sam before switching the car out of park and getting back on the road. for a few minutes, all you hear is the muted music, the constant roll of the engine, the light patter of rain on the metal roof, and the road under the tires. then dean switches off the music. “anything happen back there that i should know about?” he ventures.

“no,” sam answers casually, “nothing, just the usual.” you don’t even answer. you just can’t figure out if you should involve dean, tell him how sam was unthinking and almost entirely uncaring about the innocent civilian involved, all because he was so worried about you.

“alright,” dean concedes, glancing at you through the rearview mirror and sounding entirely unconvinced. he doesn’t turn the music back on, just lets the silence reign, so you close your tired eyes and lean your head against the cold glass of the window. you’ve fallen asleep in the back of the impala countless times before, but your drowsiness doesn’t take over this time in favor of letting your mind wander over what to say to sam. you can’t just let it be, and tonight is certainly the worst it’s gotten. plus, it’s an easy habit for you to wait for sleep when you’re already so close to the motel. 

when dean pulls into the parking lot, he doesn’t turn off the engine. “gonna grab some grub. i’ll be back in a bit with the usual.”

“grab me something for dessert, will ya? ‘m craving something sweet,” you request, leaning towards the driver’s seat. 

“sure thing,” he nods, and you slide out of the car and close the door after a thank you and tired smile. “anything for you, sammy?” you hear him ask.

“i’m good, just the regular,” sam responds as he exits the car. you unlock the motel door, and he’s inside the room just a moment later, closing and locking the entrance behind him. you stand facing away from him at the shitty table, your jacket already strewn across the back of a chair. you can hear him behind you, going through his routine movements. he’s taking off his jacket, setting it down on the edge of the bed. then he’s pulling comfier clothes out from his pack.

“you wanna shower first?” he offers, breaking the silence of the room. you can feel his gaze on your back.

“sure,” you swallow, “thanks,” you say without any sort of edge to your voice.

“‘f course,” he says, and he means that. his eyes follow you as you pull out your own change of clothes, just a tshirt and sweats, and make your way to the dingy bathroom. you’re tired, so you’re quick with it, but the water’s already lukewarm by the time you’re done. you dry off and dress quick, eager to lay in bed.

and yet, when sam takes your place in the bathroom and the sounds of the shower start up again, you sit at the table instead, picking out a few splinters in your hands before folding your arms and resting your head against them. you stay that way, even when you hear the water turn off, the bathroom door open, his heavy footfalls that are only heavy because he’s so tall and not for lack of gentleness, then the scraping of the chair across from you. he doesn’t even say a thing, just looks at the top of your head and the tip of your nose. the shape of your hands, the point of your elbows, and the curve of your back.

with a deep breath and some pain in your neck, you lift your head. you look back at him and slump your chin into your palm.

“i’m upset with you,” you state.

he frowns. even his frown is pretty. “i know,” he sighs.

“so? why are you acting like this?” your voice is tired, but you still manage to infuse accusation into your tone, “sam, why are you suddenly acting like i can’t take care of myself out there? you’ve been weird for nearly two weeks now, and i don’t like it. i don’t like this.”

sam doesn’t know how to respond. he’s used to being yelled at, shouted at, angry at. he’s used to yelling and shouting and getting angry back. and though he’s certainly fought with you before, he’s still not used to the level tone and the way you say each word so slow, like you’re not actually arguing. just upset and rightfully a little angry, like you just want to understand. 

sure, he can hear the plain anger in your voice. you’re not trying to hide it. but you’re not yelling. how’s he supposed to use the heat of the moment to shout back, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” or “i’m just trying to help,” when there is no heat in the moment? instead, he’s embarrassed and the only answer he can come up with, the only one that he can mean if he answers in that same, level tone you’re using is, one he’s having too much trouble saying aloud. any other answer would just be too wrong like that. or maybe if you were shouting, he’d tell you the truth, because he could yell it out, loud and rash without thinking about it. if he says it now, it’s not because he just let it slip. if he says it now, there’s no way to take it back, to get around everything threatening to bubble over the surface like forgotten water on a heated stove.

“i don’t think that you can’t take care of yourself. i know you can,” is all he says, because it’s true and it skirts around the real questions. his voice is rough, halfway between pleading and holding back from the anger he doesn’t yet know how to control. you heave a sigh.

“so why, sam? why?” you let the heavy question stew for a moment, then go on when he doesn’t even meet your gaze, “or, i don’t know, if you’re not gonna tell me, just promise me you’ll stop?”

he clenches his jaw because he knows he can’t. he just wishes you would shout. then, he’d tell you. he can imagine the words coming out of his mouth, but only if they’re loud, only if you’ve pressured him to do it. he realizes that’s probably fucked up. but the other way is too vulnerable, too vast of a leap to take to when he’s just not sure.

“sam,” you press, “you don’t have to worry about me, i swear. i don’t understand what’s got you like this, but it’s getting in the way of you being able to do your job right. that kid could have died because all you could do was worry about me,” that’s when you begin you raise your voice, just a little. because that’s what’s making you most upset about this. you hate it ‘cause you feel like he’s doubting your abilities as a hunter, but you hate it even more because it’s making him disregard the safety of others and of himself, for you. “sam, i only slipped. sure i got the wind knocked out of me, but you dropped your gun for that? frankly, that was stupid. and the poor kid was being choked, and if i hadn’t been lucky enough to throw the iron before she could react, he could have died. i need you to understand that. i need you to understand that i can do this job, that i’m strong enough, and that if you don’t trust me with that? people could die. and i’m not about to let that happen. so either you tell me what’s up and we figure it out, or you stop and i pay you the huge favor of just dropping the whole thing, okay?”

suddenly he looks all sad. “i do trust you,” he says, voice all sincerity and nothing more.

you close your eyes for a moment, half in frustration and half because you could really use some shut eye right about now. “that’s not– well, it is. it is part of the point. but i need an answer from you, i need you to tell me you won’t let whatever this is put somebody else in danger.”

he clenches his jaw. he’s still stuck. you still haven’t shouted.

“just spit it out. i can practically see something rolling around on the tip of your tongue. just say it, sam.”

there’s an edge to your voice, so maybe he can.

“i can’t lose you.”

there it is. it’s said with an edge, too, like he wanted to shout it but couldn’t. it’s said rough and a little bit angry and full of this undying faithfulness and yes, love. 

but you still don't quite understand it, so it makes you sigh. it makes your eyes soften a bit and it makes you a little angrier than before. it makes you want him to mean that with all his chest and it makes you want to shake him hard until he comes to his senses.

“that’s always been a danger, ever since we met. you know that,” your voice is something so oddly gentle in its frustration, “sammy, you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you either. hell, i don’t think the words “best friend” even begin to cover the depth of how much i care about you. but we’ll both be safer if we trust each other, if we trust in both of our abilities to keep ourselves and the other safe. tell me that you understand that.”

it takes him a minute to speak again, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he searches for what to say. “two weeks ago,” is all he manages at first. you try to think back to it, and it immediately dawns on you. “i couldn’t prote–”

“sammy, no,” you interrupt, “that wasn’t your fault, okay? i know this doesn’t help to say, but we can’t always protect each other perfectly, to the extent we really want. i’d do anything for you, sammy, you know that.” after that there’s supposed to be a “but” where you explain to him that you can’t let that get in the way of your thinking straight and keeping everyone safe. instead, those last words just hang, suspended and weighty in the air.

“but you could’ve been killed,” the way he says your name is almost desperate. “it was dean that saved you. i was there and i couldn’t even help. what if next time, dean isn’t there? what if–,” his voice breaks, and he effectively cuts himself off from finishing the sentence. you know what he was trying to say.

any answer you give to that, you know isn’t enough. “but i wasn’t killed, sam. i’m here. i’m right here and i’m alive and i’m well and i don’t want to spend all my time worrying about you worrying about me. not like this.” you let that sit for a moment or two, and though his eyebrows are still all sad and pinched together, you think you’re starting to get through to him.

“but i can’t lose you,” he repeats stubbornly.

“sam,” you’re practically begging at this point, frustration creeping back into your voice, “the best way for you to keep me safe from ghosts and monsters and everything else is to take care of the problem, efficiently and effectively, like we always do. if there’s no monster, it can’t hurt me. but if you drop your weapon just because i slipped on soapy floors and lost my breath for a second? then it’s not just you and whatever innocent bystander around who’s more vulnerable now, it’s me too. so if that’s what it’s gonna take for me to convince you to stop fussing over me, then, please, think about it like that.”

sam is smart. he loves logic and reason, and you’ve handed him just that. but even more than that, he loves you. in the end, that trumps all.

“but i love you.”

he says it like a plea. like he didn’t mean to say it at all but it was the only thing running through his mind, and therefore, the only thing running off his tongue.

“sammy,” you breathe out, and then it’s like there’s no more air for you to breathe back in. that sweet nickname of his coming out of your mouth, resting on your tongue before tumbling into the air, is half like a drug to him, half like a bitter wind to sober him up quick.

“i– i only meant that i–,” he meant just that and now it’s said and now he’s never going to take it back, even if you hate him for it. “i meant that,” he says it firm and true this time, “i love you, so i can’t lose you.”

the way he looks at you, right into your eyes like they’re the prettiest things he’s ever seen, like you’re the best thing he’s ever had, oh, it has you hooked like bait has a fish who bit down too hard. it has you praying he never looks at anybody else like that again. it has you rising out of your seat and it’s pulling you across the small, wobbly table. he’s wedged into the grooves of your heart, so deep it could kill you to pull him out, so you follow the tug and he leans in too so the line isn’t so taught, so that it’s easy and comfortable and beautiful to reach his lips. 

his hands are like a net that catches you up in big, lovely swaths. they travel from your own hands, that lean against the table to keep your lips pressed to his, up to your elbows and then he knows he can never get enough. so he pushes up out of his own seat, drags his hands further up your arms until they can wrap around your biceps and push you up. not for a moment does he let his lips leave yours as he stands and pulls the both of you away from the table until he can bring you close, right into his wide, warm chest. then his hands can roam, gentle over your sensitive back, up to your neck then the back of your head to push your face into his. the other hand gets to go from your waist to your hips, or dip to the small of your back and press you flush to him.

you can only get away from him for a second, just enough time to whisper, “i love you, too,” before he swallows you back up. you melt right into him, and he loves it so much, but he feels how tired you are and he remembers he is too. so he only kisses you for a minute longer before letting your head rest on his shoulder. without any reservation, he presses a long kiss to your temple and you sigh a sweet sigh into his worn out tshirt.

unwilling to let go, he waddles with you, all bundled up into his arms, to the edge of the bed. without warning, he collapses into it, taking you right down with him and pulling out a little shriek from your mouth that he finds to be nothing short of endearing. he laughs, a belly laugh that you can feel the vibrations of as it moves up into his chest and out of those pretty lips of his. with some struggle to readjust yourself, you press a sweet peck to those lips. another easy i love you.

then you collapse back into his hold and the low quality plush of the motel bed. “now promise me you’ll pull yourself together next time we get a case?” this time your ask is so much more lighthearted, sweeter because it’s mumbled into the skin of his arm. you mean it just as much, but you can’t help the fact that you feel like you’re floating, “now i really, really can’t have you getting us in trouble. i’ll need to be able to kiss you at any given moment, so you have to promise me that you’ll trust me to take care of myself. because it works, and you know it. it’s the safest way. for both of us.”

the sigh he heaves can be felt through practically your whole body. it’s heavier than you wish it’d be, but he relaxes against you just a bit more. “i know,” he relents, “i’ll do my best, okay?”

“thank you,” you breathe out, too relieved to care that he couldn’t quite promise. you know this all means he’ll just be more protective of you, but you can say the same for yourself. now that you’ve kissed him and he’s told you he loves you and you’ve said it back, right against his lips, you’ll worry about him extra. but the both of you know the best ways to keep each other alive, and that has to be enough for you. you allow yourself to snuggle closer into him before joking, “d’you think dean’s ever gonna come back?”

you feel sam’s quiet laugh more than you hear it. “yeah, he really did us a favor with that one, didn’t he?” you can hear the smile in his voice before he remembers himself, “do not tell him i said that.” having you in his arms like this has got him a little giddy, saying things aloud that he normally wouldn’t.

letting out a laugh of your own, you promise, “i won’t. but i’m starting to get hungry. maybe we should call him and tell him the coast is clear, we didn’t tear the room to shreds or anything like that.”

sam chuckles again, and you decide very quickly that you like the way it feels for him to laugh with you so close. neither of you move, not to get a phone to call dean or to stop yourselves from growing drowsy. not for anything.

you’re half asleep when you hear the familiar sound of the impala’s engine near the room. it turns off, then comes the sound of its front door being open and shut. just because you’re hungry and it spells the arrival of food, you force your eyes open and let out a groan when you wiggle your arms out of sam’s hold to stretch. the way his hands shift to your waist as you do so has you a bit flustered and you wonder if you’re supposed to pretend in front of dean that you haven’t spent the last half hour kissing and cuddling. but sam doesn't seem to care, because he just sits up when the door’s lock clicks, one hand by your head to hold him up, the other still settled decidedly on your waist. so you decide not to care either, and turn your head around to accidentally grin at dean when he peeks his head through the door. you had meant to look casual, but the second someone else becomes a witness to the fact that you’re laying together like this, you’re beaming.

dean visibly relaxes when he takes in the sight, pushing the door all the way open to walk in, then lock the door back up behind him.

“hey, there,” is all he says, shooting the both of you a look that says, really, you’re just gonna keep sitting there like that in front of me? it’s not that bad, but he’s allowed to tease because he just turned a twenty minute food trip into an hour purely for yours and sam’s sake. you clear your throat awkwardly, and only when you sit up does sam’s hand fall away from you.

you pad over to the table as dean places the paper bag of fast food on the surface. he drags over an extra mismatched chair and sam follows close behind you, pulling the remaining chair to sit beside you. as you begin to pull food out from the bag, now clearly gone cold to the touch, dean sits down, complaining that they didn’t have pie, so he bought you two cookies for dessert instead.

“well, thank you for the food anyways,” you smile, hoping he picks up on the fact that you’re thanking him for the other thing too, “damn shame there was no pie, though,” you say, more for his sake than yours. you wonder why he didn’t just pick some up from somewhere else since he was gone so long.

“mhmm, and don’t sweat about the pie. just got a slice somewhere else,” he shrugs, “ate it in the car, there was only one slice left and i didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out,” he explains with that familiar teasing edge which makes you think he indeed caught onto the double meaning of your thanks. you let out a small huff of laughter before tearing into the food, only now realizing just how hungry you are. you’d felt it creep up on you on the car ride back, smiled at the mention of food from dean, even stupidly thought about it during a quiet moment in the argument with sam. but the second your lips found his, that was the only hunger you’d felt. to keep kissing him, to keep him close, keep him loving you. only when you settled all the way into his arms, sure that you’d be able to satiate that hunger again, could your body remember you hadn’t eaten since early this afternoon.

the three of you eating like this, late at night and without much conversation, is common and comfortable. dean is on what you assume to be his second burger, because there’s no way he’d have just sat in the car, probably parked in a random lot and wondering how long he should be gone, and just waited to eat an extra-bacon burger until he came back. sam’s nearly the same as always, too, but tonight he sits so close that his forearm brushes against yours. you bump elbows or knees every so often, and the side of his socked foot is pressed against yours the entire time.

you sigh, content with the nearness of him that’s so much more complete and full than it was just hours ago. now, there’s no need to hover. now, you can just swoop in and land, take what you want, give what the other needs.

dean makes no teasing comments, but you can feel the way he’s been examining, reading the two of you. you’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something aloud, but you know that he knows the two of you so well that he understands almost exactly what must’ve happened while he was gone. maybe he’s not teasing because this is the outcome he wanted to come back to. he probably knows better than the both of you how you were crushing, pining even, over the other.

he takes his turn in the shower when he finishes his food, and you and sam begin to clean up a few minutes later. once all the trash is crumbled up and tossed away, you go around and turn off all the lights but a single bedside lamp. as you turn away from clicking off the lamp in the corner of the room, sam’s right there in front of you. you don’t have the time to be startled by him sneaking up on you, he’s so quick to cup your face with his hands and slot his lips against yours. he lingers a long moment before pulling apart just enough to rest his forehead on yours.

“gonna kiss you forever,” he whispers, and you realize you’ve turned this giant man into a complete and utter sap. 

“you better.” your grin is wide and real and he can almost feel your lips moving, he’s so close. just as you’re ready to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him hard, the steady white noise of the shower shuts off. you sigh and laugh a little, leaning in to steal one more chaste kiss before brushing past him. but he turns with you, hands still warm on your cheeks and not letting go until he’s kissed you once more.

when dean’s gone from the bathroom, sam follows you in to brush his teeth with you. you’ve done so plenty of times, but tonight, sam gets to loop his free arm around your waist and pull you into him, rather than stand shoulder to shoulder in the cramped space. he gets to make you giggle through toothpaste when he does so, and you get to switch your toothbrush to your other hand and wrap your own arm around his waist, too. he gets to make you laugh dangerously harder when he tightens his hold on you to prevent you from bending and spitting into the sink when you’re done. you try to hold back the laughter with your mouth full of toothpaste, then he’s the one laughing around his toothbrush because there’s white, foamy spit rolling down your chin from the corner of your mouth and threatening to drip to your dark-colored tshirt. of course, he lets you spit and rinse your mouth, relishing in the continued sound of your laughter.

“you asshole! almost ruined my shirt til the next time we make a laundry stop!” you take revenge as he rinses out his own mouth, splashing the running water onto his face as he swishes water around in his mouth. 

he spits the water out in surprise and sputters an indignant, “hey!” before he bursts into laughter again.

you’re both giddy, high off of kissing each other, and silly from the exhaustion of a hunt, so he tugs you into him by your hips and keeps laughing into the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers up through his soft, newly washed hair. you kiss the closest thing you can reach and he melts right into your arms.

it’s only when you yawn that he pulls away from you. “we should get to bed, huh?”

you nod and twist towards the door, peeking through it to see dean sleeping in his bed, his still form highlighted by the warm light of the cheap lamp. taking sam’s hand with a shy smile, you lead him to the other bed, turning off the last light and climbing under the covers with him not far behind. he loops his arm under your head, then the other over your waist to splay his hand flat across the small of your back. the way he does it is exactly the way you wished he would, as if he’s thought about holding you like this every night you share a bed, just as you had. with a final glance towards dean, he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips.

you try to stifle the giggle that the soft, ticklish contact of his lips wants to pull from your chest, praying that dean is really as asleep as he looks. the both of you stiffen a bit when you hear dean’s blankets rustling, but you let out another breathy, quiet laugh when it goes silent again.

sam’s about to kiss you all over again when dean’s voice rings out into the hush of the night, startling you both.

“no shenanigans while i’m asleep, lovebirds,” he grunts.

that brings more laughter out of your lips and a rush of heat to your face that you’re sure sam feels, too. he just groans in annoyance at his brother, because of course dean had to get in at least one borderline dirty comment. neither of you really answer as dean shifts around in his bed again, likely turning his back to you and mumbling something mostly unintelligible. 

the only word you can catch is “finally.”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 2

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, general filth, threesome, smut, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), and Rhaenyra ‘talks you through it’ Targaryen

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.6K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

“Darling, you need to wake up,” Rhaenyra coaxes, stroking her fingers through your hair. “The tournament is today and the maids have already drawn you a bath.”

You groan, rolling away from your wife and back into Daemon’s warm side. “Five more minutes,” you grumble. 

Rhaenyra snorts out a laugh, “we both know what that will turn into.”

“It’s not fair,” you whine. “Why does Daemon get to sleep in? Isn’t he competing in this damn thing?” You pull the blankets up over your head in an attempt to shut out the light.

Rhaenyra yanks the blankets down, and the sudden chill from the morning air is enough to wake both you and Daemon. “Now you’re both up.”

You grumble, rolling out of bed and attempting to wipe the sleep from your eyes. “Can you pick a dress for me, Nyra?” 

Rhaenyra hums her agreement and rifles through your wardrobe to find something “tourney-appropriate.” You gaze at your wife, awestruck. It’s been six months since you woke up in Westeros. Y/N from a year ago couldn’t even imagine herself married, let alone to someone like Rhaenyra and Daemon. But now? You couldn’t really fathom life without them. Things were just….easy with them. Of course you argued, but the three of you never went to bed angry. You weren’t one to believe in soulmates, but the way they fit so effortlessly into you could convince you otherwise.

You softly pad across the room, sliding your arms around Rhaenyra’s waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. Pecking her cheek, you watch as she sifts through the wardrobe. “Does it really matter what I wear?”

“This is your first public outing since you lost your memories, of course it matters,” Rhaenyra chides. “I want this day to be perfect for you.”

You laugh light, nuzzling into Nyra and trailing kisses up her neck. “If you want this day to be perfect, we could just forget the tourney and make our own entertainment here.” 

“You’re insatiable.” Rhaenyra says, turning around to kiss you deeply. You moan into her mouth as she grips your hips and pulls you closer into her. She nips at your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you. Your hands fly up to grip her hair, the white locks soft and neat despite last night’s activities.

Rhaenyra breaks the kiss, hands trail up your sides as she pulls your shift up and over your head. You shiver at the cool air, but Nyra chases that away as she kisses and nips her way down your neck. A curse is stuck in your throat as Rhaenyra plucks at your nipple with deft fingers. Your hands cradle her head as you try to pull her back up into a kiss, but Nyra bats ur hands away and laves her tongue over your nipple. “Nyra, please,” you whine.

She glances to the bed behind, a smirk playing on her lips. “It appears we have an audience,” she purrs. You look over your shoulder to see Daemon, lounging on the bed in nothing more than his wedding rings. His back is against the headboard as he lazily strokes his cock. “What do you say darling?” Rhaenyra asks as she turns you to face Daemon fully. “Should we give him a show?”

You nod desperately, wanting nothing more than for Rhaenyra to touch you again.

“Use your words.” Daemon’s voice is gravely from sleep. 

“Please.”

“Please?” Rhaenyra teases. “I can’t give you anything unless you tell me exactly what it is you want.” Her left arm slides around your waist, holding you in place.

“Please touch me.”  

“I am touching you.” She nibbles at your ear as she tightens her grip on your waist.

“You know what I me-”

“Oh I don’t think I do. Where does my needy little dragon want to be touched?” Rhaenyra asks. “Here?” Her right hand ghosts across your cheek. “Or maybe….here?” Her hand falls to tweak at your nipple. 

“Ah-”

“No, I think you want me here,” Nyra purrs as she slips a hand between your thighs. You widen your stance, rocking your hips forward into her palm. She rubs tight circles on your clit as she reaches her other hand up to pluck at your nipples.

“You give in to her too easily,” Daemon chastises. “If you keep spoiling her like this, she’ll never want to leave our chambers.”

“My prince, don’t you have a tournament to prepare for?” you say as you turn your head to catch Nyra’s lips.

“Hmm, mouthing off are we?” Daemon hums in response. “I can think of a far better use for those pretty lips.”

“If you win today, I just might consider putting these ‘pretty lips’ to a use,” you tease.

Daemon’s gaze darkens and he motions you forward as he shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, spreading his thighs. You lick your lips in anticipation, stalking forward and dropping to your knees before him. Nuzzling into his knee, you kiss up his thigh and stop as you reach his cock. “Open,” he orders, slapping his cock lightly against your tongue. 

You shift your thighs, trying to get some friction. “There’s my obedient little slut,” Daemon purrs. “All that fire just disappears the second she’s on her knees.”

His fingers wind into your hair, guiding his cock into your mouth. You eagerly lap at the head of his cock, lightly sucking. “That’s it,” he moans. “Keep going, my love. Take me a little deeper.”

You moan as you bob your head to take him deeper, sliding a hand between your legs to toy with your clit. 

“None of that.” Rhaenyra says, pulling your hand away from your core before her hands replace Daemon’s to grip your hair. She sets a harder pace than Daemon, fucking your mouth down onto his cock. 

Spit drips down your chin as your moans vibrate along his shaft. “Fuck,” Daemon swears. “You feel so good, my love–taking me so well.”

“Like she’s made for us,” Rhaenyra finishes. 

Your hands grip at Daemon’s thighs as you fall into Nyra’s rhythm. You gag lightly as she forces you down a little too far. She pulls you back instantly, kissing your forehead in an apology before guiding you back down. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs. “Can you take a little more?” 

You attempt to nod as she slowly presses you down, and you feel the head of his cock bump the back of your throat.

“Gods,” Daemon moans. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Rhaenyra murmurs. “Halfway down his cock and gagging for more. You can keep going for me, can’t you?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you’re determined. You swallow around his cock as you let Rhaenyra guide you down.

“Eyes up, I want to watch as you take me down your throat.”

Your eyes flutter as you meet his gaze. You struggle to get the last few inches, but even your breathing before sliding home. 

“Good girl,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Hold it.” Her hand holds you firmly down at the base of Daemon’s cock. “Right there.”

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Daemon breaths out. He moans, his hips bucking lightly as he struggles to restrain himself from fucking your face.

“Can you take it for us?” Nyra leans down to nip at your earlobe. “I want you to make Daemon come. You can do that, just a little more.”

Daemon swears as his restraint breaks. He thrusts up into your mouth, and you grip his thighs tighter in response. He climaxes with a low groan. Rhaenyra grips your hair harder, pulling your head back so you’re staring up at her.

“Don’t swallow,” she orders. “Open wide, let me see the mess he made.” You whine, eyes rolling back at her words. Your mouth drops open, and Rhaenyra groans at the sight. She leans down, kissing you fiercely, swiping her tongue across yours to taste Daemon’s cum.

You moan into the kiss, pulling at her dress in an attempt to get it off. 

“Later love,” she says, pulling away from you. “Your bath is getting cold.”

“But I didn’t-”

“We know,” Daemon smiles wickedly. “But I have a tourney to prepare for.” He wanders over to the wardrobe, pullings a pair of pants on before stopping to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Not fair,” you whine. “I didn’t get to come.” Your hands reach for his waistband.

“No,” Daemon scolds, clasping your hands together in his larger one and wrenching your body into his. “You’re not in charge here. You’re going to listen and obey like a good little girl.” You whine in response, nodding furiously in agreement. Suddenly, Rhaenyra’s warm body brushes up against your back. She nibbles lightly at your ear before kissing and licking her way down your neck.

“No need to be cruel,” Rhaenyra purrs. “Our little dragon is just begging for attention the only way she knows how.”

You whimper, canting your hips into Daemon’s. He slides a thigh between yours, pressing it up against your cunt. Your eyes roll back and you moan at the friction. “Please,” you breathe out, your teary eyes meeting his. 

“Later,” Daemon promises. “After I win the tournament, I promise to lock you in these rooms and fuck that needy cunt until you’re begging me to stop.”

NOTE: Should I…..turn this into an actual series with an actual plot….nahhhh. Maybe later. For now I’m just enjoying writing their dynamic. Can’t wait to drop part 3 for ya’ll.- Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra

Want to be added to a taglist? Click HERE!

[silencesscreams]

hiii, idk if ur still active but I love ur writing and I was wondering if u could maybe do a james smut with a Christmas theme! tyyy💓

Merry Christmas, I miss you

james potter x f!reader

summary: you and James have been broken up since Halloween. Until he calls you on Christmas Day after finding out that you both were spending the evening alone. (muggle+modern day au)

warnings: use of y/n, reader is shorter than James, swearing, smut (MDNI!), afab reader, nipple sucking, oral/fingering (f receiving), praise!!!, penetration, multiple orgasms(2), slight dom!james, reader has hair long enough to be stroked, kind of make-up sex tbh, unprotected + use of the pill, creampie, not proofread at all 😭

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! I immediately thought of this song, hope you like it <3

You hated spending Christmas alone.

When your family was getting plane tickets two months ago, you said you’d spend Christmas with James, who also cancelled his plans with his family, just for him to break up with you two weeks later.

There was no one you could spend the end of year holidays with, all of your friends were with their families or together.

James absolutely hated the silence in his apartment.

Sirius and Remus were spending the holiday together at cabin they found online and Peter had gone home to his family.

James hated having brought this upon himself.

Were you with somebody else out there? Were you meeting their family? Were they in your apartment?

It was killing him.

What he hated most of all was breaking up with you during a stupid fight which he didn’t even remember the reason why it happened. He just remembers being drunk and stupid.

So he called Sirius, because that was what he usually did when things went to shit, and also because Sirius was close to you and he would probably know what James had been asking himself for the past hour.

The phone rang about six times until he finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

“What do you think y/n is doing right now?” He heard Sirius groan.

“Why do you care about what she’s doing?” James didn’t answer. “She’s alone at her place, don’t call her.”

“You think I should call her?” He decided to ignore any advice that went against whatever he wanted.

“God, he’s so fucking confusing.” he heard Remus say.

“Moony, do you think I should call her?”

“James, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not the point.”

“Do what your heart says and leave us alone pleeeeaseee!” Sirius said and hung up.

James dialed your number on his phone, he memorized it so there was no real meaning to why he deleted it a while ago.

When you read the name on your phone’s screen once it started vibrating you thought you’d faint.

You wished that he had butt dialed you, or that maybe he called the wrong person. You knew you were wrong.

“James?” You said as you picked up and paused the TV in front of you.

“y/n. Hi, merry Christmas.” He sat up straight on the couch. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t believe him.

“What?” You asked, even though you heard him clearly the first time.

“What are you doing tonight?”

So he was booty calling you on Christmas, was that it?

“I’m currently watching every single sitcom Christmas episode I can think of. You?”

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. Are you by yourself?”

“Yes.” You replied, almost whispering. You couldn’t understand him.

“Me too. Can I come pick you up? We could maybe watch every single sitcom Christmas episode together. I have some food here.” He was already getting up and putting on his shoes outside of the apartment.

“Sure.”

You sighed after hanging up, what could go wrong? You’d go, you’d eat his food, you wouldn’t hook up with him and you’d be home by midnight. It was fine. Everything was under control.

Until you got into his car.

Until you felt his smell, the three in one shampoo that had the sweetest smell a three in one shampoo could ever have.

“Hey, you look great.” He said, looking at you as you put on the seatbelt.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Did you change your hair?” James asked, starting to drive.

“Kind of, yes.” You looked out the window and then back at him. “You look the same.”

He let out a small laugh. “I do.”

It was usually a 10 minute drive from your apartment to his, in which you awkwardly played with the hem of your skirt and made small talk.

“I have some frozen pizza at home, we could make popcorn too if you like, I bought one of those air popping machine things a few weeks ago. Actually, Sirius got that.” He said as he parked the car on the empty street in front of the apartment complex.

“I’d like that.”

Maybe you believed everything was still in control until you entered his apartment, the floor was cold and you left your shoes at the door. He locked it behind you.

“You remember the place don’t you?” You nodded. “There’s a few blankets and a sweater on the couch and you can turn on the TV if you want to. I’ll take the pizza out of the freezer and get the popcorn machine ready.”

You decided on starting with The Office’s season two Christmas episode, then you watch the other eight. Or you’d move to New Girl, then maybe Brooklyn 99, possibly Seinfeld.

“Bad news!” You heard James say from the kitchen. “Theres no corn to pop” he said, coming out and looking at you sitting on the couch.

“It’s alright, how about we watch this one and then I can help you out with the pizza?” You moved to the right side of the couch, inviting him to sit on your left.

You did realize you had no control over anything once he sat and instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. That might’ve also been when he realized he had no control.

“What are we watching?” He asked as you covered your legs with the blanket on the couch, he pulled some of it to himself and shared with you, your knees touching under it.

“I thought we could start by the office, we obviously won’t watch all of them, so we can move to New Girl afterwards, then maybe we could do Brooklyn 99 or Seinfeld because I know you like those two.” You looked at him and he hummed.

“That’s a good plan.” You smiled at him and started the episode.

When Micheal started talking about the Yankee Swap, James took his left arm from off your shoulder and put it under the covers to scratch his calf. You missed the feeling of him over your shoulders, until he rested his hand on your upper knee.

You felt your entire body go hot until the end of the episode, when he took the blanket from off you both and supported himself on your thigh to get up from the couch, ‘accidentally’ giving it a light squeeze. You thought you were about to go insane and paused the TV, maybe it really was a Christmas booty call.

“I only have pepperoni, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you put it in the oven? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure.” He brushed his hand against your waist as he moved behind you to open the fridge.

“There’s Diet Coke, wine and orange juice.” He looked back at you.

“Wine.” You answered, watching him take the bottle out along with a can of Coke.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and moved next to him.

“I have to drive you home.” He smiled at you.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You smiled back at him.

“I can’t let you walk or uber home.” He put your hair behind your ear.

“I could crash here, if there’s space for me.” You almost whispered, looking at him doe eyed.

“There’s always space for you in my bed.” He stated, his voice low as he poured wine into both of the glasses.

He watched you take a sip and realized you were holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“This sucks.” You giggled softly. He took a sip from his glass and made a face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed “you have to blame Remus though, I don’t think I bought wine more than once in my entire life.” You smiled, remembering the bottle he brought to your house on your third date. He moved closer to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“I’m sorry about the wine.” He whispered and you felt his breathing against your face, you hummed and looked up at him, moving your hands to the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. He slowly leaned in, you could feel your heartbeat as he got closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours and then his phone’s alarm went off, scaring the both of you.

“The damn pizza” he muttered, turning off the oven but not taking the food out. You leaned against the counter and looked at James, who put his hands on your waist again, asking you “Where were we?”, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

You threw your hands over his neck as he hugged you so tightly that you thought maybe you both could merge into one.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Yeah?” He teased you and you hummed. “I missed you so much, love.” He started kissing your neck, holding you tightly by your lower waist.

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “Let me make it up to you, please.” You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you quickly.

“Use your words.” He muttered against your mouth and your breath hitched.

“Yes, please.” You replied and he brought his lips back against yours, this time you parted your mouth and he let his tongue slip into it. His lips moved hungrily against yours, the hands on your waist quickly moving to cup your ass firmly. Before you knew it, you were moving against him, glad you’d chosen to wear a skirt as breathy moans slipped from your lips against his.

All of a sudden James pulled his lips away from yours,

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in a second.” He said, pointing to the corridor.

You left the door open and sat on his bed, waiting for him. Everything was the same, except for the photograph of the both of you he had framed and left on his desk, which was now nowhere to be seen. He came into the room with something behind his back.

“I got this for you in November, in case we saw each other today. I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.” He handed you a black corduroy box, which had a gold necklace with a small heart pendant.

“Oh James, this is so pretty.” You looked at him smiling and closing the box and putting it on his nightstand “I’ll put it on later, thank you so much.”

“Let me make everything up to you, I truly am sorry.” He said, taking off his glasses and sitting in front of you on the bed. You put your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing him gently as he moved closer to you, his knee between your legs.

You laid down and his mouth started to make its way to your neck, giving it soft kisses then gently biting and sucking, making sure to leave a few marks. Meanwhile, his hands trailed their way to your breasts, going under your already loose bra and playing with your nipples. He quickly helped you take off your shirt, also removing his own.

James quickly kissed your mouth and started to trail small kisses from it to your right nipple, which he brought to his mouth and sucked on, nipping at it with his front teeth every once in a while, meanwhile his left hand stimulated your other nipple.

Your hands moved to his hair, stroking it and tugging on it every once in a while, leading to groans that would send vibrations to your breasts.

Suddenly, he pressed his knee against your damp underwear as you desperately tried to get more friction from it, until he held down your hips.

“Let me help you, baby.” he hummed against your chest. “I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

He helped you take off your skirt as you raised your hips, tossing it next to the bed and kissing your tummy, making his way down to your underwear, lowering it and kissing the skin right above your slit, almost where you needed him the most. He started to kiss your inner thighs, going up to your clothed core, pressing another kiss right on top of your covered clit, making you moan as he took off your panties, carefully placing them on top of your skirt on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath fanning against your pussy.

He started slowly at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, sucking it in the most careful way he could. Until you couldn’t hold back your moaning and you remembered how James Potter gave head like a starved man.

He held your thighs open as he sucked on your sensitive bud and fucked two fingers into you, making your back arch and causing you release the most incoherent sentences from your mouth, a mix of swearing, the word god and his name, but really, in that moment, the later two were probably the same to you.

Your hands tugged onto his hair as you reached your high, he looked up at you and kept stimulating your clit with his thumb, inserting a third finger into your hole.

“Cum for me, honey.” He said, sensing you were close to your high and going back to sucking your bud.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, squeezing his head in between your thighs as he carried you through your orgasm.

Once you were finished, James moved up to kiss you. His mouth moving hungrily against yours.

“I want you.” you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“You already have me, sweetheart.” He smiled, getting up to get something to clean you up with. You pulled him back by the wrist.

“No, I want you in me. Please. ‘Need more.” You said lowly, giving him a quick peck.

“You sure?” You knew he wanted it too, he just wanted to make you feel good and forget about himself for the rest of the night.

“Yes, please James.” You replied, pulling him by the wrist again once he went to reach for a condom in the nightstand drawer. “I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, please.”

He smiled, taking off his sweatpants and going on top of you, his knees pressed against the mattress next to your thighs as he kissed you, tilting your head to deepen it.

He started kissing your neck, giving soft pecks on the marks he had left behind earlier, while taking his length out of his underwear and lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you with his tip as you practically begged him to get inside of you.

“Patience, baby.” He muttered, slowly starting to thrust into your needy hole whilst pulling your right leg up and bending it, almost making your leg shin touch your thigh as he tried to go as deep as possible.

You couldn’t help but moan out his name once he started thrusting and kept hitting the most perfect spot he could whilst stimulating your bean with his thumb. You clenched around his cock as he started to thrust rapidly into you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.” He’d whisper in between grunts in your ear while you scratched his back in pleasure. “So- mhm so good for me, baby.” He said, his mouth clashing against yours, his tongue entering your mouth as you opened it. You clenched your pussy around him and you both can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths, his thrusts getting faster and his grunts and moans only louder, showing you how close he also is.

You felt your second orgasm building up as he pinched your clit and you squealed onto his tongue, your teeth clashing, causing him to pull away and smile against your mouth, his teeth against your lips.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered and you replied with a nod, your nose against his cheek. He thrusted quickly and made circular motions on your clit at the same pace. “Hm, cum for me baby, cum on my cock.” He commanded as you reached your second high, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy as he shot his load into you and you clenched around him, his thrusts faltering.

He collapsed right next to you, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table to look at you properly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, smiling as he stroked your hair. “Thank you for picking up. Thank you for being here. For everything.” He whispered.

“Thank you for calling.” You smiled.

“The pizza’s probably cold.” He muttered, looking at his bedroom door.

“I don’t care.” You gave him a peck. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

[readsaboutreid]

Permanent Solution | S.R.

cw: big big warning for suicidal ideation (first person POV so you get some of the full on thought spiraling) typical criminal minds violence (reader gets kidnapped by an unsub and tortured but it doesn’t get too descriptive), extreme angst, Morgan being a dick at first (I love him but he was the only person I could really see for the role he fills in the plot with his tell it like it is vibes) but he gets his redemption in pt 2 i promise

no request for this one i had a real bad day and needed to use my thought spiral in some sort of creative outlet to get myself out of it so i took it out on spencer and reader sorry in advance y'all

"None of us like you."

The words rattled around in my brain as I walked absent-mindedly, my destination already in the back of my mind. I hadn't made this walk in five months. The five months before that had been focused on reducing the number of times I took this path.

First, the goal had been to reduce the number of times I felt compelled to take this particular walk. Walks overall weren't out of the question, and were actually encouraged. Especially walks where I shared the company with someone else. But this specific one was different. It carried a different weight. The initial goal set with my therapist had been to reduce how often I walked this path from nearly every night to no more than two or three times a week, substituting it with a different path through a different and more active part of town. After that, the goal was to move to only walking this path once a week. Then, ideally, none at all.

Ten months. Ten months of twice-weekly therapy sessions down the drain. With five measly words. I started to wonder what Spencer would say if he knew where I was headed, but shook my head free of the thought. He'd be better off in the end, anyways. The wind bit into my cheeks and I tugged the green cardigan that hung loosely off my shoulders so that it was tighter around me, the only protection from the cold that seeped down into my bones. I began to walk faster as I shivered, trying anything I could to warm up my body even just a little bit, and thought back to the encounter from earlier that had caused me to spiral so suddenly and severely.

"—none of us like you," Morgan said to me, cutting me off right as I was attempting to defend my previous decision to turn down the previous drink night invitations in the twelve months since I'd been at the BAU, resulting in Spencer also turning them down and going home with me, instead for the last eleven out of twelve of those months. The expression on his face matched the complete and utter disdain dripping from each and every word. "Not even Hotch, who got you the job in the first place, seems to want you on the team anymore. The only person who ever wants you to be around is Reid, and none of us can figure out why." When he finished I took a look around the table to see everyone else just looking down and avoiding my gaze, including Penelope, who had become somewhat of a sister to me in the past year.

"You—," my voice caught in my throat at that point and I cleared it, trying to sound as steady as I could as I asked, "A-all of you share this sentiment?" Despite strength I had tried to muster to ask that question, my voice only came out thick and wavery, and it was all I could do to keep my lip and lower jaw from trembling. I had tried as hard as possible to overcome myself since starting at the BAU, to believe that the people around me genuinely enjoyed my presence and didn't secretly roll their eyes and sigh in relief when I left the room, but apparently I had failed to make them like me and that's exactly what they felt.

"You'll have to excuse me, please," I gasped as the information presented to me sank in. I then stood, my eyes swimming with tears, and ran from the table they had all situated themselves into at the bar, only to run head on into Spencer, who grabbed my by the shoulders with a soft laugh and gentle smile.

"Easy there, (Y/N)," he chuckled while steadying me. It was only then that he realized something was wrong and his smile was immediately replaced with a concerned frown. "Hey, what's wrong, angel?" I shook my head, shook free of his grasp, and kept making for the door, my head slowing down a bit as I finally was able to take in a breath of fresh air as I made it outside.

Spencer hastily followed after me, right at my heels. "(Y/N)! (Y/N), wait!" He called after me, pushing his way through the crowd and finally out the door as well before wrapping me tightly in his arms. "Hey, now, what's wrong, love?" He cooed as he pressed my head into his chest and wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders when he felt me tremble.

I hesitated, debating what to say to him. I could either tell him the truth and earn the further ire of our colleagues by snitching or I could do what I do best: blow every thing up so there would be nobody else to blame but myself. I opted for the latter.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I finally managed to force the words from my throat. Each one stabbed into my chest with the force of a dull butter knife. "I— th-this—," I stumbled, "th-this isn't working, Spencer." My voice was barely above a whisper by the end when I finally met his eyes, which quickly filled with tears at hearing my words.

"Wh-what?" The word came out as nothing more than a breath but within it I swear I could hear the crack in his chest that echoed the one in my own. "Why— wh-what— I don't— where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry," I said through soft sobs before I turned and ran off, leaving him standing on the sidewalk with tears slowly beginning to fall down his cheeks.

I had broken his heart, ensuring that he, too, would hate me. That was the plan. I had to push him away and make him hate me as much as the rest of them so that it would hurt him less when they found me. I made the last turn and found myself at my destination - the 11th Street bridge.

Spencer stood on the sidewalk, staring after her long after she had disappeared around the corner up ahead. He ran through the events of the past hour, trying to figure out what he could have done.

"You can go without me, Spencer," she protested as he tried to convince her to go out for drink night with the rest of the team.

"Please come with me? It will be fun, I promise!" It was a strange reversal for him to be the one trying to coax someone else into going out. Usually it was Morgan trying to convince him to go out (Garcia had literally forced him to go out with her after a particularly rough case or two), but now he decided to pay it forward to get his girlfriend to come out with their team and have some much needed fun. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"What if they don't actually want me there?" She asked, her voice small and timid.

"That's ridiculous! Why wouldn't they want you there? You're amazing," he smiled at her, starting to pepper her face with kisses in an attempt to cheer her up. She giggled quietly, not really trying as she made to push him away. He continued his assault, kissing her cheeks, forehead, nose, and lips, over and over with light pecks. When she finally acquiesced, he was giddy with excitement and felt a swell of pride in his chest at the progress she had made since they met.

As they stepped out of his car he grabbed her hand and saw her face twist with anxiety. He gave her hand a soft, reassuring squeeze before his phone rang, the number for the mental facility his mother currently resided in showing on the screen. "I need to take this, head on inside and I'll be right there, okay angel?" She swallowed nervously and walked inside, and he took the call.

5 minutes and 29 seconds.

That's how long he had been on the phone. Whatever had happened had taken only 5 minutes and 29 seconds. And it ended his relationship.

Spencer found himself pushing the door open and walking back inside the bar. His blood rushed in his ears as he approached the table and stared at all of his coworkers.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the music.

"Reid," Morgan started, but Spencer cut him off. "Don't look at us like th—"

"Whatever was said in the 5 minutes and 29 seconds I was on the phone with my mother's hospital resulted in me getting dumped on the sidewalk outside when not even 30 minutes ago (Y/N) was laughing, and smiling, and happy. So what. Happened?" He seethed.

"Alright, you want to know what happened, Reid?" Morgan snapped, preparing to stand up and tell him off before being stopped by Penelope, who looked as though she was still on the verge of tears. 

“Reid, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she stood up instead, standing in front of Spencer. “I should have stopped him,” she continued, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have let him talk to her like that.” 

“What did he tell her?” Spencer turned to Garcia, interrupting Derek as he opened his mouth to interject. 

“I told her the truth,” Morgan slurred, finishing off what the rest of them knew was his fourth glass of whiskey. Spencer opted to ignore his clearly drunk colleague and continued to address Garcia. 

“Garcia, what did he say to my girlfriend?” Spencer insisted, his anger being slowly replaced by a sense of growing dread. 

“He— he told her nobody wanted her around,” she admitted, her eyes closing and her face twisting with guilt before she hastily added, “which of course that’s not the case! I love (Y/N) like she’s my own sister...” Spencer felt his heart drop into the pit that had become his stomach as his fears were confirmed.  

“But?” Spencer added, tilting his head to the side, his voice growing quieter as the conversation continued. 

“...but the rest of us miss you, Spence,” JJ finally spoke up. “We haven’t seen you in ages outside of work! If she’s keeping you from spending time with your friends, that's a little bit of a red flag, isn't it?” She reasoned, standing to put a hand on his bicep to calm him.  

He angrily shook her off, the anxiety coursing through his veins shifting back into an icy rage. “She hasn’t kept me from doing anything, Jennifer,” he spat through gritted teeth as he held her gaze, which was a mix of shock and hurt at his tone.  

“Spence, I just meant that—” JJ started, but was immediately interrupted by Spencer, whose rage was steadily growing to the point where he was certain he was visibly trembling. 

“In fact, she has been continually insisting that I leave her behind to come out with you all, but given that I don’t drink much to begin with I usually just opt for a night in with her. I didn’t realize I needed permission from the rest of the team to make that decision for myself,” he bit back before turning to leave. 

“Where are you going, Reid? Reid! Come on, man, be reasonable!” Morgan called out, only for Spencer to ignore him and keep walking. If he stayed there any longer, he knew he would end up saying something he’d regret, and with the way most of them were talking about his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—he figured they’d find some way to blame her for his outburst if he did.

When he finally exited the bar, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist and he turned on his heel, preparing for another round of arguing, only to be met with the now tear-streaked cheeks of Penelope Garcia. 

“What do you want, Garcia?” He snapped, his face softening as he took in her apologetic expression. 

“I— I’m sorry, Spencer,” she whispered. “I should have told Derek to shut up, I’m so sorry! I just— I hate when the people I love start fighting like that! I shut down and— and I know I should have stood up for her but I just— I just froze like a coward and—” her voice grew more frantic and upset before Spencer cut her off. 

“Garcia, it’s not your fault,” Spencer sighed, his anger fading away until the only thing he felt was the ache in his chest. “Derek was drunk and belligerent. You’re not responsible for his actions.” He paused as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just wish I could have been there to put a stop to it. She’s so sweet, and kind, and utterly terrified of people. I shouldn’t have sent her in by herself knowing that." His voice cracked as a fresh wave of tears started to fall down his own cheeks. 

“Spencer, you had no way of knowing any of this would happen,” Penelope wrapped Spencer in a tight hug, and he finally broke down. His body shook gently with soft, nearly silent sobs and he cried into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I know how much you love her.” Garcia’s own voice cracked as her heart ached for the crying boy in her arms.  

“Wh— what do I do, Penelope?” He mumbled into the sleeve of her sweater. “I just want to help her feel better.” That’s all he’d wanted since he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d never forget how emaciated she had looked, her skin pallid and her eyes nothing more than dim, lifeless pits with dark bruise-like rings underneath them.  

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Dr. (Y/L/N). She just graduated from the academy and has expertise in psycholinguistics as well as a doctorate in neuropsychology, so I have no doubt she’ll be an excellent addition to the team.”

Spencer had tried his hardest in the two months after that initial introduction to get to know her, to understand why she looked like a reanimated corpse (albeit a very beautiful one) who had just wandered out of a morgue. Over those two months, the two of them had grown closer and closer, thanks to much insistent pushing from him. At first, it came in the form of attempting to get her to join the rest of them for drinks at their bar of choice (the others would never invite her themselves but Spencer would insist to her that it was okay, that she was a part of the team), but quickly he realized that all might be a bit too much for her. So, one night, he told the team he wasn’t feeling up to going out and instead privately asked (Y/N) if she’d want to join him for pizza and a movie at his place since he wasn't feeling up to big crowds and he had a feeling neither was she. He had been prepared to be turned down but was pleasantly surprised when her face showed the slightest expression of piqued interest and she agreed.

He then started to skip out on pretty much all of the future invitations to go out for drinks with the rest of the team, opting instead to go home for pizza and Doctor Who or Star Trek marathons with her, and he started seeing a whole other side to her that no one else had even suspected could have existed. She’d slowly opened to him, occasionally letting out quiet and restrained laughs at his goofy jokes and puns at the beginning of their friendship.

Eventually, those soft titters grew into ebullient, beautiful laughs that were like music to his ears. Her smiles went from being forced and never meeting her eyes to lighting up her entire face, at times so brightly that Spencer swore she could illuminate a dark room with nothing but her smile. She showed that there was a side to her that was goofy, outgoing, and full of life.

It was around then (November 17 at 11:57 PM) that their relationship had started officially with a soft, tentative kiss goodnight; but from the very first time he heard her let out a soft, breathy giggle at his goofy joke about Spock having three ears (‘a left ear, a right ear, and a final front-ier!’), Spencer knew that he would marry her someday.

Or at least he had thought so, until tonight.  

“Give her some space to sort out her emotions, Spencer,” the voice of Penelope Garcia in his ear dragged him back into the present, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. “She loves you more than anything, and we both know that.” She let go and gave him a teary smile before wiping her cheeks.  

“You’re right,” he replied, taking in another deep, shuddering breath. “Plus, she walked away with my cardigan, and we both know she’s a stickler about returning borrowed clothing!” He attempted a joke, but the laugh he tried to give after cracking it came out more like another choked sob.  

“If I were you, I’d just give her a quick phone call and let her know that you love her no matter what anyone else says or thinks, okay? She needs to know that more than she needs anything else right now.”  

“Right. Yes, you’re right,” he muttered, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “Thank you, Penelope.” 

“I’m always here for you, Spencer,” she smiled at him before adding, “both of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go tear Agent Morgan a new asshole for getting you dumped and hurting my best friend.” She took a second to shake her head and rub her own cheeks to dry them. “Call me once she makes it home safely to you, okay? Promise?” He nodded quietly. “Uh-uh-uh, what was it that one kid had told you a while back? ‘A promise doesn’t count unless you say it out loud,’ right?” 

“I promise,” Spencer felt a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He then walked down the block to his car, got in, and drove home to wait for (Y/N).  

When he arrived and had walked through the doorway, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang four times and then went to her voicemail.  

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Dr. (Y/L/N), I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as I am able. Thanks!” Beep. 

“Hi, (Y/N). So, Penelope filled me in on everything that happened,” he began shakily, and took a deep breath before he continued. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to stop Morgan from saying all of that, but please, please know that no one hates you, I promise. Penelope assured me that she was going to tear him a new one for what he said, and I promised her that I’d call her once you made it home safely.” He paused, searching for his next words carefully, and settled on, “I love you so much, angel. Please, please never forget that.” And then he had to hang up the phone, his eyes filling with more tears.  

He made his way to the couch and sat down, turning the TV on and finding a marathon of Buffy the Vampire Slayer playing. Knowing it was her favorite show, he left it on and patiently waited. On the couch sat a small stuffed cat with a blue and white spotted mushroom for a head that he had gifted her on a whim, Dr. Mewshroom, as she had taken to calling it. He grabbed Dr. Mewshroom and hugged it close to his chest as he leaned back on the couch and eventually dozed off. 

I paced up and down the 11th Street bridge for an hour before I decided to hop up and sit on the railing. My walking had warmed me up significantly, so I shed the cardigan Spencer had wrapped around my shoulders. Hopefully, it would be returned to him when they eventually found me. I stared down into the dark water beneath my dangling feet and tried to find the courage within me to jump, but I couldn’t give myself the final push I needed, just like all of the previous times I’d made this trip.  

I must have sat there for fifteen more minutes or so before I decided to give it up and go home to Spencer. Maybe, if I begged and pleaded with him, he’d take me back. I checked my phone to see that I had a missed call from him. Weird, I hadn’t even heard it ring. Before I could turn myself around to hop off the railing, I was grabbed from behind and a cloth was pressed to my mouth and nose, blocking me from screaming. My nose and throat filled with a burning sensation before everything faded to black... 

[writing-makes-me-human]

Charming Killer: 2

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART THREE

Summary: Neteyam confronts his fears of the scientists compound in his attempts to reach you. He’s all over you the second he see’s you and while you don’t really know what he’s saying it doesn’t fail to have an effect on you.

Warnings: I basically turned him into a cat unintentionally. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I did not proof read this very well cause I was working on multiple fics then realised I had nothing to post! She’s as good as it gets rn kids sorry.

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

A week had passed since Neteyam had dropped you off at the laboratories on the outskirts of his village, and a lot had happened since then.

After Neteyam left, you were escorted into the premises by Max, who turned you over to Norm for fixing.

Norm had patched your arm up with gauze paired with a paste made from the wilds of Pandora, and he was delighted to finally put a face to the voice he had been hearing through the comlink for over a year.

The consensus from everyone was that you had been lucky Neteyam had found you. The bullet hadn't passed through your lower arm, and with a quick extraction, you were on the road to healing, surrounded by the reasonably happy group of rebel scientists you had been feeding information to from the compounds of the RDA these past months.

As your arm healed, you grew closer to Max and helped him run the station as much as he would let you when you weren't meant to be resting. This still left a lot of time in the day, so you started to shadow either Max or Norm and tried asking as much as possible about the Na'vi people as you learned the trades needed to keep the station afloat.

You had built up a routine for day-to-day life, and while it was boring, helping the native people and their planet is what you had risked your life for. It's why you wouldn't see Earth again, and it's why you were here.

The mundane work was mostly upkeeping the lab from weather and fixing any technical issues you were qualified for. Still, occasionally, Norm would let you discern things he had brought back from outside while he had been in his avatar. It made your heart sink as you knew that no matter what, you couldn't go back out there with the threat of everything being nearly twice as significant as you and twice as deadly.

Norm was actively showing off his hobby of teaching now, and it felt awkward to have this heavy feeling in your chest while Norm looked like a kid in a candy store as he held up the flower to you and pointed out the different attributes and what they were used for with a pair of tweezers.

You nodded and occasionally asked questions, but this quiet learning moment was interrupted when Max tore into the room with sweat running across his forehead. He must have sprinted across the entire compound.

"We have an issue", he finally managed to gasp out, and you immediately turned to Norm, who, as swiftly as he could, placed down the flower onto the sterilized tray behind him and set off after Max with you in tow.

"What's the matter?" Norm nervously asked as his eyes darted around, seeing the rest of the human residents were somewhat uneasily watching you three nearly sprint to the opening hatch that led to the vast plains of Pandora.

"Y/n, you've got a guest", Max coughed out with an awkward laugh as your eyes widened in curiosity.

Your trio rushed to reach the containment hallway, which was the only barrier between your oxygenated environment and the deadly poisonous gasses of the alien planet.

All of you were entirely out of breath once you approached the spot, and you could feel your arm cry out as you stepped inside the room just outside of the airlock.

Your eyes widened in happiness as you saw your savior awkwardly taking a device that was attached to his side and bringing it to his face. Neteyam took a deep breath with his eyes shut before his eyes fluttered open again and immediately found you a few feet in front of him.

A few scientists below him tried to advise him of a few safety briefings in Na'vi so he didn't go around smacking things over. Still, he completely turned a blind eye to them and he stepped over the woman who yelled out for him to come back. Neteyam happily ignored her as he shuffled towards your more petite figure with a grin. Norm and Max backed up immediately as the giant man came towards them.

Neteyam placed a hand on the roof to steady himself before he lowered himself to speak with you face to face. You smiled as his bright yellow eyes connected with yours, enjoying the familiar connection after so long apart.

"Neteyam!" You yelled out and leaped forward to give him a polite hug of endearment around his waist. Your touch immediately knocked the air out of him, forcing him to pick up the device again and lift the clear plastic mask to his mouth in order to get more of his indigenous air into his lungs.

After you pulled back, he responded by saying your name to you with a quirk in his ears as a sound in one of the distant labs caught his sense's attention.

You laughed merrily and then turned around to see that everyone was eyeing you both with astonishment. Perhaps being so friendly with the Na'vi had been a bit odd, but he had saved your life after all, and how were you supposed to know that this was the first time any of the scientists had seen Neteyam allow a sky person other than Spider to touch him? Even though on several occasions it was quite literally life or death.

"Uh, can you guys give us the room?" Max called to the other two foreign researchers in the room in hazmat suits.

They wasted no time in nodding and taking off, shutting the metal door behind them with the selected password to prevent any outbreaks. None of the regulars were used to seeing this son of Jake Sully's, and it was clear they were more than happy to steer clear from the hunter.

The silence that followed the departure was unnerving, and you felt the tension in the room spike as you spotted Neteyam's deadly longbow laid across the table behind him, probably at the demands of the other two who had greeted him at the door.

"So, uh, why are you here?" You asked, feeling the duo pair of eyeballs burning into the back of your head intensify as you continued speaking to Neteyam.

He understood your words and replied in Na'vi, which made you purse your lips as you nodded your head to show you had heard him before awkwardly turning to Norm, motioning for him to tell you what the boy had said.

Norm stuttered over his words for a minute before he replicated the sentence in English.

"He said he missed you and asked if that was a good enough reason", Norm's delivery lacked the mischievous twinkle in Neteyam's eye, but you paired the two together and grinned.

The warrior obviously had a sense of humor when lives weren't at stake, and it made you happy to learn more about the young man. He gazed around the room for a second before he seemed to register Max and Norm's presence, making himself nod at them respectfully before he returned to stare back at your body.

You were utterly at a loss for what to say. The angry man who had first seen you in the woods not long ago was banished from sight, and in his place was this smiley man that still had the means to kill you but had sought you out to simply say hello.

His eyes sparked, and he turned to his hip, digging his hand into a burlap sack he had attached there before he produced his closed fist and held it to you, watching your face peek in interest as his tail flickered madly behind him, hitting the metal walls.

You couldn't help the engrossment you felt, so just as Max was calling out for you to be careful, you pressed your significantly smaller hand into Neteyam's, and in response, he let his hand unfurl to present you with a gift.

It was a red stone that looked like a moving body of water had tumbled it for a long time. The rock shone under the heavy-duty lights above you, and with a timid move, you reached forward and picked it up from his hands, smiling as you thanked him for the gift.

He watched you admire it in your hands as you held it up to the light and stared at it in wonder. Neteyam could get used to amazing you like this.

He leaned one hand on his knee and the other on the floor to steady himself as he gazed at you with wide pupils that tried to take in all of your beauty.

You held the gift to your chest and bowed your head at him, delighting as he copied you without hesitation.

His smile faltered and transformed into an embarrassed throat clearing as his ears fluttered backward. He took his eyes off your figure and stared at the ceiling as his nose sniffed at the air as it had done upon his first meeting with you.

You thought back to the invasive manhandling he had done to you, and in response, you felt a heavy blush consume your face. You bashfully looked at the stone in your hand to avoid Neteyam seeing your face and reading your movements. You turned the beautiful blood-red stone over a few times before slipping it into your pocket and letting the weight drag the fabric of your pants.

Neteyam eyed the individuals behind you with a frown but chose to disregard them. He pressed himself closer to the ground to whisper something to you. He placed his head in front of your plunged face, which was determined not to look up to his eyes, and he softly mumbled something that made your blush deepen.

"Smell you?" His articulation was terrible, but the words still translated to you either way.

If he was being honest, the only reason he hadn't swept you up into his arms the second he saw you was because of the audience he was facing, but your fragrance was once again outpowering his freewill. He desperately needed to feel the fizz you activated in him before he went feral and ripped your clothes off to smell every inch of you.

You glanced behind yourself at Norm and Max, who were both still at a loss for words, but it seemed they were becoming more accepting of your friendship as you spent long minutes basking in one another's presence.

You swallowed nervously but nodded your consent to his touching.

His ears revived back up as he smiled smugly. He adjusted his body so he was sitting crossed-legged in front of you, his knees pressed against the sides of the short hallway, but he didn't care, instead, he focused on your facial expression as you very slightly looked to your left, allowing him a view of your neck.

He slowly inched towards you, giving you plenty of time to pull back and change your mind, but when you didn't, he moved forward, brushed his nose against your bare neck and rejoiced at the fact you still smelt just as strong as you did in his dreams.

He was nearly salivating at the scent, and he selfishly pushed himself deeper into your neck, letting his face push you around slightly while his body shivered at the properties of your touch.

He was doing everything he could not to let his hands roam around your body and investigate where you smelt sweetest, but his euphoric daydreaming was ruined by the sound of Max speaking to you in English.

When you answered back, he felt a sharp electric zap of possessiveness power through him. You were his mate, you weren't meant to be speaking to other men, and you were certainly not told to talk to other single men.

Neteyam growled something over your shoulder to Max and then picked you up gently and rose you to his body so he could set you on his lap. He placed your back against his chest and let his hands entrap your waist to ensure you kept still.

You yelped a little as you suddenly felt your feet leave the ground. Then you let out an 'oof' as Neteyam sat you on his thigh, allowing you to face the other men in the room as he mindlessly returned to bury his head into your neck, forcing your head to an unnatural angle as you nervously chuckled.

"Friendly guy, huh?" You asked the science geeks, but they were both looking at each other with scandalized stares, both more shocked than you had ever seen.

Neteyam’s grip on your waist tightened as he found a hotspot of sweat that was pooling in your neck. The sweet aroma nearly knocked him out with the jolt of pleasure it sent directly to his brain.

Max's jaw dropped while Norm let out an unbelieving chuckle, pointing to your two entangled bodies with an open hand and then back to Max as if to ask what was happening. If it was a competition between who was more aghast, you weren't sure who won.

"This isn't uh...this isn't a greeting used for friends y/n", Max tried to explain while beating around the bush as Norm was still unable to form a single word in English or Na'vi.

Your brow creased in confusion, but then you felt canines gently nip at your neck, and you squeaked as your hand flew up and grabbed onto Neteyam's forearm before you growled out his name in anger at his unchecked drunken actions.

Neteyam's hot breath fanned your neck as he grumbled out another line that nobody had translated to you yet, which worked to push you closer to the edge of frustration.

"What is he saying?" You asked as you squirmed away from his touch, only to have him drag you back into him and gently kiss your neck, making you scream as you let go of your motor functions and thrashed him off.

He pulled his head back with a scowl before once again he said something and let one hand off your waist so he could lightly pull your head back by your hair, allowing him access to freely rub his cheek around your jugular. You choked out at his harsh movements, but neither Norm nor Max seemed too concerned for your safety.

He rubbed his skin against your neck, and for a second, you swore you heard the deep rumbling of a purr thundering across the hallway, but Neteyam quickly cut it off with an embarrassed cough.

"He's uh, well, he's saying a lot", Max was even more flustered than you as he turned to Norm and nodded for him to take over the translation.

"He's trying to tell us to stay away, he's trying to scent you", Norm found his voice, and if you couldn't see the shock and slightly affronted stare he was holding with you through Neteyam's braids, you would have almost thought you were back in the lab and he was explaining the biology of the flower to again.

"Well, can you tell the knucklehead to knock it off?" You huffed with a provoked tinge to your voice as Neteyam let your hair go and returned to his original spot in the crook of your neck.

You would never admit it, not even on your deathbed, but the touch was welcome as his warm skin brushed against you and sent ravenous desire through your soul. The fact you had your colleagues standing in front of you as Neteyam touched you so intimately was really the only problem.

"Do you want us to lose a limb?" Norm tried to joke, but you didn't appreciate his humor.

The feeling of a hot, wet, velvety tongue being dragged from the base of your neck to your jaw made you whine, and the two older men's eyes snapped to Neteyam as you finally decided you had enough of being humiliated.

You ripped yourself from his grip and snapped your head to stare at him angrily, but he only chuckled and his deep voice rumbled through your core as another line came from his mouth. You had no idea what he said, but his hooded eyes and loving smirk tightened your core with a lustful tug.

You spun around again and let your rage spill over.

"Somebody better tell me what he's saying right now before I go crazy!" You yelled. Neteyam let his hands depart from your body and gave you the room to jump from his grip so you could stand with your back to him.

Norm stuck his hands up in mock surrender and shook his head.

"I'm not translating that one", he leaned over and smacked Max on the back for support.

The older man choked on his breath and stumbled to find the right words as Neteyam hungrily eyed your back in front of him.

"He's calling you his muntxa...his mate", Max looked fortified at his words and instantly dropped your gaze as you felt yourself cease entirely to exist.

You turned sharply towards Neteyam, and suddenly the gift, the smelling and the scenting all made sense. You could feel everything in you turn red with blush as you started wildly shaking your head and waving your hands above your head in an 'x' shape which yanked his wandering eyes back to your face.

"No muntxa! No thank you! Find a pretty Na'vi woman, okay? I'm not interested!" You shouted each word louder as if somehow he would be able to understand you if your speech became more pronounced.

"That's not how it works, you can't just turn him down" Norm tried to explain from behind you with an amused huff as Neteyam stared at your outburst in confusion.

He understood most of what you said, but why would you turn him down if you were his mate? There was no questioning that you were his because everything about you was made to draw him in, but it was clear you weren't happy.

His tail paused midair behind him, and he brought it forwards, testing how angry you were by letting the tip of the limb lay by your foot.

You stared down at his tail in curiosity. You let its presence leave your mind as you turned around and asked what exactly you had to do in order to get Neteyam to understand that you couldn't have been his mate because you weren't even the same species. But then you felt the whip-like extremity slowly curl its tip around your ankle.

You went to kick it off, but the tail only slithered further up until it was snugly wrapped around your thigh.

Neteyam's heart sang out as you looked down at the tail without movement, and while in reality, you were too shocked to move, he took it as acceptance and let his large hands creep over to gently grab you again.

"No, Neteyam!" You sternly yelled as his fingers barely grasped your waist.

He let out a long groan as if he were a child being denied a treat by his mother. He couldn't possibly see what the issue was. He pulled his tail back and spoke directly to the human men for the first time since his arrival.

"Why is she so mad, huh? Tell her I'm a good choice for a mate", he couldn't wrap his head around your stubborn unwillingness to let his hands roam where they pleased, and your denial was starting to vex him.

You listened closely as Max translated the interaction between Neteyam and Norm while they spoke to each other in Na'vi.

"It's not that she think's you're a bad choice, she just doesn-", Neteyam's impatience cut off Norm.

"Good, then she can be my mate", he truly saw no issue and was at a loss as to why you weren't all over him in the same manner.

Sure, you were human, and maybe it was odd, but over the week he had been apart from you, he had never felt so lonely, and that loneliness had fueled his courage to take his first steps into the laboratory. He wanted to see you and maybe even take you outside if that was what you wanted, but it was clear you were still getting used to him for now.

"Neteyam, she doesn't know anything about--", Norm was beginning to irritate him, and Neteyam looked over to you as he spoke his following words.

"I will teach her, she will learn", Neteyam didn't care if you didn't know anything. It wasn't of any issue to him.

He would have to protect you with everything he had to keep you safe outside. He wanted you close, and saving you would keep him busy, just how he wanted to be.

Neteyam left the conversation with Norm, much to the scientist's annoyance, and shuffled closer to you, forcing you to stare up at Neteyam as he stared down at you.

"If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but I won't ever come back and you won't see me again", his words were empty, and he knew it, but his hopes were that you wouldn't catch onto his poker face and you would answer in his favor.

Norm took a turn translating for you with a sigh as he knew that Neteyam was lying. The bond between mates was too much to abandon, and while Neteyam had clearly found his points of interest in you, it seemed to be that you hadn't latched onto any intoxicating part of him as quickly.

Your face fell into sadness at the idea of never seeing him again, but you drew your lips closed in thought, trying to debate what exactly to say.

Neteyam took your silence coldly and scoffed as he shook his head in doubt before he turned to leave, but you quickly jumped up and grabbed onto the end of his braid that had nearly smacked you in the face with his momentum.

"Don't leave!" You cried out while the men behind you gasped and quickly called out for you to drop the end of the knot, which you promptly acted in compliance with.

It was Neteyam's turn to freeze at your touch. You could feel that you had done something wrong, so you went to apologize, but when Neteyam's eyes met yours, it was as if he had love hearts in place of his eyes.

He went back to ignoring Max and Norm's attendance as he pushed himself to the floor and gently approached you with open hands so he could snatch you back up and return to his favorite place; your neck.

He didn't stick around long though, and after a quick fill-up of his addiction, he replaced you. He turned to Max to toss a comment at him before he stood up and jogged over to his bow before he swiftly departed as you called out to him, letting out apology after apology in fear it was your touch that had scared him off.

"I'm sorry! Look, I didn't know! Come back here! Ugh, you can't keep your hands off me when I tell you off, and then you won't come near me when I say I'm sorry? What is with you?" You yelled out, but nothing could stop the man as he ducked his head out of the door and set off to close the airlock behind himself.

"I'm confused, what did I do?" You cried out as you spun around, seeking answers, but Max only chuckled at you as he took his glasses off to wipe them on his lab coat.

"He's not mad, he said he has to go hunting for you, it's a Na'vi courting ritual, they bring you as much as they think you're worth in food", he acted as if this was a regular thing to say while you just shook your head in bemusement.

"He realizes I probably can't eat half the stuff out there, right?" You craned your neck to see the young man had already turned tail and was nowhere to be found.

"We'll have to see because there is no doubt he's coming back for you."

:Series 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁:

@faatxma, @nao-cchi @ellabellabus07, @neteyamforlife @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @heesoftiefreak @lixiesbrowniess  @eringaitskill @islamovice17 @sassy-persona @mashiromochi @jkeluv​ @uwu-i-purple-you​

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for pretending I cheated on my partner when our common friend asked why we fought?

It will sound fake and fictional, but please bear with me because I'm getting crazy over it. And also sorry for any english mistake, we're not from an english speaking country.

To give some context: I am a man. There was this person, B(m), which whom I kind of grew up with. We went through the same schools from our 6 years old to 17 but we never were really friends. Then, around our 13, I got into a clique that fed into all my bad habits and I started to actively bully B because he seemed like an easy target at the time. I enjoyed it and was encouraged to do so (because I was such an asshole and I'm not even cringing thinking about it, it's worse. I regret it so much and I was a stupid and bad teenager). It was so bad that after years of enduring it, B changed school before we graduated and I went on with my life.

It' was's been about 15 years ago that I graduated.

In the meantime, I dealt with some problems that I had with my family and I went through intensive therapy which changed me for the better, and I came to terms with my sexuality as well.

Flashforward to 2019/2020, I meet with someone online through some games and it goes very well. Thanks to the Covid and the lockdowns, we play even more and get closer. At some point, I talk about an event happening close to my city, and he tells me that he knows about it as well and that we're living close to each other. Because we enjoyed our time online (ngl, we had started flirting although I didn't know how sincere it was) we decided to meet at that event.

And there, I find out that my online friend is B. It's extremely awkward but only for me because he cannot recognize me for three reasons: 1. I changed physically with my puberty finally finishing the job after my 18 birthday, and I found some love into dying my hair. 2. I changed in terms of personality thanks to the therapy I went through. 3. My legal name was changed when I said goodbye to this fucking family of mine and left without turning back (but I was getting sick just saying my last name).

I, obviously, didn't tell him anything about who I really was because I just wanted to enjoy that evening with a friend, and we didn't see each other since he left high school because of me. My plan was just to slowly distance myself from him after that evening but it failed because we had a lot of fun and we actually really hit off and I was dying constantly at the idea that he could find out.

We've been in a relationship sicne the beginning of 2021 and I was decided to just never tell him (horrifying idea I know, anyone with a braincell would have told me that it was bound to be found).

A month ago, I met with an old friend from high school (so yeah, he was in the bullying gang but more of a followers, so we stayed in friendly terms when we both agreed that it was bad) and as he recognized B, he decided to excuse himself and hoped that B would forgive him like he "forgave" me (I never got to tell that friend to shut up about that) so yeah, B found out that I was his main bully who had lied to him for almost 4 years now.

We had quite a big talk about it. How bad my bullying ended up for B; why I lied like that and never admitted it. And even if it went alright, B told me that he needed a break to think about things and it's going to be one month that I'm crashing at a common friend of us. At first, I just said that B and I got into a fight and it was good enough, but as it's been already a month, the friend asked more about it. Not wanting to bring up B's trauma to someone else (especially after our conversation), I just told the first lie that came to me and pretended that I cheated on B and he found out.

Now that common friend is calling me an asshole and keeps reminding me how much they are disappointed in me to have done something so horrifying to B. I keep wondering if I did well to lie like that, or if I should have found another way out.

[hyunjinsjeans]

Baby Brain (Seungmin x Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Seungmin has to suffer with his pabo members… and now also his pabo wife.

Type: Fluff 🧸, SFW 

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, proofreading to a minimum (it’s my thing, I’m sorry)

Word count: 2569

AN: This fic is a part 2 to Seungmin’s version of the He Knows Series. It can also be read as a stand alone. I took my precious time with this one because I guess my period played games with me and the first versions were angsty af… And that was not the vibe I wanted for my man Kim Seungmin. I think I finally got it, and also huge spoiler for Hyunjin’s part 2 (which is posted too!)

Seungmin sighed as he let Choon-Hee paint his toenails pink and yellow. 

He was really working on his patience lately. You sat across from him on the carpet in the living room while Nari “did” your hair. 

The Hwang twins, or “dumpling girls” (as the boys called them), were happy to spend the afternoon with you and your husband. A little break for their parents to be able to go on a date alone, and a good practice for what was about to come for you.

“Ready!” 

Nari walked around you with a bright smile on her face as she saw the long braid she managed to make with your silky hair. 

“Already? Wow!” You smiled and reached for the hand mirror to see her work. “You did so good, Nari! Look, Minnie!”

He looked up at you, for a second his sight leaving Choon-Hee to find you. Initially, he did not like the idea of babysitting a set of three year old twins, but these two girls were pretty easy to manage and to please. 

“Woah!” He pretended to be stunned. 

In a way he was… Your hair, although maintaining its pregnancy glow and thickness, looked a lot like a bird’s nest. A true 3-year-old masterpiece. 

You giggled, you knew it was a horrible mess with tangles and odd twists… but you enjoyed indulging the little ones. 

Seungmin was able to see it; your motherly instincts were beginning to take over slowly. As the months began passing and your pregnancy became more evident, so did the signs of your body and mind getting ready become more evident as well. 

From the baby bump that grew in a slow but steady manner, to the way you began fixing and arranging things at home, making sure the nursery was ready, preparing spaces for the baby and worrying more and more about Seungmin too. 

Your husband only agreed to babysit for Hyunjin because you had already agreed to babysit for Hyunjin!Reader.

The afternoon went by in a blur as you sat with the girls to play and watch cartoons, Seungmin had to be the most responsible adult at home, seeing as your baby bump had begun to keep you from being too active. 

He prepared snacks and handed each of the girls (you included) a small bowl with crackers and baby carrots. 

“Thank you!” You and the twins said in unison, much to Seungmin’s amusement. 

At that point your husband realized he was now watching three girls. Poor Seungmin spent the rest of the afternoon watching you too. Keeping you safe while you decide to do little little somersaults with the girls on the living room carpet. 

The truth was that you had a lot of time on your hands lately. Since you found out for sure that you were pregnant thanks to the lab test, you have been a cause of concern for your husband… With all the pregnancy symptoms and the planning for the nursery, you decided to give in to Seungmin’s request of taking things slow. You reduced your hours at the hospital; working only part time. It was supposed to be like that until you went on leave but as things rarely ever go as planned you ended up developing some complications during the second trimester. Doctor’s best advice? Rest. And so you rested; you talked to your boss and you took time off from work. Now you are at home full time, spending most of your time reading medical journals or parenting books. Shopping online for what might be necessary for your little boy once he was born. 

Most of all, what you did during your free time was visit Seungmin and the boys during their dance practice and rehearsals. They would be dancing and you would sit with Han!Reader and both would marvel at everything and anything her small Haerin would do. Sometimes Hyunjin!Reader would be there too, her girls already went to kindergarten so she would have the morning’s to herself either to work or run errands. 

For your husband’s delight, anytime you and Hyunjin!Reader got together, it meant he would have to keep an eye on you. Even without her, the second you began joking with Lee Know and Hyunjin it was bad news for him.

You did not know it, or maybe you had heard it at some point… but you were considered by the boys as an honorary member of paboracha. You would dance with the boys, attempting to follow their dance moves but most of the time you would get tangled up and trip. Now you were pregnant and almost at the end of your second trimester, your brain was just not in it with you. 

Seungmin found you looking for your glasses while you were already wearing them, or looking for your phone while you were on a phonecall. He would see you trying so hard to understand the instructions on a youtube video while trying to knit something for your baby… and he would find a tangle of yarn on the sofa most nights, a clear sign that you gave up that day. He loved to see you cook, but nowadays it is also a struggle that gives him a heart attack every time. You do not seem to think much about what you are doing lately, and it shows in how you burned the toaster when you wanted to turn it on one day, for some reason you put it on the stove and turned on the stove instead… So for the last few weeks the stove and the dangerous appliances are off limits for you. 

Seungmin enjoys the quiet tranquility that putting the girls to sleep brings to your home. Finally, after several hours of chasing the toddlers around and keeping his eye on you, the girls got tired and accepted a glass of warm chocolate milk. You held Choon-Hee and he held Nari, each one held onto their favorite blanket and finished the milk from their sippy cups before falling asleep. 

“It’s like they’re drunk on milk,” Seungmin whispered, not wanting to disturb the sensitive girls. 

“Mhm…” You smiled, holding Choon-Hee close to your chest, effectively creating a perfect warmth cocoon for the little girl. 

If there was any difference Seungmin could notice from you in the last few months, besides the obvious physical changes that came with the whole “creating new life” aspect of things; it was that you were more tender. You kissed him goodnight and you touched his cheek in such a way that he could not help but feel his heart swell up with tenderness. You were also more drawn to children in a way you were not before. To Seungmin you were a sweet person, someone kind with no fear of showing their emotions. Now it seemed you were ten times that sensitive, he had to be more careful about his choice of words and the way he behaved - a single eye roll from him during your second trimester brought you to tears one afternoon and if he had to be honest, he was deeply ashamed of it.

He watched you holding Choon-Hee and he fixed his hold on Nari. He was guilty of not having the same change as you, he could not yet feel that tenderness for a little human made of half you and half himself. He was unable to wrap his head around the concept of loving the growing human in your womb. He was assured by his older members that what he saw you already feeling for your baby would come to him naturally as well. That it would happen when the time was right.

“Let me get these two to sleep…” 

He got up from the couch and fixed Nari in his arms, the girl already used to Uncle Seeungmin’s firm grasp, turned and held onto his neck while resting her cheek on his shoulder. Nari was the sweetest of the two, the quiet one. She enjoyed attention a lot less than her sister, but she was also the one who needed the most assurance. Seungmin brought her to their room, placing her on their bed with a blanket turned into a roll at the edge of it, helping her stay safely on the mattress without rolling off of it. 

When he came back to get Choon-Hee, he found you also sleeping. Your hold on the girl was weak and gentle- The youngest of the twins was the most trouble maker; but sleepy as she was, Seungmin managed to pull her from your arms and take her to sleep next to her sister. 

You felt Seungmin pull your legs up as he helped you find a comfortable position on the couch, getting you to rest with a soft blanket over your. He got to read for a little bit while you slept and the night set in. Hyunjin and his wife showed up almost thirty minutes later to get their twins. They looked happy and disheveled, but neither you nor Seungmin commented on it. You barely noticed, and Seungmin was making a mental note to tease his group member during rehearsals the following week… 

“They must have tired themselves out…” You told Hyunjin!Reader while Hyunjin and Seungmin carefully put the twins in their double stroller. 

“Oh, they didn’t give you trouble, did they?” Hyunjin!Reader offered you an apologetic smile, “We just needed some time for ourselves… and when you offered… I didn’t even think of warning you!” 

You laughed softly, aware that you needed to keep your voice down. 

“Don’t worry!” You squeezed your friend’s arm, “they were perfect… they’re such good girls! Right, Minnie? We had so much fun!”

Seungmin looked up at Hyunjin as he helped him cover the stroller with a blanket, Hyunjin looked amused as he saw the look on his friend’s face. 

“Did you?” Hyunjin asked him quietly, his doubt evident.

While Seungmin was not bad with children at all, he rarely ever offered to babysit for his friends. Most of the time it was you who offered. 

“As the only responsible adult in the house? Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that bad…” Seungmin sighed.

Hyunjin smiled up at you, assuming you had not heard him. “Did you really have fun?”

You nodded, smiling widely. “Yes! And it was great practice for us, Seungmin just needs to brush up on his playtime, but I would say he is ready!” You winked at your husband, obviously trying to tease him.

Seungmin grinned, mentally forcing himself to not roll his eyes, “yeah, maybe…but I’ve got nap time down!”

You blushed and looked back at Hyunjin!Reader, “I fell asleep too… I think I got carried away playing with them earlier” 

“Please come visit and get carried away playing anytime…” Hyunjin commented, “they don’t ever seem to run out of energy at home, even if one does, there is still the other…” 

Hyunjin!Reader nodded. “We’re signing up for dance lessons, they need to get that energy out somehow…”

You smiled “Oh, they’re gonna be so cute! What are you thinking, baby ballet?” 

Both parents nodded, “it’s that or taekwondo… but I don’t want them fighting so they’ll get tutus.” 

Seungmin chuckled, “yeah… that’s gonna keep them from fighting…” 

Hyunjin gave him a look before speaking: “Anyway, thanks for babysitting, we really needed the time off.” 

You nodded too and smiled at your friend, “oh, don’t mention it! We are happy to help, you’re basically family…” 

Seungmin agreed with that and said goodbye to Hyunjin before going to the door with them. 

You were alone at last, after spending most of the day running around preparing for the twins and then watching them and keeping them entertained the only thing you wanted to do was to get changed and go to bed. 

“Minnie, did you really not have fun?” You asked him as you grabbed his arm and leaned onto his side.

He sighed, “I did… it’s just… you’re so hard to keep up with. You need to take care of yourself, you know? I can’t be the only one taking care of you and the baby…”

“Oh…” You pursed your lips, letting out a small laugh, “I just… feel so restless, you know?” 

Seungmin nodded as you walked through the house and into your bedroom. 

“What do you mean?”

You sighed and explained, “well, I… I think I have a baaad case of this thing… uhm ‘baby brain’.” 

Seungmin looked a little defeated. You always managed to be the last person to get the memo it seemed. He felt somewhat amused and incredulous but he allowed you to elaborate. 

“I feel like I forget things and I do things that don’t really make sense, Minnie…” You frowned, “And I just can’t figure out how to make a stupid blanket!” 

He chuckled at your comment about the knitting project, he was already aware you were struggling with that but he knew better than to say anything, not wanting to hurt your extra-sensitive feelings. 

“It’s okay, Y/N…” He reassured you, rubbing small circles on your back. “Your body is working really hard to make a baby. I guess it’s normal that your mind is busy…”

You looked up at him and smiled, “you’re so good to me…” You wrapped your arms around his waist and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, a small smile appearing on his face. “I know you must be so frustrated with me… and you still cope so well.” 

Your husband kissed the top of your head, “I wouldn’t do it for anyone else, Y/N. Only my wife gets my patience.”

“Only me? How about Eun-Jae?” You looked up at him, testing out the name you picked for your baby a few days ago. 

Seungmin smiled and looked down at you nodding. Watching the way you stare at him so lovingly he could not help but feel like there is a weight to the name you chose. He put his hand on your belly, rubbing it slowly. He felt some movement under his hand and his eyes widened in surprise, turning to you quickly. 

“Hm, he’s moving a lot today. Did you feel that?” 

You stared at him with curiosity, Seungmin had yet to experience the feeling of your baby moving in your belly. 

He nodded, dumbfounded. “He… moved?” 

With a gleeful smile you nodded and pulled his hand over your stomach so he could feel it again, where your baby seemed to be kicking. 

“I like to think he’s happy when he kicks like this, he is so strong already…” 

“Eun-Jae?” Seungmin asked quietly. 

It was true what his members said. That love for his son would come one day and hit him suddenly. And it happened right then, after a busy day while preparing to go to sleep. He watched your stomach with renewed wonder and love, and you touched his cheek softly before kissing it. 

“Oh, our baby boy is so lucky to have such a loving, patient dad…” 

You went to push your glasses up on the bridge of your nose and almost stuck a finger into your eye. Seungmin sighed and chuckled as he turned his attention back to your face, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Pabo, you’re not wearing your glasses today… you put on your contacts this morning…” 

“Right…” 

--------

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue

part 1 | part 2

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, citation of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating

Carlos Sainz Jr was a true gentleman, a loyal and kind companion, a loving lover. A captivating man who won me over at first glance, with his chocolate-colored eyes and million-dollar smile. I didn't know who Carlos really was until I became deeply involved with him, until I realized I loved him so much that it wouldn't make any difference if he were a prince, a fisherman, or a mobster.

I met Carlos at the art gallery where I worked in Madrid; he was charming, affectionate, and too perfect to be true. He made efforts to create perfect dates and show all the affection he had for me; loving Carlos was as easy as breathing.

He was always very open about his feelings, his plans for the future, but he avoided revealing what his job was as much as possible. I tried to guess, after all, there aren't many job options in the market that could justify a huge mansion and the need for many security guards around him, but I never succeeded.

It took him a year to open up about his illicit activities to me, perhaps pressured by fate with subtle gestures. Before I could find out on my own, Carlos came clean.

I loved him deeply, but a woman has her limits and there are things I can't tolerate. I loved him infinitely, but thinking about all the things he did or was involved in made me sick. I had to overlook many things to be with him because, after all, I loved him, and that was what mattered, right?

"A monster is not a monster when you love it." This phrase was never more true. Carlos was never a monster to me, even after he told me all the terrible things he had done. I would still love him anyway.

Carlos loved me for five years, loved me while we timidly got to know each other, loved me when I tried to leave his life, loved me with all my mess when I moved into his house, loved me on our wedding day as we shared tears, loved me through three wedding anniversaries. But he didn't love me when I had to mature, when I realized that in the life we were living, you either bite or get bitten, when I realized that staying clean-handed would only bring me grief and sadness.

He began to distance himself gradually: the bed seemed too far away, he kept his hugs at bay, stayed late at the office to avoid sharing a bed, left early from our house to avoid breakfast together. I spared no effort to keep him close, planned dinners he would make excuses not to attend, tried to surprise him at the office only to be chased away. Then came the day he decided to move rooms. I was startled to enter the room we shared, where we had been so happy, now empty, without his clothes, without his pillow, without his bath products.

It hurt too much to see him so distant. He claimed he needed time to think, but there was no emotion in his words. We were both scared of what had happened in the previous months. After the incident where they tried to hurt me, I needed my husband's help. I wanted him to protect me, I needed his support, needed to be strong like him and not just his helpless wife.

Even after all my efforts to make him love me again, he never returned to our room. Then the girl came into the story. A woman's intuition is funny; I knew the moment he came home on a certain day that he had found another woman. Even with all the moments I tried to change Carlos's mind, using every possible means and humiliating myself more than I would allow at any other time, nothing stopped that moment from arriving.

"What is this?" I ask, not daring to touch the envelope in front of me.

"They're the divorce papers, y/n..." Carlos sighs, appearing for the first time in a long time for breakfast. "I tried to be as fair as possible, but you can look at them and then we'll negotiate."

"There will be no negotiation, Carlos! Because there will be no divorce," I reply, trying to stay firm. This day seemed close, but something in me still refused to believe it would come. Something in me refused to accept that I would have to divorce Carlos. This was just a phase, something that happens to any couple; we didn't need to be extremists.

"Y/n... please, be rational. We can't prolong this; it's the best way out for both of us," he tries to negotiate.

"And I disagree with your opinion. My God, Carlos! We're talking about our marriage! You didn't even try to give us a chance," I respond, frustrated.

"There's no solution anymore, y/n..." he murmurs to me, and that breaks me even more.

"I won't sign them, Carlos," I push the envelope away from me. The wedding ring gleams on my left hand with the movement, a simple touch of irony to the whole situation.

English is not my first language.

Leave your comments and opinions ❤️

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received. 

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 6 - Transaction Action

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.)

"Stolas wants you don't get mad", he blurts out. "What do you mean Stolas wants me?"

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word Count: 12,920

Warnings: threesome, afab!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do that y’all!! also this does NOT lead to a pregnancy or anything like that lol i fell for that in a fic once and i hated it so don’t worry abt that), making out, dry-humping, dirty talk, fingering, Stolas has a cloaca (like in canon), Blitzø purrs, hair-pulling, feather-pulling (?), tail play (?), use of blindfold, physical restraint (no ropes, just.. tails again lmao), light choking, stolas is very submissive, penetrative sex, standing sex, sexual tension, name-calling, light degradation, dom/sub undertones, squirting, i think that’s all. this chapter is basically just sex honestly.

When Blitzø called you up into his office only a few minutes before you were supposed to go home, this was not where you’d thought the conversation would be going. You could have imagined it would have something to do with his whole situation with Stolas, judging by the weird suggestive way he asked you to go and the fact that the full moon was just the next day, but, then again, that was Blitzø, and that wasn’t really anything abnormal.

But when he sat you down on his chair, circled behind you and offered you a fucking shoulder rub (which, what the fuck?), you knew something was up. “Okay what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” He retorts.

“Blitz. What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?”

“You would not be giving me a fucking massage right now if you hadn’t done something.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you in the mood… ‘s it working?” He half-heartedly tries some flirty humor.

“Blitz.”

He sighs. “Okay I did do something.”

“Oh what a surprise!”

“But it wasn’t like. Well I didn’t do do something. I just did something.”

“What does that fucking mean?”

“Stolas wants you don’t get mad,” he blurts out.

“What do you mean Stolas wants me?”

He sits down on top of the desk in front of you so he can face you as he speaks. “Well you know the thing I have with him?”

“Not exactly, it’s really fucking confusing.”

“Not that confusing. We use his little magic spell book-”

“His Grimoire.”

“Yeah that. We use that in order to have I.M.P. happen and everything. And I bring it back to him every full moon.”

“Yeah and where does the whole sex thing come in again?”

“Well it’s like. Uh. It’s like an exchange, you know. He lets us use the book, which is kind of a little bit very illegal but ya know he’s royalty he won’t get in trouble or something like that, I don’t know, and in exchange I have sex with him.”

“Like just once a month?”

“Like just once a month,” he repeats in confirmation.

“That is-”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, right?”

“Not exactly what I was gonna say. But sure.”

“Well it is. And guess what? Stolas wants you to… participate… in our activities.”

“Stolas what?”

“I told you! He wants you.” Blitzø smirks, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“What? No.”

His expression falls immediately. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean, you can’t just go offering sexual favors in my name! I’m not some fucking sex doll!”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“No I didn’t, you just asked me not to.”

“Look I didn’t offer it, he just asked for it!”

“Well then tell him no! I see this guy all the time for years and sure he’s hot or whatever but he’s so composed and polite and never shows any fucking ounce of interest and now he pulls this?”

“I mean you’re not awful to look at. Maybe he’s been thinking about it all this time. Maybe all those years he’s been jacking it off to you in his-”

“Well this is not the way to go about it.”

“He just told me to ask you. It’s supposed to be a ‘non-pressure ask,” He says, in air-quotes, “but, like, he’s a prince you know? And we need the book.”

“Does none of that sound concerning to you?”

“Not really,” he shrugs. “It’s just what I do.”

Your mind wanders to yourself a few years before and you wonder if it would be wise to accept a deal like this. You wonder, too, if you should talk to Ozzie before deciding on it, but then again… you kind of didn’t want to have that conversation. And would it be so bad to hook up with two hot guys and get something you needed out of it? You realize you were sounding just like Blitzø. Or just like… 

You shake the thought away. This was different. “What about us?” You find yourself asking.

“What about us?”

“How would we go about this? Isn’t it gonna be weird?”

“What? No way. We’re just gonna be friends who… sometimes… fuck the same guy… at the same time. And that’s it.”

“Is it… good? Like is it good at all with him or just like. A ‘get it over with to get what you want’ kind of thing’?”

Blitzø averts his eyes to the floor, hesitating before giving you an answer. “Best sex I’ve ever had. But don't go telling anyone that.”

“Well shit.”

“So, you in?”

“I... the full moon’s tomorrow, right? Can I… think about it?”

“As your boss? No. But as your friend… sure.”

“Wow. So caring of you.”

“Yeah yeah call me mother Talita or whatever.”

“Mother what?” You stifle a laugh.

“Mother Talita? You know, that… nun or whatever.”

“That’s Mother Theresa, dude. And she’s been down here.”

“Yeah well so am I.”

��Well, am I dismissed, sir?” You mock him, putting on a stupid accent, trying to ease the tension up.

“Sir, huh? I can work with sir.”

You smile. Has it been that long since that day you met?  

[. . .]

Millie looks confused when she opens her front door to find you on the other side of it later that day. Well, not day anymore, technically. A little later than that. And a little later than later, too. 

Alright, it’s the middle of the night and you’re sort of, kind of, panicking. A lot. 

“Y/N? E’rythin’ alright?” She yawns, clearly woken up by your knocking on her door.

“I know you were sleeping, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Something happen?”

“Not really. Well not yet.”

She raises an eyebrow, curious. “Come in, girl.” She walks you inside and the two of you sit down, facing each other, on the purple couch you always compliment her on. Moxxie comes out of their room, rubbing his eyes and barely awake. “Sweetie everything-“ he yawns. “Everything okay?” He doesn’t even register the fact that you’re there, eyes barely open.

“Yeah Mox. Y/n’s just here to talk.”

“Oh. Hey.” He finally fixes his eyes on you and gives you a little wave.  

“Hey Mox,” you wave back.

“‘S it a both of us talk or a Millie talk?”

“Millie talk.”

“Okay. I’ll be,” he vaguely points back to the room, his mind clearly still foggy from the sleep. You feel bad for waking them up like this, but it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened, be it you showing up at their door at late hours to talk to either or both of them just like this, or one of them (both too, once) showing up at your place instead. “I’ll be right. There.” 

“Sure, Mox. You can go back to sleep now, alright? I’ll be right back,” Millie tells him with a fond smile, and he nods before walking back into the room, closing the door behind him to let the two of you talk. 

“Okay. Ya wanna tell me what’s going on now?”

“Blitz asked me to do something and I think I’m gonna say yes but I really don’t know if I should ‘cause it’s a little bit insane.”

“Oookay. What’d he ask ya to do?”

“Well not just him. Apparently- apparently Stolas-“

“The prince guy?”

“Yeah, the prince guy. Apparently he wants to make the deal they have like… a three person thing.”

“What?” She asks loudly, voice pitched up. 

“Yeah. And apparently he asked Blitz to ask me to participate tomorrow.”

“They want you to like… fuck ‘em?” She makes a crude gesture with her hands, trying to confirm she understood you right.

“… yeah.”

“Well shit!”

“I know!”

“And you wanna say yes?”

“Is it crazy if I do?”

“A little!  I get that you wanna fuck Blitz but you’re sure a threesome with this royal guy is the best way to do that?”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Blitz!”

“Y/n. I love you. I love Blitz.” She pauses, trying to make a point. “You two wanna fuck so bad it’s painful to watch sometimes.”

“That’s not true! And we both agreed waaay back when we met that we wouldn’t. That’s why we’re such good friends!” You exclaim, as if what you’re saying is normal and even obvious.

“Again, I love you. Very much. But I don’t need to keep fighting some urge to fuck you so that we can stay friends, ya know. That’s not normal.”

You go quiet. The point she’s trying to make is fundamentally right, and so there’s really not anything you can say to dispute it. You know that. 

“That’s not the point here! I think I want to say yes, just see where it goes maybe. But what if we’re right? And then we fuck and things are weird and I’m just involved in this situation.”

“I think you’re giving it too much credit. Things could get a little weird but it’s not like it would fuck up your friendship.”

“You don’t think it would?”

“Not if you don’t let it. But I’m a little worried about the threeway part of it. This isn’t Blitz asking you out. You know that, right? It’s Stolas asking to fuck ya. Through him. He’s like. Just a part of it.”

“I know. And I don’t want Blitz to ask me out, by the way. Alright? And yeah obviously this feels a little weird. But the guy’s hot and I’ve always noticed that. And don’t tell him I told you this, like ever, but Blitz says he’s the best sex he’s ever had.”

“Blitz said that?”

“Yeah! I think I’m just curious.”

“Girl, you know what you wanna do already. I dunno why you even came here.”

“I want your opinion!”

“My opinion is you wanna do this so do it! But maybe don’t commit to like… a forever kinda deal ya know. Do it once and see whatcha think.”

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds… smart.”

“ I never said I thought it was smart, it’s dumb as shit!” 

[. . .] 

Blitzø was already in his office when you got to work. Well, obviously. You’d passed up on the carpool this morning, choosing to walk this time instead. What was weird, though, was the fact that the place was so oddly quiet at that time of the morning, when usually there would be some sort of argument between Moxxie and Loona going on, or some weird client explaining their whole life story to Blitz somewhere, or even Millie training in the middle of the office. 

Millie and Moxxie weren’t there, though. Strange. “Where’s everyone?” You ask Loona. 

“The two fuckfaces went up on their own.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me. Blitz told them to. Said he’d go for a different target with you when you got here.” 

“‘Kay. Thanks.”

You walk up to his office, knocking on the door. It was closed, which was also weird. He almost never left it closed unless he had a client in there, which Loona would’ve probably told you about. “What?” He yells from inside.

“It’s me.”

“Oh. Come in.”

You do. You open the door to find him sitting on his chair, hands behind his head and feet over the table. “So?” He asks, and you know he’s referring to your answer to what he proposed the day before. Alright, straight to the point then.

“D’you think I could go tonight and see how it goes? Before, you know, committing to the whole deal thing and all?”

“I mean I guess?”

“Tell him I’m doing that,” you assert yourself.

He doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. “So… ya wanna get ready at my place? I can help you relax a little  before we go.” He grins, doing that stupid thing where he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. 

“Stop making things weird!”

“Learn how to take a joke, bitch!”

“Learn how to be funny, asshole!”

[. . .]

At home, you’re feeling nervous. What the fuck had you even gotten yourself into? What had gotten into Stolas to request you participate in the agreement anyway? You’d barely ever exchanged that many words in the times you’d seen each other throughout the years. 

Still, there you were, getting ready to fulfill his wishes.

Well, if you were doing this, you should dress to impress, right? You convince yourself that’s what you’re doing, but really you’re just trying to compensate for the anxiety by dressing nice and at least feeling hot. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror: you look nice.  It’s been a while since you’ve gone out with anyone. Well, not that this was going out. It’s still been a little while since you've hooked up with someone, too, though. You sit down on your bed and grab your phone, noticing you got a text from Millie. 

mills: how u doin?

You send her a selfie as a reply. 

mills: DAMN U LOOK HAWT

you: thank u!! u really think so?

mills: duhh?? bur r u sure ur ok w this?

you: i think so

mills: thats not a yes

you: if i get uncomfortable ill leave promise!  right?

mills: right.  so. u finally getting it on w blitzzzzzzzz 😏😏😏😏

you: ew bye millie!!

mills: aw cmonnn

you: no!! bye!!!

No getting into that subject. Millie has been adamant about pointing out the sexual tension between you and Blitzø for ages now. And, just as you could admit the night before, it’s not that you don’t notice it, or even that you were in denial about it being there- you were denying any acting upon it. And it was working out great, in fact! It’s what made you two such great friends, right? And tonight you were throwing years of that self control out the window. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

You tried not to dwell too hard on that, as there’s plenty of other things to think about at the moment, and you click out of Millie’s contact and on Blitzø’s instead. 

you: im ready can you come get me???

He takes a few minutes to reply.

blitz(n)o: ON MY WAY

[. . .]

“Shit” is the first and only thing he says as soon as he pulls up outside of your apartment complex, checking you out.

“What? Is it too much? I thought it was simple enough.” You look down at your outfit as you get in the car- a black tank top, lacy black bra peeking out, and simple, plain black shorts.

“No it’s simple. Pretty uh. Pretty simple,” Is all he says before turning his head to face forward, beginning to drive.

What did that fucking mean? “Okay.”

He changes the subject. “So! Ya ready for the time of your life?”

“I don’t think you understand how much I’ve fucked before.”

“I don’t think you understand how good I am.”

“Sure thing, Blitz.”

“Oh don’t act like you haven’t been thirsting for this dick for years now.”

“I most definitely haven’t.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“And what do you hear?”

“What I hear is that my dick must be good.”

You cringe as you remember the moment. You were wondering when he’d bring that up again. Though you hoped he’d forget about it, you know him, and you know he wouldn’t. “Oh come on, that's low, it was a slip-up.”

“You said it though.”

“You can’t prove it.”

“I have witnesses!”

“Will you shut up?”

“Oh no, I’m gonna talk about this forever and ever and ever and ever and-“ 

“Shhhhh I wanna listen to some music,” you turn on the radio, trying to get out of the conversation, and tuning into one of the Wrath stations. You sing your hearts out to a few songs until you get to the palace, and then your mood immediately shifts- this is real. This is going to happen. It feels thrilling, but it feels weird, too. 

“Come on, we gotta get in through the balcony.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“I- uh- cause… his wife. Well, ex-wife? Or whatever.”

“His wife’s here?”

“No, she leaves with his daughter when I come over.”

“So why would we get in through the balcony?”

“Well the servants!”

“He’s a prince, Blitz, can’t he do, like, whatever he wants?” 

“Look, we just gotta. ‘Kay?”

It doesn’t really seem up for debate, so… “Okay.” You follow him, and rather ridiculously climb up Stolas’ balcony, feeling like a fool. When you get up there, Stolas is sitting on his bed, tapping his foot, waiting for you. His eyes light up when he sees the two of you. 

“‘Sup, Stolassss?” Blitzø greets him.

“Hello Blitzy. Y/n,” he stands up to greet the both of you, immediately flustered over your presence. He's definitely never done anything like what you’re here to do ever in his life.

“Your Highness.”

“Oh, Please no, what have I told you? None of that.”

“Sorry. Old habits. Hi, Stolas.”

“That’s much better, darling. I like it when you say my name.” Oh.

“I brought her like I said I would, ya fucking perv,” Blitzø smirks.

“Uhm. I can see that, Blitzy.” He looks over to you. “Are you alright with this, dear?”

“Yes, I think.”

Stolas tilts his head to the side. “You think?”

“I’m not really sure why I’m here, honestly. You never really… showed any interest before.”

“My apologies, darling. Things were… a lot more difficult, then. But I have always noticed you.”

“I’m not that sure if I believe you, but-”

“Would you let me show you, then?”

Oh shit. “Yeah. Okay.” You nod, a little more enthusiastically than intended. 

“Hey I’m feeling a little left out here,” Blitzø complains, arms crossed over his chest. 

Stolas lets out a chuckle. “Is it alright if he joins us, dear?” He asks softly.

“Bitch I’m the one who actually knows her!”

“I am only checking in with her!”

“Let me check in with her!”

“Very well, then, go ahead!”

“It cool if we threeway?”

You let out a laugh at his wording. Ever a poet. “Sure.”

“Nice. See, Stolas?”

Stolas chuckles again, and sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. Blitzø follows, sitting down too, but leaving the spot between them empty. He signals for you to come sit with them. Blitzø leans down, pushing your hair out of the way so he’s granted access to your neck. As he begins kissing the spot right under your ear, Stolas grabs your hand, holding it in his. 

“Wait.”

They stop moving altogether. 

“What, can’t take it? We barely started!” Blitzø jokes. 

“It’s not that, asshole. Let’s just not get straight into it, yeah?”

“Shit, okay. You like to watch?” He grins, and you don’t have the time to respond before he lunges over at Stolas, grabbing him by the collar of his vest and pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

Stolas seems taken by surprise at first, but quickly lets himself get lost in it, wide eyes closing and startled expression relaxing. At first the kiss is only that- hungry. But as the moments go by you see it morph into something else- they look like two men starved, ready to devour each other whole. They move against each other aggressively, messily, over you, with Stolas cupping Blitzø’s jaw with both of his hands and Blitzø pulling hard on the feathers on the back of his head. Once in a while you can catch a glimpse into the way their tongues move against each other, desperate and careless, and it’s fucking hot. 

“Fuck,” you find yourself mumbling under your breath at the scene, unable to hide the way it’s got you all hot and bothered, and the two men pull away from each other, both out of breath. 

Blitzø smirks, very obviously enjoying the reaction they got out of you. “So. Like what you see?” 

You only nod.

“Wanna try it out?”

You nod again, slowly. 

“Use your words, dear,” Stolas urges you, and fuck it’s delicious.

“Yes.”

“Wanna put on a little show for birdy here?” Blitzø grins.

“Yes,” you repeat yourself. He’s so gonna give you shit for the way you’re acting right now after you’re done.

But right now he’s almost sweet about it. “Come here,” he tells you, expecting you to lean in. You do. 

Blitzo kisses you abruptly, with no time for you to think twice of it. He kisses you fervently, slowly, taking his time with this kiss that feels long overdue. Honestly, thinking back on it, it feels crazy that, with the sheer amount of sexual tension between you, you’d never even kissed before, despite the constant half-jokes about everything you half-seriously wanted to do to each other. It had always seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross- one you wouldn’t be able to come back from. And you suppose you were right: there was no way things could go back to normal after this. You could act like things were normal, but there was no way in hell you’d be able to forget whatever was about to happen. 

This was a problem for future you, though, because current you is busy enjoying every second of this.

He smirks into the kiss, and you can’t even get yourself to complain about his smugness like you normally would. Instead, you reach over around him, twirling his tail around on your pointer finger, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a kind of whimper you’d only ever heard animals make, clearly unprepared for that. You’d want to make fun of it, if only it didn’t sound so fucking hot and if only it didn’t seem so fucking enticing to have him whimper for you. You’re filled with the urge to make him do it over and over and over and over again, which sucks, because there’s no way you’ll be able to hold a normal conversation with him with those sounds to be remembered.  He pulls away from you, though, as soon as he catches himself making the noise. 

“Damnit, woman, gotta give a guy a warning!”

You shrug, half-apologetically, and the both of you turn to take a look at Stolas, who has his eyes open impossibly wide- all four of them. His mouth hangs open and there’s a very visible pink flush on his cheeks and it looks so damn cute and it’s making him look so very, very fuckable right now. 

“Was it a good show, Stolas?” You ask, trying to get a reaction from him.

Stolas can only get himself to nod slowly, as if lost in a trance. The look on his face makes you want to eat him right up.

“Well. Do I get a show?” Blitzø asks, and a surge of boldness rushes through you, pushing you to crawl your way onto Stolas’ lap, tracing your fingers along his face and his beak and looking up at him through your lashes in feigned innocence.

 “What do you think, Stolas? You think he deserves it?”

The prince gulps. It’s exhilarating- to have a fucking Goetia prince under you gulping in anticipation to have you. It’s been a while since you’ve let yourself feel this sort of power over someone. “I… believe it’s only fair,” he responds.

You nod in agreement, pleased, and pull him to you by the collar of his tailored vest. Kissing Stolas is obviously pretty different from kissing Blitzø, but different definitely isn’t bad in this case. It’s a lot more tongue, which makes sense. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been wondering what it was even like to kiss him, considering the, you know, beak. But his hands were planted on your hips and his tongue was moving against yours and he wasn’t desperate in such a way that rushed things too fast, but he was still so clearly eager with the way he kissed you like he’d run out of time that it got you stunned. Fuck, all thoughts that could still linger of this being a bad idea were getting thrown out the window by now- you’d deal with those later. 

“Okay okay I get it,” Blitzø complains, interrupting the moment by pulling you away from Stolas by your hair. It makes you freeze in place on the demon’s lap. Did he really just pull on your hair right now? You try to blink the shock right off your face, and maybe the fact that it might have turned you on for just a second, but it’s there long enough for Stolas, who’s staring at you with wide eyes, to notice- you can see it in his expression, like he was making a mental note of it, but he doesn’t mention it out loud. 

“That’s rude! What’d you do that for?” You scold.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t like it, I heard ya tell Millie you do. And the two of you got too many clothes on for a proper show.” You decide to brush off the first comment as to not freak yourself out- you know what conversation that came up in and you did not want to think about the fact that he’d apparently overheard it. Instead, you focus on the latter.

You look back at Stolas, who’s been awfully quiet since Blitzø’s interruption. So much for ‘using your words, dear’. “Actually I think so too. You agree, Stolas?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes!”

You and Blitzø share a look at the reaction, both grinning. 

Blitzo wants more, though- he wants to prove to you just how dirty Stolas is, how you should have believed him when he told you about it. “Come on, you can do better than that, Stolas. Don’t be shy now. Tell us what you want.”

“What I want?” 

You nod eagerly, encouraging him. 

Blitzø moves closer, settling on kneeling behind Stolas, voice dropping an octave as he coos at his ear. “You can talk to her like you talk to me. She ain’t no saint.”

“Really, Blitz?” You raise an eyebrow at the comment.

He looks up at you. “What? You’re the one already on his lap.” Okay, yeah, fair enough. 

“So? I can bring out the toys if you want. Just say the word, Stols.” Blitzø urges him. You take a mental note of the nickname to ask him about it at a later time. 

Stolas hesitates for only a couple seconds before describing the most dirtiest, filthiest ways in which he wanted to be fucked. You find yourself wanting to fulfill them all as he talks to you. “I want you to fill me up with your fingers. I want it so badly. I have fantasized about it. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this, for how long. Want to gag on Blitzy’s big cock, I want to hear you while he thrusts deep into you, you need to know how perfect it feels. I just want- I- I don’t know what I want, I- I-”

“Fuck.” Blitzo breathes out.

“Fuck.” You reapeat. Fuck, indeed.

A new sense of eagerness runs through you and compels you to move to unbutton the buttons on Stolas’ vest that you’re sure are all made out of real gold. Blitzø seems to be in the same line of thought as undoes his cape from behind him. Why was he even wearing the fucking cape for a scheduled hookup? Whatever, it just needed to be off, off, off. You both move at what feels like it could very much be the speed of light to undress him. 

Hearing what Stolas fantasized about had clearly turned the both of you on beyond comprehension, and every ounce of rationality was getting thrown out the window by the second. The clothes you’d taken off of him were blindly thrown somewhere in the room, leaving him only in his pants and underwear, and as much as you did want them off too, you didn’t have it in you to get up off of his lap yet. “Fuck, Stolas. Few months ago I wouldn’t have thought you had that kind of mouth.” You ground your hips against his, experimentally, trying to gauge his reaction.

He didn’t seem to be expecting you to do that, his hips betraying any tries he could make at seeming unbothered by it as they seemed to involuntarily thrust up to meet yours instantly. And then he fucking hoots. Incredible. He covers his mouth when he realizes the sound he made. 

“I told you. He’s a filthy fucking whore.” Blitzø says, still behind him. Stolas gulps at the insult. He likes it, you realize. 

You run a hand through the feathers on his chest, keeping the other on his shoulder, and you can feel him shiver under you. Blitzø keeps on, speaking in that low voice that wasn’t even directed at you anymore but still gave you chills, bringing his hands to pull Stolas’ down from your hips and on the mattress, on either side of him, trapping them firmly there. You get the idea- and it fills you with anticipation: if things keep going like this, you’re sure to have an utterly helpless Stolas between you. The image your mind conjures of it alone is already breathtaking enough to leave your mind foggy. You roll your hips against his again, and again, settling into a painfully slow pace just to tease him.  “What’s up with that, Stolas? The lady thought you weren’t even into her! Acting all polite and shit and then going home and jerking it to her. That what you were doing?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, and you could have mistaken that for him being uncomfortable, if only his body wouldn’t keep betraying him. Blitzø has learned how to use that condescending, mocking tone to get the prince going, having turned it almost into an art form at this point with the way he seemed to know exactly what to say and how to say it to tug on his strings.  He closes all four of his eyes, breathing growing more erratic as he grinds back up against you, pointlessly chasing what you purposefully simply won’t give him enough of. 

“It’s okay if you did, Stolas, baby. You can tell us,” you coo, as if taking pity on him. The truth is seeing him like this, all flustered and pathetic, was something you came to find out you enjoyed- very much so. 

He opens his eyes- only the lower ones- and stares at you with them wide. “Only- only sometimes.” 

“Oh, did you now? Poor thing! Did you hear that, Blitz?”

Blitzø lets out a mocking laugh from behind him, still trapping his hands in place. “So pathetic. I bet you jerk it to the thought of our last full moon too, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, once again. You halt all movement at the lack of response, as you’ve come to realize teasing him is beyond fun. “Come on, answer him, Stolas.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I knew it. You’re a fuckin’ mess, Stolas! Look at your feathers all ruffled up. So pathetic. ‘S it the girl on your lap or the guy right behind you, huh?”

Stolas completely ignores him. “Your- your clothes. I’m the only one undressed here.. They should be off too,” he pleads, eyes closed once again. 

“Which one of us?” You ask.

“Both of you.”

“Oh.”

“Fine by me,” Blitzø shrugs, freeing Stolas’ hands from his grip and taking off his jacket, revealing a button up shirt and… are those suspenders? You restrain yourself from making fun of them so as to not ruin the mood. You’ll make fun of them later.  He takes the shirt off swiftly and begins to unbutton his pants, too.

“This what you want me to take off?” You inquire, pulling on one of the straps of the black top and tilting your head to the side. It’s pointless to ask, really, and you know that- there was only so much for you to take off, unlike the two freaks who were practically competing for the most clothing layers in hell. Truth is, you just want to make him say it. 

 “Yes,” he affirms, pulling at the hem of your top. “Please.”

You nod, pulling it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor next to the bed. You take your time, not missing the opportunity to make a little show of it. “Better?”

“So much.” He breathes out.

“Holy fuck I’ve always dreamed of seeing those,” Blitzø comments, staring profusely and unashamedly at your chest. You’re still wearing the pretty black bra you’d picked earlier, and you let out a genuine laugh at the reaction.

“Shut up- ” Whatever you were about to say next dies out as Stolas places a kiss on your collarbone with no warning. 

“What, you don’t think it’s true?”

“Oh, no, I believe you.”

“Cocky bitch.” 

“You- fuck-“ Stolas nips at a sensitive spot on your neck, just under your ear. “You asked, you pri-” you suck in a breath as he runs his tongue along your throat.

“Hey now, we’re trying to have a conversation here,” Blitzø scolds him. “They don’t teach you it’s rude to interrupt at prince school?” He mocks, and his tail ascends to Stolas’ neck, entailing itself around it and tugging on it. It pulls Stolas’s face away from your body and leaves him gasping for air, and, fuck, it’s hot. “Where was I?” He asks you nonchalantly, tail still squeezing Stolas’ throat just enough to make his breathing erratic. “Telling you how many times I imagined what it’d be like to bury my head in your sweet, sweet-”

“Pervert.”

“Joke’s on you, insulting me only turns me on more.” The spade of his tails lifts Stolas’ chin up, forcing him to rest his head back on Blitzø’s chest.

“Why does that not surprise me- will you quit staring at my boobs?”

“I mean it’s kinda hard when they’re like right there. And where’s that energy for the pigeon here? He hasn’t taken his eyes off ‘em since you took the shirt off. And he’s got four of ‘em.”

You look back down at Stolas, who not-so-gracefully makes a point of directing his gaze somewhere else. 

“You been staring, Stolas?”

“No.” It comes out breathy, the sound threatening to not even come out given the hold of Blitzø’s tail on his throat.

Blitzø scoffs.

“It’s okay if you were.”

“Hey!” Blitzø complains. “I’m being treated so unfairly here!”

You ignore him. “Did you get a good look?” You card your fingers through Stolas’ hair before caging his face in your hands.

“What do you mean-”

You pull yourself off his lap altogether and he whimpers at the loss of contact, immediately muttering out apologies for staring at you. You just can't believe how easy it is to make him so submissive, such a mess. 

“I’m not punishing you for staring, Stolas. I just think you got a good look already. Don’t you wanna take a good look at Blitz too?” Blitzø raises an eyebrow at you as you lock eyes, silently questioning where you plan on going with that. 

Stolas doesn’t have to be told twice, and turns his head, and only his head, to look at Blitzø , in almost a full 180° turn. It’s freaky, and not the sexy kind of freaky- scary freaky. 

“Geez don’t fucking do that!” Blitzø releases the demon from his own tail’s grip on his throat. “I was gonna let you move!”

Stolas whips his head back into place and turns his whole body to face Blitz this time. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“Yeah I noticed.”

Stolas doesn’t look embarrassed by what just happened the same way you noticed he’d been when he let out the compromising noises earlier, and you chalk it up to a single reason- he’s too busy ogling at Blitzø’s almost naked body. You get up off the bed, walking to the other end of the room, where Blitzø had left his bag. Rummaging through the collection of sex toys he’d brought in it, you were positive you’d find what you were looking for somewhere in there- and you do.

“The fuck are you doing?” Blitzø calls out.

You wordlessly hold up the blindfold in reply, putting the other stuff back inside the bag before turning around to face them, only to see both men staring at you intently. “What?” You ask, walking back towards the bed. Was this like a wrong move, or something?

“You wanna use that?” Blitzø asks you.

“Well it’s not for not me, is it? It’s for Stolas.” You explain, casually, and said demon chokes on his own spit. 

“Me?”

“Well, yes. I think you’ve stared enough for now, haven’t you? You don’t think we can take care of you? Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

His cheeks burn a flaming pink hue again and you wonder once again if what you’re suggesting is actually welcome, your confidence faltering for a second. “Have you guys never used it? I thought-”

“Oh we’ve used it alright. I think the pretty bird here’s just a little overwhelmed. Is that right, Stolas?”

“You’re just… so forward, y/n.” It sounds like it’s a good thing, judging by the way he says it. You still want to make sure, though.

“Is that an okay thing?”

“An okay thing?” Stolas repeats, as if even thinking of questioning that is completely stupid. He crawls over to the edge of the bed, where you stood, and sits pretty on his legs with his back to you. “Please do it. I’ll behave, I’ll let you take care of me.”

Okay, green light. Very hot green light. 

“Oh, Stolas. I’m sure you will,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, eyes locked on Blitzø’s as you do so. He, in turn, looks elated, eager for what he knows is coming next.. Whatever you were doing, it seemed you were on the right path, with both of them. You bring the soft black fabric over Stolas’ eyes, tying it up behind his head. Blitzø stares curiously at you when you make eye contact with him again. “You wanna play?” You ask, a devilish smile directed at him.

“Fuck yeah.” 

Silence takes over as Blitzø takes his time crawling over to Stolas on all fours, anticipation building inside all three of you by the second. He sits on his own legs, mirroring Stolas’ position, and places his hands on the prince’s knees, pushing his legs open. You can hear Stolas’ breath hitch. Blitzø moves closer now, kneeling between his legs and resting his hands on either of his thighs. Stolas immediately places his own hands on top of the imp’s and leans forward, trying to pull Blitzø into a kiss. Blitzø leans back and clicks his tongue in response. 

“Stolas I thought you just said you were gonna behave.”

“I am!”

“You’re not, though, are you? Do I have to spell it out to you? You don’t call the shots here. You touch me when I let you.”

“O- okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He retracts his hands, placing them by his sides once again.

“I don’t know, I’m not very convinced.” He looks up at you. “Think you can hold him for me, sweetheart?” He challenges. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” The words leave his mouth and go straight in between your legs. You can’t help the way it sends shivers up your spine. Blitzø turns his attention back to Stolas. “Come here, Stolas, let’s leave some room for the lady, huh?” He gets into a sitting position and pulls Stolas onto his lap in such a quick motion it makes him gasp.

You kneel on the bed behind Stolas and look up expectantly at Blitzø. As much as Stolas isn’t calling the shots here, neither are you, you realize.

“Now let’s try again, shall we?”

Stolas nods and Blitzø finally pulls him into a kiss once again, hands firmly planted on his hips. You can hear their moans as they make out in front of you, the sinful noises filling the room, and if this were a scene in a movie you’d be replaying it nonstop. Their tongues dance against each other in pure, lewd, lust, and you’re so entranced by it that you almost miss Blitzø’s hand snaking itself down Stolas’ pants. The demon on his lap jumps in surprise, the hands he’d so obediently been keeping to himself involuntarily flying to Blitzø’s biceps. 

Blitzø immediately retracts his own hands from Stolas’ body entirely, and Stolas mutters what you think is a ‘fuck’ as he realizes what he did wrong. “It wasn’t fair, you didn’t warn me-”

“Nuh-uh, I gave you another chance already, Stols. I think you need to be taught some manners.” He looks up at you and signals to Stolas, and you blink a couple times before you catch onto what he wants you to do. 

You lean in closer, your front now flushed to Stolas’ back, and reach to grab his hands- one with your own and the other with your tail. Bringing them both to his back, you bind them with the tail, securing them together. It leaves your hands free, and you take the liberty to grab Stolas’ hair and pull on it, forcing him to lift his chin up, making him let out a shaky breath. Blitzø didn’t ask you to do that, but you’re sure he’ll appreciate it. You sure are.

“Now we’re talking. Can’t disobey now that you’re being held back, can ya?”

“I’ve apologized-”

“Ah-ah-ah. We’re past that already. And I don’t think you really are sorry. Ya wanna know what I think? I think you want to be held back. I think you want to be helpless.” 

Stolas takes a gulp instead of responding.

“Let's see if this way you’ll behave like a good little slut, huh?” Blitzø grabs Stolas’ face with both his hands and pulls him into a kiss that isn’t just desperate, but brutal this time around. Stolas’ little moans are delicious, and you watch over his shoulder as Blitzø snakes a hand inside his pants again. Like the last time, Stolas tries to move his hands, but your hold on his wrists restrains him from doing so. “I still feel like you’re wearing so much. Don’t you think we should take this off?” He pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants.

“Please do.”

Blitzø grins and looks at you. “I don’t know… What do you think, y/n? Think he deserves it?”

You lean down to whisper in Stolas' ear. “You think I should tell him you’ve been trying to move?”

“No. No, I won’t do it again. I swear.”

“Yeah, I think we could put him out of his misery.”

“If you think so,” Blitzø pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants and underwear again, prompting the prince to lift up his hips so they could be taken off, leaving him completely exposed. You find your position a shame right now, only able to see what you can over his shoulder, and decide you just have to switch it. You let go of your tail’s grip on Stolas’ wrists and let your hands off his hair, moving to kneel by Blitzø’s side, now able to see the whole picture, and it’s a sight to behold, Stolas’ naked body on top of Blitzø’s, his eyes - all four- hidden by the silk fabric.

“Holy shit.”

“What, couldn’t contain yourself?” Blitzø mocks.

“I’m the one who’s new to this.” 

“Oh yeah! You are! You wanna give her a proper show now, Stolas?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“You can touch me this time.”

“Oh thank fuck-” Stolas mutters out and immediately wraps his arms around Blitzo’s neck. He ruts his hips against his once, tentatively, trying to gauge any sort of response now that he’s been granted permission to. When Blitzø meets his thrust, he lets out a relieved sigh, and begins to grind onto him in a crescending rhythm, finally able to get some friction in his own accords. 

The second Blitzø starts purring, you’re done for. You don’t even really think before your lips are on his neck, and your hand rests on his chest, and his lips meet Stolas’ as they keep their pace against each other, and in a matter of seconds it all becomes a mess of entangled limbs and breaths and lewd noises. 

Your lips graze Blitzø’s earlobe for a second and one of his hands comes flying off of Stolas’ hips to your hair, pushing your head back down. “Do it again,” he demands, eyes closed and breathless, and you oblige, kissing up on the side of his neck until you get to his ear again, biting lightly on it, causing him to instinctively pull on his grip in your hair, and making you let out an involuntary moan directly to his ear. He thrusts up hard against Stolas at the noise, the purring growing louder. Stolas yelps at the change in pace, fast, brutal and utterly dirty now. “Come on, Stolas, you can give me one before we get more far.” 

Stolas’ face scrunches and you almost think he’s going to correct Blitzø’s grammar before he simply nods, ignoring it and leaning further so his forehead meets Blitzø’s, and it actually looks sweet. There’s no time for being sweet. 

You grab Stolas’ face, roughly pulling him to face you, and his movement falters. “Don’t stop, Stolas. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod, pleased, squeezing his cheeks until his mouth is forced open and pulling him into a torturing kiss, slow and sensual and downright vulgar. A promised, he doesn’t stop his pace against Blitzø, who meets him with equally eager ruts of his hips, but doesn’t look nor sound nearly as fucked out as he does. Blitzø presses two of his fingers directly to Stolas’ hole, and, though he doesn’t insert them or even move them, the friction from it in between their bodies as the moved in sync seemed to be enough to turn Stolas into an even bigger mess, mouth parted as he let out the most impossibly filthy, delightful  noises, barely able to kiss you back properly. 

“I’m going to- I’m- Please, please, please, let me-” he’s so gone you’re not even sure he can register what he’s saying, how he’s begging. And he’s begging for permission, you realize. 

“You make the call,” Blitzø tells you. “Think he deserves it?”

“I’m not sure,” you taunt. “You think you’ve been a good boy for us, Stolas?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

“Good, good boy. You can cum, Stolas. Can you cum for us?”

Stolas nods furiously, pace increasing to be impossibly more desperate, and you watch in awe as Blitzø inserts two of his fingers inside his hole, going back to thrusting into him right after. The noise of his fingers moving inside of Stolas, along with the breathy moans he’s letting out, is so pornographic it makes you blush- Stolas is so fucking wet that Blitzø has no issue inserting them entirely inside, though he’s still careful with it, curling it up in such a way it has Stolas letting out an animalistic screech. You can see he’s just on the verge of finishing, and decide you can put yourself to good use to help, snaking your tail up to his neck and wrapping it tightly around it, now aware that he likes that, but still in such a position that you can have a clear view when he cums- and oh, when he cums! 

The wet noises fill the room along with Blitzø’s grunts and Stolas’ utterly sinful moans, in sync with the way their hips meet and Blitzø’s fingers go deeper and deeper inside him each time. The sight is glorious, from Stolas’ semblant of pure ecstasy to the way he drips onto Blitzø’s fingers, hips faltering more and more as he loses himself while the orgasms hits him, leaving it for Blitzø to pump his fingers inside him a few more times so he can fully ride it out. 

You retract your tail from his neck as he rests his head on Blitzø’s shoulder, jumping up at the stimulation when Blitzø moves to retract his fingers from inside of him. Blitzø wordlessly offers them to you, and you silently open up your mouth, tongue out and all, so that he can place them inside. You run your tongue over his fingers, coated with Stolas’ fluid, looking at Blitzø through your lashes. You give them kitten licks, enjoying the way he seems affected by the sight. “Suck, bitch,” he demands, and you don’t even have the willpower to determine if you care about the name-calling or not, only doing as he says and sucking his fingers dry obediently. He looks pleased by it. “Ya hear that, Stolas? She’s tasting you on my fingers like it’s her last fuckin’ meal. Bet you wish you could see that,” he mocks, and Stolas shudders at the thought. You pull away with a soft ‘pop’, licking the remnants of the liquid from your lips. 

“Don’t be mean, Blitz,” you coo, moving to untie the fabric in the back of Stolas’ head. He takes a couple seconds to lift his head up from Blitzø’s shoulder, eyes slowly opening to take in the view of the two of you. He blushes slightly, and his eyes travel down to where his groin meets Blitzø’s, gulping at the sight of his cum all over Blitzø’s underwear. He’s sure he’s ruined it, but doesn’t have the heart to care. He can just buy him a new one. 

“Are you alright, Stolas?’ You ask him, softly, as he comes back to his senses. 

“Yes. Yes, thank you, thank you.”

Blitzø smirks. “So, Stols. Anything, huh?”

“I- uh-” Stolas stumbles over his words, embarrassment washing over him now that he’s come down from chasing his high. “I-”

“Are you backing down, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” Stolas scolds him. “And I still don’t know why I am the only one undressed.”

“Cause it’s fun,” you chime in, chuckling at his expression. 

“You a pussy, Stolas?”

“No- I’m- will you not call me that?”

“If you stop acting like one.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Now that’s more like it.” He grins, pleased. “You’re gonna eat her out, and I’m gonna watch.”

“What?” You’re the one to ask. 

“What, don’t think I didn’t see your thighs pressed together while you watched us. I could bet you so much money that you’re dripping wet just from watching.”

“I-” You glance at Stolas, who has his head tilted to the side as he watches you. He looks curious. “Okay.”

“Good fuckin’ girl. Come on, Stolas, don’t be shy!” Blitzø pulls you to lie down with your head on one of Stolas’ fancy silk pillows, and you feel anticipation bubbling inside you. 

Stolas crawls to kneel right by Blitzø’s side, facing your legs. His eyes wander from you to Blitzø to you to Blitzø, as if unsure where to begin. And apparently he is. “I don’t- I don’t know how to- what should I do?”

“You never eaten a woman out before?”

Stolas ashamedly nods his head no. 

“Didn’t you have a whole ass wife?”

“Well, yes, but we barely ever-” oh. 

“Okay, well, good thing I’m kind of an expert,” Blitzø grins confidently and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at it. “Ya wanna learn something new today?” 

Stolas nods feverishly. 

“Okay, well, change of plans, tits,” Blitzø tells you, crawling over to be at face level with you, his body fully on top of yours, weight held up by his hands on either side of your head. “That alright?” He lowers his voice again, staring deeply into your eyes. You’re beginning to suspect he could ask you to do anything in that voice and you’d do it, no questions asked.

You take a gulp. “Yes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he whispers, before capturing your lips on his roughly. This time around the kiss doesn’t start slow, or tender, or anything remotely wholesome. It’s obscene and hungry and feels so, so right. He leaves his weight for his left arm to support as, lips still linked with yours, tongue still dancing against your own, he descends his right hand to squeeze your right breast over your bra, and you feel him open a smile against your lips when he manages to make you suck in a harsh breath at the feeling of it. He massages your breast roughly over the piece of clothing before he tugs the bra cup down, thumb and pointer finger promptly taking hold of your nipple and rolling it between them. He pulls his face away from yours and halts his ministrations altogether, much to your dismay, to take a look back at Stolas. “You watching?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You see how you don’t just jump straight into it? Not that you can’t, but it takes the whole experience up a notch to start with some kissing, some touching, some squeezing,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the last part and makes a point of squeezing your boob once again.

“And what makes you so sure you’re doing it right?” You challenge him. You know he knows you’re only doing it to tease him, but whatever gets him back on you, even if only to prove a point. Blitzø fucking loves proving a point.

“Good question. Let’s see, shall we?” He lets go of your bra, letting it cover you again, and begins trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your ears, your neck, your throat. He pays extra attention to your collarbone before supporting himself up and shifting his weight to his legs, straddling you. He places his hand back on your right boob this time, kneading it over your bra once again, and tugs down on the other bra cup, exposing your left. 

He dives right in with no warning. You’re given no time to expect it before he’s licking at you messily, your nipple hardening immediately at the contact. The cool air of the room hits the spit that now covers it as he pulls away and intensifies that feeling even more. You breath hitches. 

He takes it a sign to keep going, which it is, and encloses his lips around it, sucking like his life depends on it, and holy fuck it feels good. The moans you’re unable, and honestly don’t care enough about anymore, to contain, incite him to alternate between sucking and licking at your nipple, other hand busy massaging your other breast at a matching pace and tail caressing the inner of your thigh, though that you’re not sure is intentional. It turns you on, nonetheless. Only after a while of it is he sufficiently satisfied before feeling like he needs to continue his ‘lesson’. He lets his teeth graze and slightly pull at your nipple as he pulls away. “Yeah I think I’m doing it right,” he boasts.

“Oh fuck you.”

“Ha! Not yet! I’m teaching Stolas how to eat some pussy first, would you mind?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Okay, we could give some more attention to the boobies-”

“Ew, Blitz! What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say fucking boobies!”

“It’s what they are!”

“You’re so fucking-” your words get caught on your throat when his tail wraps itself around your upper thigh, squeezing it tight enough to hurt just a bit. It feels good. “Fuck. Insufferable.”

“Can you let me finish? Ha. Finish. Anyway, we could keep on giving some more attention up there, but the lady seems really impatient, doesn’t she? So we can always just go back to that later.” Tail still wrapped around your upper thigh, he moves around from straddling you to opening your legs to make way for him to kneel between them. Wordlessly, he leans back down to kiss at your stomach, and his hands fly to the waistband of your shorts. He tugs on it and asks for confirmation that he can take it off, doing so as soon as he gets it. You lift up your hips to help him out and he discards the piece of clothing by purposefully throwing it directly at Stolas, who looks stunned by it for a second. 

You’re sure Blitzø’s next step is to just get to taking your panties off, but, instead, he wraps his hands behind your legs, pushing you to fold them and plant your feet to the mattress, and leaves small bites all over your inner thighs. Your breathing quickens as he gets closer and closer to where you simply need him at this point, but doesn’t get to it. You're torn between yelling at him to just get to it and just enjoying what he’s doing, however torturing it feels. You’re not torn anymore when he gives a rather harsh bite, tugging on the soft, plush skin of your thigh, sure to leave a mark, and decide on your first option. “Will you please get to it already, you fucking-” He knows you were about to insult him, and makes sure to shut you up just before you can, licking a stripe over your panties. “Shit. Yes.”

“The two of you really need to learn some fucking manners, you know? Have some fucking patience!” He scolds, and he tugs on the thin band of the lingerie with his pointer fingers, pleased with how you immediately respond with furious nodding, urging him to just fucking take it off already. He slides the underwear off your legs slowly as he keeps his words directed at Stolas. “Now if you’ve been doing things right, by the time you’re taking the panties off, she should be wet.”

“Not true for everyone,” you quip, and gasp in surprise when he grazes two of his fingers against your entrance, collecting the wetness and bringing them up for Stolas to inspect. It almost makes you want to die of embarrassment. 

“True for you, though. You ready for the best head of your fuckin life?”

“Highly doubt it.” 

He only sends you a smile, clearly confident, before lowering himself, hands parting your thighs further and wasting no time before licking a long stripe up from your hole to your clit, sending shivers through your spine. You let out a moan. It fuels him on, and he does it one, two, three times again before his tongue focuses solely to your clit, rolling it out in circles a few times. Your hands instinctively go to his head, taking hold of the base of his horns. What he’s doing feels good, but you know it can feel even better, so you guide his head to signal what you want- “Up and down.”

You’re not sure what his response to the demand will be, if he’ll scold you for telling him what to do, but he seems pleased to have you voicing exactly what you want. 

He pulls away for a second to comment on it. “That’s it, babe, tell me what you want.” He latches his mouth to your clit again, sucking on it a couple times before releasing it to go back to flicking his tongue at it, up and down this time, just as you urged him, and the feeling of it is heavenly. You assume.

You can feel a faint sign of your orgasm building inside of you as he keeps on for who-knows-how-long, and so it’s beyond frustrating when he pulls away altogether. 

“No! What the fuck?” 

“Hey, chill out! I gave a little demonstration, now we should let Stolas practice, shouldn’t we?”

As much as you want Blitzø’s mouth on you again, you don’t deny the suggestion, for Stolas is looking at you in such a mix of curiosity and hunger that it makes you crave his mouth on you too. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Stolas asks you, nervous. “Perhaps I’m not the most qualified to-”

“I’ll guide you, Stolas. Please?”

He only nods, taking Blitzø’s place between your legs. He stares, and it takes a lot of willpower not to close your legs at that. You remind yourself he’s curious, not judging- not only has he never gone down on a woman, the only woman he ever had sex with didn’t exactly have the same anatomy as you did. 

“There’s no clothes to take off anymore,” Stolas points out, nervous, as he runs Blitzø’s ‘demonstration’ on his memory again. 

Blitzø laughs. “That’s true. You just gotta dive right in. Long as it’s fine with the lady. Is it?”

“Yes.” You feel a little ridiculous in this position, being the object of some sort of sex lesson or whatever the fuck this had turned into, but, as soon as Stolas’ mouth is on you, Blitzø’s hungry eyes staring at the scene, it clicks that he wants to watch the two of you much rather than to genuinely be teaching Stolas anything. 

Stolas’ mouth is careful on you and his hands are unsure. Blitzø comes up behind him to place them on your waist, and the prince quickly gets the sign to grip at your sides. You’re surprised when he pulls your body down to him, pressing you to his mouth forcefully as he messily licks at your clit, reminding himself of the up and down motion you’d guided Blitzo into. You want more, more, more.

“Holy shit, Stolas, I want it inside. Please, please, please,” you plead, neverminding the fact he might be confused by the request. It doesn’t even cross your mind as you’re in the middle of it.

Stolas pulls away to turn and look at Blitzø, a silent question of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’ in his semblant. 

Blitzø lets out a laugh. “Your tongue, Stolas. She wants it inside her.” 

“Oh. Is that right, dear?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes-” he wastes no time in doing as he’s told- Stolas is very good at that, it seems. 

He gives your clit a kitten lick before slithering his tongue into your hole and, fuck, fuck, fuck, this is exactly what you wanted. He flicks it inside of you blindly and you can’t help but fuck yourself against it, thrusting against his mouth repeatedly to help him find a rhythm. It feels so good you feel that same feeling bubbling inside you again, your orgasm beginning to creep up again. It stays that way, though, and you realize what you want might be too much to ask of Stolas just yet. “Blitz?”

“Hm?” He’s watching the way you fuck yourself against Stolas’ face intently, barely registering the fact you’re speaking to him.

“Blitz. Your- your fingers.”

“What, birdy not good enough for ya?”

“It’s not that, I want- I want both of you.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Yeah I can do that. Scooch over, Stols.”

Your legs are opened impossibly wider, and Blitzø squeezes himself besides Stolas, who looks lost now. “What should I do?”

“Keep eating her out, yeah? Only difference is I’m gonna be fucking her with these while you do it,” he holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air. Stolas blushes at the implication of what’s to happen and Blitzø runs his thumb over your clit in an achingly slow pace before one of his fingers finds its way into your entrance, wet enough now that it doesn’t hurt, but he does it slowly, still, curling it around for a moment before checking in with you. “Y’alright?”

You hum in confirmation.

“Gonna give you another one, alright?”

“Please just fucking put it in, Blitz.” 

He doesn’t make any funny remarks at that, only doing as demanded. He inserts a second finger, and this time around it feels like you need a few more seconds to adjust to it, which he gives you. He curls both of them up tentatively, without moving them from their place, and is pleased with the coarse moan he manages to get out of you. 

Stolas takes the noise as a cue to dive right in once again, licking at your clit ferociously. The stimulation feels so undeniably amazing you feel your senses tune out. Blitzø begins a slow pace as he pumps his fingers inside you, curling them up ever-so-slightly, and Stolas matches his rhythm as he gives your clit the attention it so desperately needs, and you faintly register yourself making noises so unhinged they barely sound like you, the knot in your belly threatening to come loose. 

And then Blitzø lowers himself up and suddenly they’re making out, with each other, with your cunt, all the while Stolas’ fingers claw harshly at your thigh and the pace at which Blitzø’s fingers move inside you picks up, with him choosing to pump only deeper and deeper inside you instead of pulling his fingers out to insert them back in, and then it all fucking explodes. 

The mix between a moan and a scream that you let out could be a sound effect on one of those freakin’ Angel Dust movies. 

Blitzø is quick to take his fingers out of you and suck on them as soon as he’s made sure you’ve ridden down your high, and Stolas laps up at the remaining fluid that gushes out of you.

“Holy fucking shit,” you mutter out under your breath, chest heaving up and down. 

“Is that a good thing, dear?’ Stolas asks, and you can see he’s fighting a smile.

“Asshole. I know you know what an orgasm is like.”

“Well now I’m fucking hard,” Blitzø says, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to take a look at him. He is. His black underwear, stained with Stolas’ cum on the front, looks impossibly tight. 

“What’s that you said about wanting me to feel how perfect his dick feels inside me again, Stolas?”

“Oh, you want-” You take Stolas by the hand and pull him out of the bed with you, pushing him against the nearest wall before turning around with your back to him. 

You lock eyes with Blitzø, still sitting on the bed, confused as ever. 

He gets up off the bed, now standing, but doesn’t move towards the two of you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Well, what I’m planning doesn’t exactly sound the most comfortable lying down.”

“What are you planning?”

You tug at the back of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, Stolas?” His fingers fly to undo it and you let the piece of clothing fall to the floor in front of you, now entirely exposed. “Aren’t you coming?”

Blitzø wastes no more time, walking over to where the two of you stand in a hurry, taking his underwear off in his way, and your eyes widen at the sight of him completely naked in front of you. Fuck, you need, need, need him inside of you.

“How do you want me?” He asks, and you realize he’s sort of gotten the gist of your plans. 

Your turn around, facing Stolas again, body flushed against his. “Oh we’re recreating Stolas’ fantasy right now. Isn’t that what you asked for, Stolas?” You raise a hand to caress his cheek.  “I think you said something about me filling you up with my fingers? Is that so?”

“Yes,” he agrees, anticipation visible in his face as your other hand descends over his body slowly, knowing what’s coming next. You stop just before you reach his hole to tilt your head back on Blitzø’s shoulder. 

“Then he said something about how perfect you feel inside of him, that I just had to know what it feels like. Didn’t he?”

“Fuck. Fuck, you want me to-” Blitzø doesn’t finish his sentence, voice dying out at the proposition. 

“What, cat got your tongue now? Are you a pussy, Blitz?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Prove it then,” you tell him, before averting your attention back to Stolas, finally letting your fingers graze against his entrance. He hoots again, the second time the whole night, and you smile at it. “Look at me, yeah? Gonna give you what you want.” You press your middle finger into his hole and he sighs. You decide to take it slowly for now, circling around his answer, barely a knuckle in, teasing him to your heart’s content. 

The grin you sport is quickly wiped off your face as Blitzø parts your legs further apart with his foot and flushes his front to your back, aligning his dick with your hole, and you suck in a sharp breath in anticipation. “You ready?” He asks you, and, with a nod from you, he pushes himself in, inserting just his tip inside of you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper, to youself really, as the uncomfortable feeling of the intrusion turns into an uncomfortable feeling of needing more. 

“Right away,” he tells you, as if you’d been talking to him, and pushes his whole shaft in at once. Not forcefully enough that it hurts, but fast enough that he’s now fully buried inside you. He relishes in the gasp you let out and asks if he can move.

“Yes, yes, yes-” he begins moving, fucking you from behind at a torturingly slow pace, making sure to bury himself deeper and deeper with each calculated thrust. You insert your finger further inside of Stolas, whose voice gives up on him, inaudible gasps coming out as you match Blitzø’s rhythm in yourself. 

Blitzø isn’t exactly known for his patience though, and so it doesn’t take long for his pace to grow more erratic. The end of his tail entangles itself with yours and he holds your hips firmly, pulling them against his. You insert a second finger into Stolas, pressing them in deep, and he grabs your head with both his hands, shoving your face against the fluff of his chest.

“Fuck I knew you had to be nasty, but this? Shit, this is like combining every wet dream I ever fuckin’ had,” Blitzø mumbles as he fucks into you. 

“It’s his wet dream,” you let out, referring to Stolas, whose chest muffles your voice slightly, and you make a point out of curling your fingers up, making the prince let out a sinful moan.

“Oh and you’re not enjoying this?” Blitzø fucks deeper into you, harsh thrusts meant to prove a point. 

Suddenly, Stolas leans forward, over your shoulder, and pulls Blitzo into a bruising kiss that’s meant to shut the imp up. It works. Blitzø’s hips falter slightly for a moment as he gets used to the change, but he adjusts quickly to it. It’s so incomprehensibly hot, the way they make out over you, their moans meddling with each other’s, the way they pant, the way you can feel they’re as into this as you are. 

Blitzø pulls away from Stolas and his mouth goes directly to your collarbone, biting at it, as Stolas sucks at your neck at the same time. 

“Harder,” you plead, as you can feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching once again, and the feeling of it coils inside you in such a way that you know it’s going to hit you hard, and you chase your release blindly.

Blitzø smiles against your neck as he complies, fucking into you so impossibly harder, every roll of his hips so deliciously deep it could make you delirious with how perfectly he’s now managing to hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Just as before, you make sure your fingers hit Stolas just as deep, matching Blitzø’s now brutal pace, and the prince trembles against you, clearly close. Blitzø himself can’t even keep pretending he’s as unbothered as he’d like, seemingly also in a borderline delirious state as he aggressively thrusts against you, cursing over and over again under his breath.

“Fuck. Gonna cum, gonna cum-”He finishes first, and he does so with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he fills you up. You can feel his legs trembling, but he doesn’t let up his pace until he hears you call out for him.

“Shit. I’m so close- Please-” It must have taken all his willpower, but he ups his pace to match the way he’d been moving earlier, fast and hard, and, suddenly, you’re cumming. Not even just that, you can feel the liquid gush out of you as you squirt, cum dripping down your thighs and coating Blitzø’s cock, and the scream you let out pushes Stolas over the edge right after, too, and you let him fuck himself onto your fingers for a long as he needs to ride out his orgasm. 

It leaves all three of you a panting, gross, sticky mess, no sound emitted other than heavy breaths, chests heaving up and down as you come back to reality. 

You pull your fingers out of Stolas carefully, and he whines at the loss. Blitzø pulls himself out of you as well, and you bite down on your lip as to not do the same. Tasting Stolas on your fingers is exhilarating, and has you wishing you could go down on him. Later, maybe, you think to yourself, as you realize all of you seem to spent, too fucked out to jump right into another round. 

Coming down from your high to the silence that follows has you wondering if you should say something, do something, but leaves you stuck in place, as you have no idea what they usually do when they’re done. In hindsight, you probably should have asked Blitzø earlier- are you even allowed to stay any longer, to provide any sort of aftercare, or do you just clean yourselves up, get dressed, and leave? You don’t want to make things awkward by being the person to ask ‘what now?’ or something of the sort, so you wait for one of them to take the lead.

Stolas thankfully does. “We should get ourselves cleaned up.”

He leaves towards some other door inside his already gigantic room, and Blitzø immediately follows. You stay where you are, feet planted to the floor. Blitzø’s head appears in the door frame. “You coming?”

“Where?”

He utters no word as he walks up to you and drags you along with him into what you realize is a huge, beautiful bathroom. There’s a bathtub in the middle of it, the myriad of candles that surround it the only source of light in the room, and it somehow seems as if it’d just been drawn, steam coming out of the water, which made no sense. 

“When did you- how-”

Stolas laughs at your confusion. “I have got some spells under my sleeve, darling.”

Blitzø groans in annoyance. “Yeah yeah, now will you conjure me the fucking thing?”

Stolas’ smile falters for a fraction of a second before he agrees. “Of course, Blitzy, dear!” With a wave of his hand, a fucking shower materializes in a corner of the room. 

“Are you getting in?” Stolas asks you, motioning to the bathtub. He notices the confusion in your face. “Blitzy doesn’t like baths.”

“So you conjure him a fuckin’... magic shower or whatever whenever he comes over?” What the hell. 

“Well, yes. It’s not half as difficult as it sounds, trust me.” He slips into the bathtub, humming at the welcoming feeling of the hot water. “Do you enjoy baths?”

“Um. Sure. Yeah.” You glance at Blitzø for a moment, not missing the eye roll at the conversation. Oh, whatever. 

You get in, and Stolas promptly settles into washing your hair, because what even is reality? It feels nice, though you do wish Blitzø would share the moment with the two of you. You understand why he won’t, but tell yourself it’s fine, and you really want it to be, because the feeling of it is just nice, different from most times you’ve been intimate with anyone. No one’s ever drawn a magical bath for you and offered to wash your hair after sex before, that you’re sure of. 

When you’re all half-dressed again, you prepare yourself to bid Stolas goodbye and leave, only for Blitzø to be the first to launch himself back on Stolas’ bed, sprawling over it. Were you staying the night? 

What a weird fucking man. Can’t take a bath together after fucking you senseless but invites himself to stay over? In what realm is the latter less intimate? Still, you don’t find it in you to argue, plopping yourself to lie down next to him, Stolas following suit. 

You’ll think about it tomorrow.

[. . .]

“What’s got you so happy?” Millie asks you as you get ready to leave for Loo Loo Land, as Stolas has requested you work as security for him during his outing with Octavia, his daughter, which is something you wouldn’t normally do, but he must have offered a lot of money for Blitzø to agree. She’s asked you what your night at the palace had been like, but you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her in person about it yet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell her, checking your gun’s cartridge. 

“‘T’s probably the dick down she got this weekend,” Blitzø inserts himself into the conversation, and you send him a dirty look. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

A/N:I hope this doesn't suck omfg lmaooo and if the last few paragraphs do suck cut me some slack my brain is so fried at this point lol. anyways enjoy.

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

----------

a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!