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gudfornuthin · 4 months ago

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Unexpected Comfort

Season 4!Diego x fem!reader, (past) Five x reader

! SPOILERS AHEAD !

! MINORS DNI !

Summary: after finding out the news about Lila and Five’s relationship, Y/N needs to get away from it all. Who knew she’d find comfort in the one other person broken too?

Word count: 2.65k words

A/N: ayooo. I wanna thank everyone for the support I received from my Five fanfic, it means the world to me that people read and enjoy my writing. I’m definitely thinking about ideas for a part 2, and I also have some requests I need to complete, but for now this lil thing popped into my head and I had to make it. My sweet Diego deserved so much more. There’s fluff, there’s angst, there’s a lil bit of smut (I’m trying to get better at writing that lol) so I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Those were the words that came out of Five’s mouth before Y/N stormed out of the house, leaving behind the shocked faces of the Hargreeves siblings.

Five had cheated on her. With Lila. Diego’s wife, the mother of his children. She felt like throwing up. They’d created a life together, seeming to forget all about the life they had here, in the real world. Five tried explaining how a few hours to her had been years for him and Lila, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She couldn’t imagine giving up on a relationship she’d spent so long working on, like it meant nothing at all. At least they weren’t married with kids. She doesn’t want to think about how much this is killing Diego.

Having left the house, ignoring the calls from the family, Y/N continued walking for what seemed like hours. She wasn’t familiar with this side of town, and the dark streets all blended together. Had she already gone this way? Was there a bus stop she could seek shelter under for the time being? The night was getting colder and she was finding it hard to catch her breath, the tears still flowing. She knew she couldn’t continue on for much longer.

After walking a few more blocks, Y/N finally spots a bar/diner, the lights still on inside. Better than nothing, she thinks, as she slowly makes her way towards it, in desperate need of a drink.

The diner is quiet, only a few patrons scattered around, either drunk or on the verge of passing out. The bar tender nods in acknowledgment when Y/N sits on one of the bar stools, asking what she wants.

“I’ll just have a beer.”

The bar tender rolls his eyes. “What kinda beer?”

Y/N shrugs. “The cheapest one you’ve got.”

He wonders off to sort out her order, as she rests her head in the palms of her hands, closing her eyes and trying not to sob like a baby. The pain in her chest still lingers, as she can’t escape the images of Five and Lila, and the life they had made together. The life that should’ve been hers. With everything going on, she’d almost forgotten about the world ending, again. But that was surprisingly the least of her worries at the moment. She just wanted to scream, and punch and kick anything that got in her way. She needed a cigarette. And she doesn’t even smoke.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

A voice sounds off to the side of Y/N, as she slowly opens her eyes. A beer bottle stands in front of her, and she turns to her left, spotting Diego in the seat next to hers. He looks worse for wear. Red eyes, prominent frown lines, and a pouty lip.

“You look like a kicked puppy,” Y/N mumbles, not knowing what else to say.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Diego replies in a gruff voice, grabbing for her beer and taking a swig.

The pair go quiet, listening to the soft tune playing through the overhead speakers, dwelling in their own thoughts. The two of them had never exactly been close. Since Y/N joined the family she’d always gravitated more towards Klaus and Alison. Frankly, she didn’t understand why Diego was here with her. Maybe because they were both dealing with the same situation, with both their partners being the main focal point. Or maybe he was just in desperate need for a drink too, as shown when he downs the rest of the bottle. Y/N alerts the bar tender, putting up two fingers to ask for a second round. Hopefully she can actually have some this time.

“Was I a bad husband?” Diego finally speaks up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Y/N glances his way, unsure of how to respond.

She clears her throat. “I dunno if I’m the right person to answer that,” she scratches at the label on the beer bottle. “But from what I saw, you were pretty good at it.”

He doesn’t say anything, so she continues. “And you’re also a good dad. I can’t imagine how hard it was, going from one apocalypse to another, to just living a normal life. Pretending none of it ever happened. You didn’t let that get in the way of taking care of your kids. They know you’re a good dad.”

She notices the tears forming in Diego’s eyes and looks away, knowing he wouldn’t want others to see him cry. She sips her drink, the burning sensation hitting the back of her throat.

“For what it’s worth,” Diego starts, “you’re not a bad girlfriend.”

“I never thought I was,” Y/N bites back, her tone harsher than she wanted it to be. “But what are you supposed to think when the love of your life admits to having an affair?” She laughs bitterly. “With his fucking sister in law!”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here,” Diego says, rubbing incessantly at his eyes. “Just tryna make you feel better.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

They bask in silence again, both too stubborn to apologise for snapping at each other. They know neither of them are in the wrong. But the wounds are still fresh, and it doesn’t seem like they’ll heal anytime soon.

Almost an hour passes, along with 9 or 10 bottles of beer between them, when the bartender finally tells them it’s closing time. They both get out of their seats, leaving the bar and standing awkwardly outside in the cold, Y/N shivering having left the house without a coat.

“You cold?” Diego dumbly asks.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Well done, Sherlock.”

Diego looks as if he’s about to say something in retort, but chooses not to. Instead, he silently slips off his jacket, handing it over to her, insisting she takes it before she can refuse. She does so, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’. They continue standing outside the bar, watching the occasional car drive past, lighting them up every so often.

“I can’t go back there,” Y/N says. “Not yet anyways.”

It was a stupid thing to think that this could all be avoided. She’d eventually have to face Five properly, let him explain fully what happened during that time he was away. But she couldn’t. She doesn’t want an explanation, or an excuse. She just wants it erased from her memory. To forget about it all. To forget about Five.

Diego puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood to figure out that shit show tonight.”

He pauses for a beat, then briefly glances at Y/N. “There’s a motel not too far from here. We can grab a couple of rooms, take the time to get some rest, and figure all this out tomorrow.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nodding in agreement, and following Diego to their accommodation for the night.

***

The pair arrive at the dingy looking motel, booking two rooms next to each other, and muttering quick goodnights. Y/N can feel the exhaustion taking over, as she sits down on the bed, and yet the thought of falling asleep makes her anxious. She can’t remember the last time she went to bed alone. It was always Five right by her side, comforting her if she had any nightmares. Which had become more and more frequent the past few weeks.

She tries distracting herself by turning on the tv, flicking through empty channels and purposely avoiding the news. She takes a shower, scrubbing off the physical and metaphorical grime. It helps her feel slightly better, but still she’s wide awake. She walks laps around the room, which isn’t much considering the bed takes up most of the space. And yet she still can’t sleep.

Her mind wanders to the man in the room next to hers. Is Diego having the same issues as she is? Or has he completely worn himself out to the point of passing out for the next several hours. Is it too forward if she goes over there and asks to stay with him for the night? He could end up giving her a weird look and slamming the door in her face. Or he could see a woman, sad and distressed, and know she’s just in need of someone to comfort her. The risk is worth the reward.

Y/N leaves her room, stumbling slightly over her own feet, the alcohol starting to take effect. She steadies herself, standing in front of Diego’s door and knocking. It takes a moment, but he finally opens, shirtless and hair a mess.

“What’s up?” He says, his voice gruff.

Standing in front of him now, Y/N can’t help but feel stupid. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her problems right now, not when he’s still trying to figure out his own. The only thing on Diego’s mind is most likely Lila, and getting some much needed rest. This was a bad idea.

“Uh,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing, no. I shouldn’t have disturbed you, I’m sorry.”

She begins to walk away, trying not to fall over, until Diego’s voice calls her name. She turns, seeing him standing half way out of his room, a sad expression on his face.

“Neither of us really wanna be alone right now,” he says, motioning slightly for her to follow him through the door.

She waits a second, unsure if this was the best idea. Now feeling as if they were both about to cross a barrier that neither of them could walk back through.

Taking the plunge, Y/N silently follows Diego into his room, closing the door behind her. She suddenly felt nervous, unsure as to why. Diego is already back in bed, getting comfortable under the covers, ready for a much needed sleep. Y/N looks at the bed, then towards the small couch, not knowing which one she’s welcome on.

“Diego…”

“It’s fine,” he rolls over, not looking at her. “You can build a pillow wall if it’ll make you feel better.”

Y/N nods, not wanting to admit how glad she was that she could sleep next to Diego tonight. She’d feel this way about anyone at the moment, right? It’s got nothing specifically to do with him. Her mind is racing, as she climbs into bed, hoping to fall into a deep slumber as quick as. She doesn’t build a pillow wall.

***

Barely an hour passes before Y/N is woken up suddenly by a sound. She sits up in bed, eyes bleary and watery, looking around the room with squinting eyes. The bathroom light is on, shining through the cracks, and Diego is no longer beside her.

She hears the sound again, a soft whimper, barely audible. It’s coming from the bathroom, and she can already guess who it is. She slowly scoots out of bed, tiptoeing on unsteady feet towards the door, knocking slightly. No answer. And the noise has stopped.

She knocks again, trying the door handle at the same time. It budges, as she gradually pulls it open. The sight was heartbreaking. Diego sits in a curled up ball in the corner, covering his face, and desperately trying to stop his heavy breathing. He doesn’t acknowledge Y/N’s presence, as she moves over to him, crouching down. She gently grabs his hands, pulling them away to see his red, tear stained face.

“I’ve lost everything,” he whispers, breaking Y/N’s heart more than it already was. “I feel like my life’s over.”

Y/N strokes his hands, trying her best to soothe him in anyway that might work.

“I have no purpose without her,” he continues. “I try saving the world, but I couldn’t save the one thing that matters the most to me. I’m useless.”

“That is not true,” Y/N finally replies, hating these thoughts running through Diego’s mind. “Her actions are not a reflection on you.”

Diego begins to protest, but Y/N quickly shuts him down. “I know how much you care. Sometimes I think you care a little too much. But that just proves how good of a husband and father you were. You did nothing wrong. It’s all on her. And Five.”

She chokes out the last part, almost forgetting about her own problems. They’re both going through this, together.

Y/N doesn’t even realise she’s now crying too, holding her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs. Diego reaches out, pulling her into a bone crushing hug, the pair needing comfort from each other more than anything.

She moves her head back slightly, kissing Diego on the forehead, then the cheek, then hesitating at his lips. Her mind feels fuzzy, as the alcohol in her system still lingers, jumping between the pros and cons of what she’s about to do. Diego makes the decision for her.

The kiss is soft at first, his moustache tickling her upper lip, the sensation of it weird but not unpleasant. She wraps her arms around his neck as he puts his hands on both sides of her face, deepening it into a full blown make out session. Y/N opens her mouth, allowing Diego to slip his tongue in, eliciting a quiet moan from her.

Their current position is uncomfortable, as Diego sits pressed up against the sink with Y/N crouched down in front of him. He pushes her back slightly, so they can both stand, never stopping the kiss. The room feels hot, as they walk out of the bathroom and aim for the bed, Diego sitting down on the edge with Y/N straddling his lap. She quickly removes her top and bra, drawing the man’s attention to her breasts. He moves away from her lips, traveling down until he’s eye level with her chest. He takes one in his mouth, sucking harshly, while his hand massages the other.

“Oh fuck,” Y/N sighs, throwing her head back.

She grabs his hair, pulling a fistful of it, forcing Diego to suck harder. She moves her hips back and forth on his crotch, desperately wanting to get out of the rest of her clothes.

As if reading her mind, Diego pulls back, moving them both higher up the bed, quickly removing his pants as Y/N does the same. Now completely nude, the pair become a sweaty mess of body and limbs, wrapping themselves around each other, and making sounds the other occupants in the motel can definitely hear.

Diego’s thrusts are meticulous, as he hooks one of his arms under her leg, pushing in and out, knowing all the right places to make Y/N scream out in ecstasy. He kisses her lips, her neck, her chest and her breasts, not wanting to leave out any part of her. He makes her feel wanted, admired, needed. Like he can’t breathe without her. It feels good. They carry on into the night, and early morning, for a moment all their problems don’t exist anymore.

***

Y/N wakes up first. Her head is pounding, her mouth is dry, and there’s a dull ache between her legs. She grumbles, the memories of last night rushing back to her in an instant. Some good, some bad, and some unforgettable. A small part of her is consumed with guilt, knowing what she did could be seen as hypocritical.

But as Diego’s strong arm wrapped around her waist pulls her closer to his chest, snuggling into her neck, that feeling washes away. In some selfish way, they both needed this. An eye for an eye, as most would say. It’s not going to end well, and she knows they’ll have to eventually deal with the consequences the same way Five and Lila did, but for now, the rest of the world can wait a while. Y/N turns around, moving impossibly closer to Diego, the man who made her feel wanted at a time where she didn’t think she was.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy spoilers #tua s4 spoilers #tua spoilers #tua s4 #x reader

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hungermakesmonsters · 17 days ago

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The Red Ribbon

Chapter One

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6k

A/N : This is a little something I've been toying with for a while. It's only going to be a short thing (3 parts) over the next few weeks. There's no upload schedule but it'll probably be posting on Fridays anyway 😅 Also I've been ill all week so that's my excuse for typos

Master List

Chapter One

“Remind me why I hired you?”

His voice was a cold snap that caused your cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Even on his birthday, your boss was an asshole.

Your hands trembled as you tried to restack the files that you’d clumsily manage to drop all over his office floor. The contents of the files had spilled out and you already knew that it was going to take you hours to make sure the correct paperwork ended up back where it was supposed to be.

“It wasn’t a rhetorical question,” he added a moment later. “Why did I hire you?”

“Because your other assistants keep quitting,” you muttered under your breath.

It was humiliating, scrabbling around on his office floor, the carpet scrapping your bare knees as you tried to pick everything up as quickly as possible.

“What was that?” He asked.

It was reasonable to guess that he hadn’t heard you - you were certain he would have been a lot angrier if he’d heard you. Still, you hated yourself for letting it slip out. As much as you hated the way your boss treated you, the pay was good. Too good to quit.

“I said I’m sorry Mr Russo,” you answered softly, managing to grab the last of the files and get back to your feet. “I’ll get these sorted and have them on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“I hope you’re planning on staying late.”

“What?” The word spilled from your lips before you had the chance to stop it.

“Do you have somewhere else to be? Something more important than fixing your fuck up and doing the job I pay you to do?” Mr Russo asked.

As a matter of fact, you did have somewhere else to be and something that was more important than fixing the potential Anvil candidate files that you’d managed to dump all over his office floor, but you couldn’t tell him that.

There was only one person who knew how you spent your nights, and it certainly wasn’t your boss. No, if Billy Russo knew where you went after your days at Anvil, he’d see to it that he had your resignation in his hand by the end of the day. And you were sure the same could be said of your night job.

“No, Mr Russo,” you answered, dropping your gaze to the floor, “I don’t have anywhere more important to be.”

“Good answer,” he said as he grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and pulled it on. He moved towards his office door, stepping past you as if you were just another piece of furniture, a spare chair in the way. “And don’t even think about leaving that unfinished. I’ll be in at 5am so you’re not going to have the opportunity to sneak in early tomorrow to finish up.”

He didn’t even wait for a half-hearted ‘yes, Mr Russo�� before leaving for the day.

You glanced at your watch, doing the maths in your head; you should have been finishing in ten minutes time, at five o’clock, which would have given you three hours to get home, eat, and then get across town to work your night job.

The Red Ribbon was New York's most exclusive gentlemen's club - though to call it a gentlemen’s club was somewhat outdated as, these days, it catered to the needs and desires of wealthy clientele regardless of gender identity and sexual orientation. But, it had been considered a gentlemen’s club since the 1950s, and the verbiage was surprisingly hard to shake.

The club offered something that few similar establishments did; total anonymity for both guests and workers. There were no cameras in The Red Ribbon, no phones or recording devices were allowed. And everyone wore masks. The only way to tell the staff from the clientele were the red ribbons worn about their necks.

You’d been working at The Red Ribbon for the last six months. At the start you’d tended bar, not wanting to get too hands-on with the customers - not because you had any strong feelings or moral objections about those that did, but mostly because you didn’t think you’d be any good at it. You’d never been the sort to consider yourself graceful, much less sexy, but you could make a mean espresso martini and you were great with pointless smalltalk.

The money was good, but it wasn’t good enough, not when you had debts and financial obligations.

At The Red Ribbon, the hosts made the most money, each getting assigned to one of the private rooms and being tasked with taking care of the customers' needs for the whole night. It was ultimately up to the host what taking care of the customer entailed though boundaries were firmly established before the host set foot in the private room. Every host had their own limits, some were happy to touch and be touched, some took it further still, and others preferred a hands-off approach.

If there was one thing The Red Ribbon was known for beyond the total anonymity it offered, it was the level of security. Everyone who set foot through the doors knew better than to cause trouble or push the boundaries of any member of staff.

You’d made the switch from bartender to host slowly, filling in whenever someone was out sick or when you needed a little extra money. You were slow to warm to it but, to your surprise, you found that you actually enjoyed it. Though you stayed firmly in the no touching or being touched camp, the tips you made in one night were still more than you made over a whole week tending bar.

But, when that money still wasn’t enough to cover your debts, you took a day job.

And that was how you’d ended up spending an evening hunched over a desk at Anvil, trying desperately to match paperwork with the correct file for a boss who’d made it pretty clear that he didn't like you and thought you were too inept for your job.

By the time you were done, you barely had the chance to make it home and shower and, instead of eating a proper meal, you ate a Snickers bar on the subway.

The Red Ribbon had a special entrance for staff that used old prohibition tunnels and a hidden elevator to get you into the building and up to the top floor.

New York was stunning from fifty floors up and, some nights, you’d find yourself in the locker room just staring out at the skyline as you changed into your uniform. But tonight you didn’t have the luxury of time.

You stood in front of the schedule, checking which room you were in and which mask you’d be wearing. While bar staff and servers all wore the same elegant black and red masks to obscure their faces, hosts wore individual masks that corresponded with the room they’d be working. Tonight you were in the rabbit room, so you plucked the ornate rabbit mask from its hook on the wall.

Of all the masks, the rabbit had always been your favourite because of the detailing on the ears and the way it just sat right on your face.

You always got such a rush from pulling a mask on and heading out into the club. Under any other circumstance the thought of walking around in a revealing black bodysuit would have been embarrassing, but once you had your mask on, you felt almost powerful, like a superhero with a secret identity. With the mask, you weren’t you, you were whatever part you were playing and tonight you were Bunny, and Bunny could be whoever you wanted her to be.

The last part of your uniform was the red ribbon that you tied around your neck, the very thing that distinguished staff from customers, and gave the club its name.

You gave yourself one last look in the floor to ceiling mirror, making sure that you looked ready to handle whatever the night had to throw at you, before finally stepping out into the main area of the club.

Once you passed the threshold, everything about you changed; you held your head high and walked through the club like you owned the place. Here you weren’t the quiet little PA who had to keep her mouth shut in case her boss decided to fire her. Here you called the shots.

The spring in your step became even more noticeable as you climbed the stairs and headed onto the walkway that led to the private rooms, each situated above the dancefloor with views of the whole club.

“Hey, lil Bunny,” an all too familiar face said.

You grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Rocky, one of the club's security guards, a man, who in any other circumstances would terrify you. He was a huge behemoth of a man, truly deserving of the title Built Like a Brick Shit-House. To the patrons, he was the one they didn’t want to get on the bad side of, but to you and the rest of the staff, he was safety incarnate.

“Hey, Rocky,” you said, bumping fists with him as you came to a stop in front of him.

He’d taken something of a shine to you on your first night at The Red Ribbon - he later told you it was because you reminded him of his sister who’d died only a few years before. Since then he’d always kept a close eye on you.

After bumping fists, you kept your arm outstretched so he could fit your security bracelet for the night; a very ornate looking panic button that you could use discreetly if you needed Rocky to deal with a problem customer.

“You let me know if you need anything,” he said softly but seriously.

And, with that, you were on your way again, slipping into the rabbit room with a few minutes to spare before your guest arrived. You did a quick sweep of the room, making sure everything was tidy before turning on the music and checking the bar and, finally, you lowered the lights.

Less than five minutes later, a group of men were shown into the room, each wearing plain black masks that covered the top half of their faces, and each dressed to the club's high standards. Though, just from looking at them you could tell that some were more comfortable in suits than others.

“Welcome to The Red Ribbon, I’m Bunny and I’ll be your host for the evening and I’ll be running the bar for you, so make yourselves comfortable and I’ll get you your first round,” you announced and, with a flourish of your hand, you waved them towards the sofas.

You took drink orders and made a point of saying a little personal hello to each of them, knowing that it’d help win you tips by the end of the night.

As far as groups went, they seemed decent enough, not exactly what you’d call reserved by any stretch, but they seemed to be happy to talk amongst themselves while you tended bar, not expecting anything more of you.

After about half an hour, one of them broke away from the group and headed towards the bar. You couldn’t help but watch him, taking in the perfect way that his suit fit his tall, slender frame.

He took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and flashed you the sort of smile that you were sure had panties dropping all across the five boroughs on a regular basis.

“What can I get you?” You asked.

“Another scotch would be great.”

“Sure thing.”

You were acutely aware of the way his eyes followed your every movement as you grabbed a bottle and fresh glass with ice. Your skin felt like it was tingling under his gaze - he wasn’t leering, it felt more like he was appreciating.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said.

For a second you wondered if it was a line - it certainly sounded like a line - but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you think he was actually being serious.

“What makes you say that?” You asked in your playful voice, deciding to indulge him.

“I’d remember seeing you.”

He wasn’t shy about drinking in the sight of you. At any other time you might have felt disgusted, but it was part of the job and you probably would have been more offended if he wasn’t checking you out.

“Hmm, and what exactly is it you think you’d remember?” You retorted playfully.

He grinned at that, a laugh rumbling in his chest. And his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes almost seemed to twinkle.

“I’m not sure it’d be considered polite if I was to get... anatomical,” he joked.

“It’s my ass, isn’t it?” You offered offhandedly, breaking any tension or sense of shame.

His grin grew wider, though there was a hint of surprise on his face too, like he hadn’t quite expected you to be so forward.

“Now that you mention it, you do have a very nice ass,” he agreed, “in fact that whole thigh-ass area is perfection.”

You could feel warmth spreading across your cheeks and down your neck, and you were glad of the low lights and the mask on your face. While you were used to comments on your body and what men wanted to do with you while working, there was something different about this. This felt like flirting. Honest to god flirting. And it had been a long time since anyone had tried to flirt with you.

Out in the real world, his comment would have turned you into a shy mess, but behind the bunny mask... well, let’s just say that Bunny wanted to play.

“Oh, a thigh man as well?”

“I’m a man of refined tastes,” he shrugged.

His grin had you wishing you could see the rest of his face. You were already trying to picture what he might look like behind the mask but you were certain that your imagination was not doing it justice.

“And what else does that taste extend to?” You asked, leaning across the bar a little more as you slid his drink towards him.

His fingers briefly covered yours - rougher than you’d expected - before you slowly pulled your hand away. For a split second, you felt your breath catch, and there was a flicker of something on his face that made you think he’d felt it too, that moment of electricity when you’d touched.

“Are we still talking anatomically? Because I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about your tits for the last five minutes.”

Again, it wasn’t the sort of comment you’d put up with in any other situation but, then and there, in a place where you held all the power, you liked hearing it. The fact that he’d been allowed into The Red Ribbon meant that he was someone, that he was rich and powerful, so for poor, boring you to be the object of his desires gave a thrill like no other.

You let slip another laugh, propping yourself against the bar with a hand beneath your chin, eyes fixed on Mr Tall, Dark and Playful.

“Only the last five minutes?” You said, almost sounding distraught.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Bunny,” he remarked, leaning towards you as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip.

“I get the feeling that you like trouble.”

“You have no idea...”

It would have been a lie to say that the temptation to carry on the flirtatious conversation wasn’t increasing with every passing second; it was fun, you were actually enjoying it rather than just being subjected to it. But he wasn’t the only person in the room who wanted your attention and you had a job to do.

“Looks like your friends want some attention too,” you said, nodding your head towards the group of men still sitting at the table. One of them was waving you over, obviously in desperate need of another drink.

“Animals, the lot of them,” he said, almost fondly. “I should have known they had selfish reasons for bringing me here on my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” You asked and received a nod in response, before shaking your head and muttering; “another Sagittarius...”

“Another?”

You looked at him, almost embarrassed that you’d let it slip out and that you’d blurred the line between your real life and Bunny.

“Just a guy I know,” you shrugged.

“He break your heart or something? Need me and the guys to pay him a visit?” He offered playfully.

Another laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but think about how strange it felt to be able to genuinely laugh with one of the customers. After months of perfecting your customer service laugh, you’d never expected to find yourself actually laughing at some off-handed comment. Especially when the comment was about a stranger going to beat the shit out of your boss for being mean to you.

“No, it’s okay. I can handle myself.”

“I’ll bet you can, Bunny.”

“Well,” you said, definitively, changing the subject and taking your thoughts away from your terrible day-boss, “happy birthday. I think you deserve something fancy to drink.”

He grinned as you turned away to fish a bottle of champagne from the wine fridge and grab enough glasses for him and his friends.

“This place is really somethin’ else,” a second voice said. “I know you said the girls were pretty but... holy shit.”

Tall, Dark and Playful gave a laugh.

“Prettiest girls in New York are all right here,” he said, clapping his friend on the back.

“Careful boys, my ears are burning,” you joked as you turned back to them.

“It's a beautiful woman's fate to be the subject of conversation wherever she goes,” he said.

“Didn't expect to hear anyone quoting Dorian Gray tonight,” you answered back, amused.

He looked almost surprised by the comment, his jaw dropped slightly and his eyes grew a little wider.

“You’ve read Dorian Gray?” He asked. “You like to read?”

“Does that surprise you?” You asked, your mask hiding the way your eyebrow rose. “Do you not think girls like me can read the classics?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s -” he glanced at his friend beside him, then to the group sitting at the table. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but from some of the hand gestures being made, you could guess that it was something filthy, “- it’s just that I'm not used to being around people who can actually read.”

He got a rough punch in the arm from the guy beside him for that, and you started to laugh again.

They continued to talk while you popped the champagne and started to fill glasses for the whole party. You placed one in front of the birthday boy, and one in front of his friend, before loading up a tray and taking the rest to the party at the table.

“Champagne to toast the birthday boy,” you said with a cheeky smile, earning a round of cheers from the men.

When you returned to the bar, Tall and Dark’s friend passed you, heading back to the group, leaving the birthday boy all alone.

“Not gonna drink with your friends?” You asked.

It was hard not to feel curious - it was part of the job, the masks, the hidden identities, there were always so many unanswered questions.

“I’ve never been one for birthdays,” he answered with a shrug, but still shot you a smile before lifting his champagne flute to his lips.

“Hmm so the mysterious, handsome stranger has a tragic backstory,” you said playfully.

“I don’t know if I’d call it tragic,” he said, his shoulder ticking upwards uncomfortably.

“Should I ask?”

Probably not, you thought. But some part of you wanted to know, wanted to prod and poke until you had him all figured out.

“My mother abandoned me a few hours after I was born,” he stated flatly.

Oh.

Shit.

You didn’t expect him to laugh when he looked at you again, his head shaking. “Don’t look so shocked, it was a long time ago and I’ve come a long way since then.”

“I just -” the confidence of Bunny slipped for a moment, leaving only you; the clumsy girl with a heart that often felt far too big, “- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve joked...”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve had plenty of time to get over it. Besides, the way I figure it, she did me a favour. You want soft kids, coddle them and treat them well.”

“Wouldn't know anything about that,” you said with a wry smile. “My parents definitely didn't coddle us.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“That all I'm getting?” He asked, smiling that playful smile again.

“Getting personal defeats the point of the masks, don't you think?” You retorted, leaning to top up his drink.

“I suppose,” he answered, pausing for a beat before continuing, “I guess you could tell me anything and I'd have to take your word for it.”

“You don't strike me as the sort of man who's trusting enough to do something like that.”

It was something you could see in his eyes, the way they took you in and watched every little flicker of emotion that crossed your face.

“Then why don't we play a game?” He offered. “We each get to ask a question, and you get to call the other out if you think they’re lying. And if I catch you in a lie, you have to tell me something true.”

Your eyes narrowed a little, trying to get a measure of him. Normally you were reasonably good at reading people - though maybe a lot of that came from working various PA and secretarial positions, needing to be able to anticipate your boss’ shitty moods.

“Okay, you’re on,” you agreed, “but a few ground rules; you’re not allowed to ask about who I am or anything that might identify me.”

“Sounds fair.” He lifted his champagne and took a slow drink but his eyes never left you. “What are you most afraid of?”

That caught you off guard. It was more serious than you’d anticipated.

“You could ask me almost anything, but that’s what you want to know?”

“You can tell a lot about a person by what they’re scared of,” he said, shrugging.

You took a second to consider your answer.

“Jellyfish.”

“Really, Bunny, you’re gonna lie right outta the gate?”

“Okay, fine,” you said with a huff, hating that he’d caught you out already. “I guess I’m most scared of dying alone, but jellyfish are a close second.”

“You think you’re gonna die alone?” He asked.

There was something in his voice that seemed to suggest he didn’t get it, or maybe it was that he thought it would never happen. Little did he know that you - the real you - didn’t exactly have the best luck with men.

“That’s two questions. Don’t I get a turn?” You asked, deciding to dodge his question.

Tall and Dark relented and gave a wave of his hand.

“What do you hate most about New York?”

“Hate?” He repeated.

“Everyone always loves the same things about the city, but most people hate something different,” you explained.

You watched him closely as he considered his answer, looking for anything that might tell you if he was about to lie to you.

“The subway. It stinks of piss and there’s always too many people.”

You had to give him that one for obvious reasons, though he didn’t strike you as the kind of guy who used the subway all that often.

“When was the last time you used the subway?”

“That’s two questions, Bunny,” he chided playfully.

“Fine. Your turn.”

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“What? You think that this wasn’t my career goal?” You said, barely holding back a laugh as you shook your head. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of phases; I wanted to be a vet until I lost my first hamster, wanted to be a doctor until my brother broke his arm, and I wanted to be a lawyer but I have a conscience...”

The birthday boy laughed with you, smiling at you, obviously happy enough with your answer because he didn’t call you out, making it your turn again.

“What’s your favourite place in New York?” You asked.

“Right here,” he said. “Right now. With you.”

“Yikes, what a line,” you said, smirking at him despite the heat in your cheeks. “Do lines like that usually work for you?”

“Normally I don’t need lines.”

“No?”

“People - women - usually make their minds up about me pretty quickly, and it’s rarely because of anything I have to say,” he explained.

You watched as he lifted his glass and drained his drink. Without needing to be asked, you refilled his glass. There was a pang of sadness in you, for him, for what he obviously had to go through.

“You must be pretty rich then,” you said, managing to keep the playful tone.

“Oh filthy rich,” he confirmed.

“Emphasis on the filthy part.”

He smirked at that.

The longer the conversation went on, the stranger it felt; it didn’t feel like work anymore, and you almost wished that it wasn’t. But moments like this didn’t happen to you out in the real world. He probably wouldn’t even look at you twice if he saw you in the light of day.

“Anyway, I call bullshit. There must be somewhere you like better than here, even if you are enjoying my company,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded with an almost rueful smile, “there’s a baseball field in Brooklyn. I used to go there when I was a kid to watch other kids play...”

There was more to it, even you could tell that much, but it seemed personal - far more personal than you were prepared to get with him.

“You like baseball?”

“Liked,” he said, correcting you and adding another layer of uncertainty. “And that’s two questions.”

“Sorry, I’m not used to playing games when I’m tending bar,” you said, topping up his glass again before glancing towards his friends. “And, on that note...”

Again, you felt his eyes on you as you moved around the bar and headed to his friends, checking that everyone was having a good time and taking orders for fresh drinks.

“Think you’ve made the birthday boy’s night,” one of them said.

“Yeah, normally he slips out of his birthday parties after the first hour,” another commented, and they all laughed.

And, as you made your way back towards the bar (towards him), you couldn’t help but wonder what his birthdays were usually like.

“Hope they weren’t giving you any trouble,” he said as you slipped behind the bar and put the empty glasses you’d gathered to the side so you could start getting fresh drinks.

“No, you’ve all been perfect gentlemen,” you said, smiling at him, your face obviously showing some degree of relief because he quickly commented on it.

“Are there times when guys aren’t gentlemen?” He asked.

There was something in his tone, a hint of - what? - protectiveness, or anger maybe.

“Sometimes, but that’s what Rocky is for,” you said, nodding your head towards the door.

“The big guy?” He asked and you nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t fancy my chances with him.”

Filling a tray with the fresh drinks, you went back to the table and passed them around before heading back to him again, taking up the spot on the opposite side of the bar from him, leaning your elbow on the bartop.

“So,” you said, almost decidedly, “want to tell me why you’re spending your birthday night out talking to me and not with your friends?”

He seemed to hesitate, but only for a split second.

“I thought it was my turn.”

“It is,” you conceded, “if you want to keep playing, but I think you might enjoy your birthday more if you spent it with friends.”

“We could be friends.”

“Friends don’t check out each other's asses, handsome.”

“Oh, so you’ve been checking out my ass?” He said as a grin tugged at his lips.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “Something about men in well tailored pants drives me wild.”

The birthday boy let out another laugh, and it was such a happy sound that he drew glances from his friends, all of them wondering just what it was you’d said to manage to get a response like that from him.

He grabbed his glass and got to his feet.

“This isn’t over, Bunny,” he said before heading towards his friends.

Over the rest of the night, you found yourself watching him, always coming up with a teasing or playful remark whenever you went across to get them fresh drinks (oh, you wanted a drink, I just thought you wanted to stare at my ass again and I know how much you enjoy watching me walk away).

And he watched you, too.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps under his attention and you quickly came to love the sensation. Never in all your time working at The Red Ribbon had you felt such a connection with a guest, and you probably never would again.

So, when they all finally stood to leave, you felt a pang of regret - you shouldn’t have sent him back to his friends, you should have kept him with you so you could talk more.

Each of the guys said their thanks, each dropping bills into the tip jar by the door on their way out.

One of them stopped and looked at you, a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. I dunno what you said to him but I ain’t seen him like this in a long time.”

Your heart stuttered, not sure what it was you could have done to inspire such a change in a man you didn’t even know.

You noticed him linger as the door swung shut behind the last of his friends and, at any other time, that would be cause for concern but something told you that you weren’t in danger. Not from him.

“Something else I can help you with?” You asked, as playful as ever.

“Plenty,” he said, his smile dropping a little. “But everything I want would break the rules, and the last thing I want is to get banned when there’s a chance I might see you again.”

It was sweet how oddly accepting he was of how things were, how they had to be. It made it harder to watch him walk away knowing that you might not see him again. You’d never felt such an instant connection with a stranger before, especially not a stranger who’d seen this side of you, a stranger who knew what you did for a living and didn’t judge you for it.

Against your better judgement, you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, before pulling back slightly. You lingered close, watching the way the corner of his lip ticked upwards and heard the slightest catch of his breath.

“Well, here’s hoping you can tell who I am the next time you see me,” you offered in little more than a whisper.

Slowly, cautiously, his hand lifted to your face and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was the barest of touches, so light that he might not have even touched you at all, but you felt a warmth spread across your skin nonetheless.

“I’ll know, Bunny,” he said with a certainty that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m gonna find you again.”

“Promises, promises,” you joked, wanting to keep the mood light, knowing that the odds of seeing him again were small. And, with that thought, you found yourself leaning forward again, this time pressing your lips to his for the briefest of seconds. “Something to remember me by.”

Then you stepped back, creating space between your body and his, a silent signifier that the night was over.

“I will find you,” he said again. “I always get what I want, Bunny, one way or another.”

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you said, avoiding answering his comment.

He gave you one last look, drinking in the sight of you from head to toe, and you felt your whole body warm in response. Then he left, leaving you alone with your racing heart and the promise that you’d see him again.

It should have worried you; the way he’d spoken to you, the way he’d been looking, and the fact that he wanted to find you again. But it didn’t. Instead of worry, all you felt was want, even if you knew that the man behind the mask might be someone completely different. Even if you knew the man behind the mask probably wouldn’t be interested in who you were when you weren’t playing Bunny.

Later that night as you laid in bed, your vibrator between your thighs and his dark eyes in your mind, you wondered what he was doing. Your eyes closed tight, picturing him standing over you, watching as you fucked yourself. He’d smile that playful smile down at you and slowly grip his cock - and, fuck, his cock was probably as perfect as the rest of him.

You longed to know what he looked like beneath the mask and beneath the expensive clothes.

You wanted to know what it felt like to be touched by him, for him to kiss you and hold you. For him to fuck you.

No matter what you imagined as you slid the vibrator in and out your body, your thoughts continued to return to one thing; his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, wanted to make him laugh and see them sparkle. You wanted to see them darken with need as he fucked you and took what he wanted from you.

I always get what I want, he’d told you. And he wanted you.

A loud moan tore from your lips as you came, your whole body shivering with pleasure at the thought of this strange and alluring man getting what he wanted from you.

Then, with a heavy sigh, you sank back on your bed and curled up, the usual feelings of insecurity quickly filling you again.

He’d probably forget all about you; everything he’d said had probably just been to try and get something more than you’d been prepared to give. He’d probably already forgotten you...

Little did you know that, across town, Billy Russo was fisting his cock to thoughts of you without knowing it was you he was thinking of, his hand stroking up and down his length as he stood in the shower. He jerked off to thoughts of your body, your laugh, your smile. He pictured all the ways that he wanted you, his Bunny, all the things he wanted to do.

Your plump and pretty lips would look good wrapped around his cock, and your plush thighs would no doubt feel amazing wrapped around his head as he feasted on your cunt.

He licked his lips for what must have been the hundredth time since you kissed him and was, yet again, disappointed that there was no lingering taste of you.

As he came, he knew that he had to have you. He would find you again, and he would make you his if it was the last thing he did.

A/N : I feel weird when I don't post on a Friday, so here's a new thing 😅 like I said at the start, this will just be a short, sweet thing (3 parts and done), but hopefully it'll be a lot of fun and a little bit more playful/light-hearted compared to Love, Sick Love. (And I promise no cliffhanger ending to this one 😅) If you've played TellTale's The Wolf Among Us, that's where I got the ribbon idea from (well that and that old ghost story... but no ones head is going to fall off in this, I promise).

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged. I'm not going to full commit to posting every Friday for this because I work in retail and, as you can imagine, it's hectic at the moment, but I want to try and post at least once a week since this is only going to be a short story.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Also I can't remember if anyone else asked to be tagged in all future Billy stories, if I've missed you please shout at me.

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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kousanosgf · 21 days ago

Text

men, minors dni

sevika x f!reader

this was written for a request by @moonylvs ᜊ about sweet but secretly strong reader. also this is heavily inspired by laufey's vibes.

tags: fluff that's it i guess haha

you weren't someone interesting. another one of those semi popular zaunites singers. performing your jazzy lovey dovey songs couple days a week in a bar. for sevika you were a background noise as she came and went for another round of drinks, a game or a more of a casual business meeting.

it's not like she didn't notice. it, probably, was impossible to ignore your presence, always sticking for an hour or two after your shift, chatting with your friends. it seemed like everyone was at least acquainted with you. you were a real social butterfly, flying lightly between tables, paying attention to everything the visitors had to say. sevika even shared a word with you the first time she came and you made sure to introduce yourself.

cute. all that she thought. nothing more really. and if you were a little more pushy with her, the overall sweet image of you would've turned annoying quickly.

another day, another evening at the bar. sevika chose to spend it with the group of friends after work, catching up. though there was nothing much to discuss. the week was relatively calm for all of them. sevika's eye wondered, scanning the rest of the patrons as she was half-listening to her friend's story. her gaze got caught on you in the passing. already finished with your set, you were lounging at the bar counter with the glass of your favorite cocktail in hand, talking to some guy. nothing new around here too, sevika thought. as hours passed, she continued to look around occasionally, wishing to go home and end this boring evening.

finally, something caught her interest. your frame was becoming more dense, little high-pitched giggles that were reaching her ears gave off strained tones every time sevika slid her gaze your way. she didn't paid it much attention at first. who knew how you reacted to your dates, maybe it's just an anxiety. now, though, it was pretty clear you didn't want to be there and the man wouldn't get a hint. no one else seem to notice your discomfort to come save you, but it's not really her deal. your fault for having no spine to tell the guy to fuck off.

her calm evening seems to come to an end when she notices the man slides his palm up your shin. sevika sighs and stands up begrudgingly. damn her sense of justice.

"sevika, where'er you going?" her friend calls out, making her turn to reply.

she has no time to do so though, because a heavy thump breaks bar's chill atmosphere. sevika's head whips around. and there you are, standing with eyes full off rage above the unwelcome companion.

"are you insane?" the man screams, holding onto his jaw in pain, stumbling to stand up.

"not my problem you don't understand human language!" you raise your voice.

sevika doesn't have much time to think everything through, her legs already on the way to you. she grabs guy's shoulder roughly when he tries to reach for you.

"back off, the woman said no" as he realizes who's speaking to him, he mumbles something bitterly and hurries away, too afraid of silco's second in command.

sevika's attention now on you. "you okay?"

"yeah- yeah, sorry." you shake your hand, something hurts from the punch you gave the man. one of the waitress, your friend possibly, runs up to both of you, fussing over, suggesting to use the stuff room to check over yourself.

"you good. maybe gonna bruise a little." sevika gives her verdict and lets go off your hand. "he's one of the finn's, those guys have metal all over. probably had his teeth or jaw done."

"thanks again." you say, wiggling your fingers. "i'm sorry to cause a scene."

sevika can only huff out. you just got harassed and that's your response?

"didn't know you actually had it in you." she says instead. "that was a nice hit."

"ah- my older sister taught me." you laugh embarrassed.

sevika walks you home that day, to "make sure you won't get into another trouble" as she says to you and herself. you share stories on the way, mostly about your siblings. "we use to quarrel a lot and i was the youngest so i always was losing fights, until my sis showed me some moves." it makes sevika laugh genuinely, imagine you as a child arguing with your brothers and sisters.

and that's where it starts for her. she can't stop thinking about you. sevika doesn't understand how a woman like you can hold so much gentleness and still have that edge underneath. her memories wander to that fire in your eyes.

weeks pass and she finds herself dropping by more and more, waiting to spend some time with you. it hits her one day, when she comes into the bar only for one of the employees to immediately inform her you don't work today, that she might have a problem. (it's called a crush, but she's too stubborn to call it that.)

a month goes by and she does nothing with it. either too busy to think about her feelings or spending her days in doubt. there's not a chance you with your bossa nova voice, denim overalls and sweet smiles would choose such a harsh and rough around the edges woman.

it all comes to an end one day. catching sevika alone, when her friends went out for a smoke (and, yes, she stopped since you mentioned you don't like smokers much).

she sits on the sofa, playing with an ice cube in her glass, when a shadow covers her and she raises her eyes, you standing over her, looming, your fist diggs into the hip, like you're some angry kids cartoon character.

"so? how long do i have to wait before you invite me on a date?"

sevika chokes on her drink a little, surprised. there's that fire again, brows creased, displeased, maybe even angry. sevika takes a moment to catch her breath, more because of the way you look and not her drink.

"yes... i-" she literally doesn't know how to react and stumbles over her words. she tries to compose herself. "i was actually about to-"

"good then." you don't let her finish, looking more like you're about to lecture her than be happy that something in your relationship moved. "cause girls started to make fun of me for running around you. hope you're free tomorrow evening."

sevika nods but you don't see it, already off to the little stage, to play the next songs.

a chain of laughter rings out, the waitresses run off as sevika turns to glare their way.

#sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #sevika #arcane

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mejaemin · 27 days ago

Text

i ♡ my girlfriend - lee donghyuck

wc: 1k

summary: a continuation of one of my caramel!haechan hcs, where you take care of him while he’s drunk

warnings: not proofread, alcohol, being drunk, nothing else!

an: somehow this came out to be not as fluffy as i wanted, like the request asked, but is still longer than intended??? im a wittle confuzzled guys.. anyways enjoy my first set of fake texts !!! i hope i did a good job (ignore the timestamps, this is set past 11pm in my mind)

(caramel!hyuck masterlist here! ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

your phone begins ringing, and you pick up mark’s incoming phone call. “hello? mark, you didn’t have to call, i’m already-” you’re interrupted when his camera turns on, revealing your boyfriend instead of the one you were just speaking to.

“hiiiiii girlfriend! i miss you soooo much, mama… please come get me, there’s scary women looking at me and i want to be with you now..” his face takes up the entirety of the screen, purple lights casting shadows over his tanned skin and pouted lips. you can see a glimpse of his ‘i heart my girlfriend’ shirt at the edge of the screen, and it makes you smile softly.

“umm, okay, baby, i’m on my way. i’ll save you.” it takes everything in you to not go over the speed limit once you get in your car, a surge of jealousy flowing through your brain, but if his reaction was anything to go by, you don’t have much to worry about.

“you’re already on your way? really?! i love you girlfriend, please hurry! but not too much because i can’t have you crashing and dying..” he trails off, looking up at the boy who’s shoulder he was resting on and whispering, ‘markie, look, my girlfriend’s on the phone with me.’ you can’t hear much but you’re sure he’s had enough of donghyuck, so you call his attention once again.

“okay, hyuckie, i’m sure mark wants his phone back, so why don’t you hang up the phone, okay? i’m almost there.” at this, his face lights up, and he starts rambling about his excitement before the phone hangs up abruptly.

with a heavy sigh you park your car outside the bar and make your way in. you’re sure you stand out very well, messy hair and sanrio pajamas being a stark contrast between the put together outfits of other patrons.

making your way through the crowd towards the seating areas, you see your boyfriend sitting in the booth with his friends. funnily enough, mark sees you first, eager to get rid of the clingy, annoying boy.

he shoots up, leaving hyuck’s head to slip off his shoulder and hit the back of his seat. once he’s awaken, then he immediately gets up as well. mark helps him up through his stumbling, guiding him to your arms.

“hey,” he sighs. “he’s clearly very…” instead of finishing the sentence, he just gestures to him. throughout the whole time mark was speaking, hyuck was leaning into your shoulder mumbling things you couldn’t even understand.

“yeah, i can tell.. anyways i’m sorry you had to deal with him..” you smile awkwardly, having to pry your boyfriend off your body to make your way to your car.

“yeah, it’s chill. get home safely, okay?” he nods, waving to you before turning back to the table.

typically it would be a struggle to haul a drunk man to your car, but donghyuck is so clingy that all you had to do was walk by yourself and have him follow. when you put him in the passenger seat he wastes no time in kissing you while his seatbelt gets put on.

“thanks for getting me, mama. i was really so scared just now. ugh, being perceived by other women is just sooooo nasty!” he drones on dramatically, sighing heavily as he sinks back into the seat.

you make your way around the car, getting in the driver’s seat and starting the car. “oh yeah? aren’t you lucky i saved you then, hm?” you turn to him once again, pinching his cheek lightly before starting the drive back home.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

with all the strength you can muster, you finally haul hyuck up to your front door, quickly unlocking it and letting him in.

“ooh yay! we’re in mama’s house..” he drones on, stepping into the house and happily observing the decor.

“yup! now, hyuckie, do you wanna shower or just get undressed.” you turn to face him, pressing your hands to his pink cheeks.

“get undressed? hmm, i like the sound of that…” he’s smirking, his eyes in the shape of crescents.

you roll your eyes, turning around to guide him into your bedroom. it would be stupid to even respond to him, so you choose to instead ignore him. once he’s in you sit him down on the bed, instructing him to remove his clothes while you get him water.

when you come back in your room, hyuck has already met you at the doorway, stripped down to his boxers. he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he walks you back to the bed. before he can drag you (without knowing his own strength) onto the bed, you set his glass and painkillers on the nightstand. finally, you fall forward onto his chest, picking your head up to kiss his birthmarks.

“you seriously took so long just now. does it really take that long to get water? i literally could’ve grown old and died in that time.” he pouts, wrapping both his arms and legs around you.

“oh i know, hyuckie, i’m so evil, but i had to get the stuff to take care of you. don’t you want to be taken care of?” you ask, twirling a piece of his curly hair between your fingers.

“hm… i guess that is really nice..” he trails off.

“okay, then let’s get up and clean you up, okay?” you offer, pushing yourself off of him and leading him to the bathroom.

you already did your own routine prior to picking hyuck up, so you really just stood there for emotional support while he (clumsily and half-assed) washed his face and brushed his teeth. you already decided that a shower would not be best right now, so after he finished up you went straight to bed.

flipping up the fluffy pink covers, you lay down first before inviting hyuck into your arms. he slips under as well, but before he fully lays down he grabs one of your many plushies and brings it with him. trapping it in between your bodies, he gets comfortable and finally is able to rest, happy in your arms. unfortunately for you, you won’t be having much rest for the next few days due to hyuck’s tendency to milk your care until it’s dry.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

#mejaemin #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck x reader #lee haechan #lee haechan x reader #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #— caramel ʕ ᵔⰙᵔ⠕ʔ #— reqs ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

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love-toxin · 1 year ago

Note

Ellie i want astarion to fuck my mouth

im SO sorry queen i had to make the meow meow a lil emotionally vulnerable while im at it pls forgive me 🐸

(cws: gn!reader, vampire fuckery, bg3 spoilers, oral (m! receiving), teasing, possibly ooc astarion bc im only starting act 2 LOL, jealousy sex, deepthroating, a touch of feral/rough sex, facefucking, astarion is so in love it makes him look stupid <3)

word count: 3.9k

Once again, an evening spent with your mind somewhere else is interrupted by something you weren't expecting. The fire gleams from the pit and washes warmth across your face, a glow cast over your skin as you sit with your fingers white-knuckling a cold mug. Your companions are off on their own save for Scratch, who despite being a bit furrier than the tavern's normal patrons sleeps quietly at your feet. It barely took any convincing to let him in considering the rather stellar reputation you've earned yourselves–not to mention you're sharing a spot around the hearth with a couple frizzy-haired barbarians and a Tabaxi bard strumming out a tune on her lute. All seems peaceful, the noise just relaxed enough that you can let your mind wander about all manner of things. Ponder all sorts of worries you have yet to deal with on your adventure.

But it seems you're destined for an interruption. The back of your neck prickles from nowhere, a chill slithering coldly down your spine…from the corner of your eye you spot him, his pale hand vanishing behind a door on the second floor of the inn.

He's watching you. That's your cue, his methods of distraction always seeming so trivial and out of the way–he could always just come over and tap you on the shoulder. But Astarion likes the chase and isn't much of a fan of sincerity, so it's only natural for you to pass your half-empty mug off to one of the barbarians, get a bumbled shout of gratitude and a slap on the back, and slip away from the night's bustle of the tavern to thump your way up the winding stairs. All four of the rooms have been rented out by you and your party but one will sit empty tonight–aside from your gear, you're fairly certain your room will be unoccupied as you find other sleeping arrangements.

Tap tap. Just in case there's danger looming too close to comfort, you and your partner have a particular signal. Just as your knuckles come away from the door the tapping echoes back, tap tap, and you smother a grin as your fist closes around the knob for you to step inside.

The oak door thuds behind you at once and clicks softly as the latch falls in place. Nothing but the ire of a god or a drunken ogre could interrupt you now….but there's not much to interrupt if there's only one of you here, and as your eyes sweep the simple room you don't spot hide nor hair of your darling creature of the night. You've got a teasing remark on the tip of your tongue, ready to let loose-

"Don't. Move."

-But before you can even take a breath, there's a blade's edge digging into your throat and a cold, lean body pressed up against your backside. Effectively caught between a rock and a hard place. Prey. Astarion's whispered commands, however deep and punctuated they are, only send shivers of delight through you rather than true fear–and you find yourself struck with a dumb grin, not at all immune to the soft touch of his lips as they graze your tender neck from behind. He's got his arm pulled so snug around your waist it feels more like the grasp of a lover than a robbery, but that's because it is.

"Light on valuables, huh?" You tease over your shoulder, your hands braced against his arm as it holds the knife so dangerously close to your pulse point.

"You aren't. Show me what you've got, or I'll look myself." He murmurs back, breath cool as it puffs shallowly against your skin. It's somehow sweet when he tries to be so hard-to-get with you–maybe, you wonder, he doesn't yet realize how attached you are to him despite all you've been through already. Enough that you don't feel the bite of harsh, real danger in your peripheral, which sooner leads him to loosen his grip and push you forward with a palm on the base of your spine–all while tugging the knife out of the way, of course. If you asked him, he'd say it's because it would be a waste to spill such divine blood all over the ground.

As you turn yourself around to face him, you come eye-to-eye with the glaring tip of the knife yet again. Astarion is half-dressed, a bit disheveled, looking as though he's on the cusp of needing a drink again. Those carmine-coloured eyes echo some deep, violent desperation, one that shakes his voice as he commands you with total sincerity to strip.

"Will you join me?" You ask, your voice tinged with adoring hope. It irritates him, hope. Usually, at least. Usually it doesn't rub him as wrong when you're the one with hope in your heart, but evidently tonight is different if his scoff is anything to go by.

"That depends." His gaze flits away as he worries his lower lip between his teeth, not as careful about nicking it with his fangs as he usually is. Something surely must be wrong if he's acting so strange, especially since nothing has happened lately that's seemed to upset him…at least not that he's told you. It could be something else entirely, or something you don't have any idea about. Once he meets your eyes again, the hand he's gripping the dagger in lowers slowly. It was just a prop, after all–never a real threat. "...So long as you don't forget who you pledged your love to. Me. I won't stand for all this…this nonsense I've seen of late."

You cock your head in reply with a raised brow, questioning and curious of what on earth he could be referring to. Astarion rolls his eyes but it's most assuredly a gesture to mask how weak your sincerity makes him, your honesty painfully boring but, at the same time, endlessly endearing. With a sigh he tosses the knife aside in an arc, the handle flipping over blade for it to fall perfectly on the tip, sunk half an inch into the table by the bed. He's got his attention locked on it for long enough that the shuffling of fabric is what turns his head back towards you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips on instinct as he watches your clothing slip off your positively tantalizing figure.

"We're gonna have to pay for that, you know." Whatever you're saying goes right through both ears, the way your giggles shake your shoulders being all that he can focus on right now. He can barely tear his eyes away once you've wiggled out of your bottoms, and you're swift to remind him of his stare when you cheekily throw the travel-worn trousers in his direction. But all he does is grab a handful of them and press them to his face, not soaking in the scent as much as the undeniable warmth from just coming off your legs. They're only an introduction, however. They're tossed right back at you without pause, and fall to the floor in a heap that Astarion carelessly steps over to get to you. To get closer. He can never really get close enough, ever.

Even an inch away from you, though, your love does nothing to close that last shred of distance between you. Where he was eager to touch you just a few minutes ago, now he keeps his hands down like he's nervous about grazing you with just his fingertips. But despite that you can clearly see how he keeps eyeing your lips, so if he won't meet you the rest of the way, you simply have to do it for him. A quick peck on the chin is too much yet not enough–he endures a noticeable quiver through his body that he tries to stifle, but he can't resist raising a hand to your neck and tilting your head higher, just enough that you won't miss this time when he plants his mouth on yours. Deeper this time, much deeper, with his tongue making an appearance to slither from a cold embrace to your unbearably hot one.

You'd love nothing more than to take it further right here, right now, but there's something stopping Astarion that you'd like to get to the bottom of. Just as he's getting a little lost in your kiss, his eyes shut and fangs scraping at your delicate tongue as it moves with his, you break it off with a warm hand pressed to his chest and bring him back to your unspoken question.

"Azzy, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that," He snaps back suddenly, brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. He doesn't move away though–clearly you're a bit too enticing for him to rethink the embrace he has you in, nor the fact that you're bare and warm for nobody else but him. "So childish. Or did you simply forget my name already?"

"I could never forget you. Now tell me what's wrong, Az. You're acting weird."

This time, he just shoots you a glare that could kill you on the spot. It's damning, his fury terrifying enough written so plainly on his face….but it also stirs up something within you that won't be sated by words alone.

"Last time, darling. I'm warning you. And it's nothing. Just…" A shake of his head sends his perfect curls flying about, each one falling back into place more perfectly than he's coming across right now. "...I wish you had been around when I was alive. That's all."

"What do you mean?"

"The others are all…alive. Breathing. Warm. Some of them look at you like–like you aren't with me. Like they could sweep you off your feet without even a thought." He says it with so much defeat in his tone, so gently with so soft an edge that you almost can't hear it with the muffled sounds of the tavern under your feet. It's rare to hear him sound so…sad. It's a bit odd to think, but he often comes off younger than he is when he speaks this way. "Maybe, if…if I was with you, then…" He huffs, flinching away from your hand as it grazes his cheek. Yet, within a moment, he's turning back and nuzzling his face into your palm like he can't get enough, his hand coming up to brace your delicate wrist as if he's afraid you really will pull away from him. "...If I was with you, maybe I would never be what I am now."

"But I like who you are now." You insist, the smile slowly returning as it creases the edges of your lips. "I love you, Astarion. I mean it, I always will. Forever."

"Forever is a very long time, my sweet." You shoot him that naive look like you don't really get the gravity of what you're saying. You don't, on second thought–you haven't suffered through two immortal centuries like he has. "...Fine. You love me? Prove it, then."

His tone grows dark, as does the once-vibrant colour in his eyes. Something swirls about behind them like a shadow in the water of a blood-red lake.

"On your knees."

Huh?

"I said," The air grows hot around you despite the chill of his body on yours, a purr rising in the back of his throat as he pushes very gently on your shoulder. "Get on your knees."

And with his command hanging in the air, you follow so obediently you give him a pleasing shiver down the length of his spine and back. You sink down to the floor in one long, fluid motion, barely breaking eye contact as you brace yourself against his pale thighs. They don't even need your touch to come undressed, his pants falling with his thumbs hooked into the waist and tugged down just as easily as you did. He wastes no time in stepping out of them and kicking them away, but he doesn't really have the option to when you're already mesmerized by the image of what lies beneath–once the tip of his flushed, heavy cock sprung free of catching on his belt, you had your gaze glued to it like it's the first time you've ever laid eyes on him.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He smirks, all pompous and smug with no idea of the test of self-control he's about to face. Because although you may be the one beneath him, where you belong in this scenario, the haze over your eyes as you stare openly should be enough of a tell that your mouth is already watering. Astarion's gentle humming hits your ears as he takes himself in hand, tugging out a few slow strokes for your entertainment before he settles on holding it by the base, and guides it down towards your lips. He's so pale everywhere else that the ruddiness of the rubbery head is almost uncanny, but the pale pink blush that spreads throughout gives his flesh such a delicate look that you can't help but dive right in.

One slow, tentative lick up the tip, and Astarion has it written all over his face–he isn't going to be finished until you've got some bruises, that's for sure. You try another and he finally gets a grip on your head, fingers woven through your hair to keep you steady and to calm his trembling hands. Those soft kitten licks are always his weakness, each one a bit braver and deeper but peppered with hot little kisses in between. You press them all down the shaft and back, smearing the stiff flesh with spit and giving him a tongue bath that feels like it never ends–not that he wants it to, though. Those shaky breaths overhead are a telltale sign otherwise.

"More," He purrs, half-needy and half-demanding in the same breath. You kiss over his knuckles that still grip the base of his shaft, and can't help but smile up at him as he quietly taps the head against your lips, tap tap. Twice he knocks and begs silently for entry, and soon he releases a sigh from the depths of his belly as you swallow him down and welcome him in. "Show me what I deserve."

Astarion certainly doesn't need to tell you twice, he barely needs to tell you once. As soon as he's settled snugly where he belongs, he lets go of the grasp he had and watches in awe as you swallow. Every inch he thinks you can't take more of disappears inside your mouth, slid further and further until he starts to curve into the bend of your throat and loses the last vestiges of his willpower. All his strength saps into you like his teeth on your flesh–where he stole your power in your blood, you take it back just as easily with a flick of your tongue and the incessant squeeze of your throat.

"Getting impatient? Already? We've only just begun, love." You can feel the heat of his eyes shift as they turn further downward, no clothing able to serve as a boundary to hide the needy grind of your thighs together as you kneel. The reaction of your body to his rather lewd commentary doesn't help you either, and in one sweep of his gaze over your exposed figure he can see everything you're thinking like it's written across your skin in ink. "Don't stop rubbing those legs together. Show me just how badly you want me, darling."

It might be more embarrassing if you didn't know Astarion had seen it all already, and that he would most definitely be seeing much more of everything below in the future. The fact that you trust him with those fangs around all your sensitive areas is touching…and it also means he trusts you enough to be a little rougher when you're returning the favour. You've degraded yourself to a humiliating extent by being with him, by getting down on your knees for him no less, and with him wrapped so tight and cozy in your throat he's got a look like he's ready to make himself at home.

With a moan slipped in between the pauses, your beloved curls his thumbs down behind the shell of each ear, his palms laid flat against your temples so he won't let go so easily. The drawing back is easy, his cock parting less and less of the space inside until he's barely brought it back to the tip–but just as you're getting in a taste of his salty sweat and bitterly rich arousal as it sits heavy on your tongue, Astarion flashes you a wink and braces your face for impact as he thrusts back in. Your heat coddles every inch of him and shakes loose a string of raspy moans from his chest, while the scrape of your nails against his thighs and your soft, squirming tongue pressed flat against his girth only has him burning hotter. The first time is a tight fit for sure, but as he enters into a steady rhythm of pulling out and gliding past your sweet, stretched lips, each buck of his hips grows smoother and it gets easier with time. Sooner than either of you expected, you barely have to focus at all–you can sit nicely and let your attention wander up to his lusty gaze, idly suckling at whatever he manages to stuff inside for as long as he's able to keep it there.

"I know it's on your mind already, but tell me I'm beautiful, my sweet." Astarion croons like a cat to a mouse, speaking so sweetly like he isn't still ravaging the most tender areas of your throat, and fucking away any possibility of you speaking properly for the next little while. And he shows no signs of stopping, your squeaky, muffled moans as he grinds the heft of his cock against your tongue too delicious for him to think about it. But eventually he does, managing somehow to pry himself off of your beautiful, fucked-out, spit-slicked face to give you a chance. "Go on. Speak."

"Please," You croak, head hazy and your face dark with warmth. "You're so beautiful, Astarion, please. I love you."

"Will you love me forever?" You nod, the answer barely a hair's breadth from your swollen lips.

"For eternity."

Astarion takes a moment, a pause that lasts a lifetime or more, but the genuine joy that starts to spread across his smile could keep you alive for a century of centuries. It's not one you see often or ever see, but that makes it just as precious as any gold or treasure you might come across in your lifetime.

"...Eternity it is then, darling." One of those cold hands moves to stroke your hair, his touch fleeting yet his grip tight with desire as you lean in for a kiss–not on his lips, but rather the tip of his dick, of which is absolutely soaked by your influence…and of his readiness for the end, as you can see by the veins pulsing up the sides and the whole length twitching with anticipation. You can feel those little spasms through your tongue as it meets his slit, Astarion's chest heaving and fangs glinting as he gives in to the urges to nestle himself back inside. As much as he wants a proper kiss, he'll get one as soon as those frantic hips slow completely instead of picking up speed as he meets your delectable heat again. He could be using you for his pleasure alone for another two hundred years, and in your endless desire to please him you're not sure you'd oppose it–you know for a fact that once the centuries had passed, Astarion would be spending twice as long with his head down between your legs.

"One day, I'll tear that wretch of a vampire's heart out through his stomach," Astarion growls out of nowhere, suddenly sounding completely feral in the span of a moment. The ferocity with which he's fighting the tightness of your throat increases too, thought not much more than he already was–if you touched your neck you would feel the bulge of him sunk so deep he can see it, the rise and fall of that soft flesh tightening the knot in the pit of his belly. "-And we won't ever spend a day apart. I swear."

All you can do is ride with the pace he's offering, your throat cinching tight like a coinpurse the more he rams it with the full strength of his hips, nails digging into your scalp as he batters you rabidly without ever losing his grip. Soon, his query of "Ready, darling?" barely meets your ears, your attempt at not choking on each thrust and somehow sucking in a breath here and there too important for your survival.

And in a matter of moments, you're granted reprieve while also left hollow and empty at the same time, Astarion's fist yanking you back by the hair as he sucks in a huge, deep breath into his lungs. The twist of his other hand stroking himself down to the last few beats comes close to your face, your soft gasps for air the perfect background for your name to trickle out of Astarion's mouth–and with such a deep moan it rattles you through your blood down to your bones, you kneel and wait eagerly as your partner lets everything go for you. His balls tighten and squeeze as the pressure of that knot inside him snaps, and he watches with a devoted gleam in his eyes as you wear every rope of pearly cum he milks out for you in that orgasm that shakes him to the core.

"Look at that," He murmurs, voice nearly as wrecked and raspy as yours will be by tomorrow. "Painted like a canvas fit for the gods. Gorgeous."

If he could, he would save this image of you in a frame forever; your sweet, smiling face marred with the essence of him, your hair pulled back by his sweaty fingers but your eyes filled with so much love. Love, genuine and sincere, your giggles loopy and tired as you come down from the high, yet without any post-sex remorse that he fears each and every time you climb into his bed with him. It stays the same when he cleans you off and persists even once you kiss him, knees so wobbly you fall back into the sheets with the slightest push. You won't ever let him free, kiss after kiss pressed to his cold mouth as he climbs over you. Your ankles hook over his waist before he knows it, your smile desperate to be wiped off your face again once he chases that heat for the second, third, fourth, fifth, tenth time, until the sun rises and you're reminded of the downsides of entertaining a lover who never needs rest.

You might tell him you love him again when morning comes, despite the exhaustion tugging down your eyelids and the sweat pouring down your aching back. You probably will, knowing how naive and sincere you tend to be even when you shouldn't. Even so, this time…Astarion might not be able to pretend he doesn't feel exactly the same way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #ellie writes #anons #3k

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 1 year ago

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I decided to write a little something that was a little...self indulgent~

Should you want more of my own personal desires in your writing, just request the House Special in your message~

Title: Mostro’s New Toy

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, m!Reader

Contains: dark themes(dubcon, kidnapping), contractual agreement, bondage, blindfolds, mouth covering/gag, free use kink

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

It had been a week since your end of the bargain was fulfilled. Though you had no magic for payment, Azul had stated he would figure something out and not to worry about it, so after meeting your end of the deal, you were starting to get fidgety when a week had passed and yet nothing had happened yet.

You were rushing to your next class, cursing yourself for being late because of Grim’s antics and for looking away from him for a moment. You started to cut across the courtyard when an arm grabbed you from the bushes. You were about to scream for help when a white gloved hand silenced you. More specifically, it was the duct tape under the hand that kept you quiet, allowing your attacker to hold you firmly in two arms.

“Eaaasy, Shrimpy. No need to get loud~”

The nickname and voice was more than enough to at least solve the question of who was doing this. You muffled out his name, any struggling soon subsiding knowing you weren’t in any actual danger.

Though you couldn’t see, Floyd was giving a dopey grin. “Just here collecting some debt. Azul’s order’s. Time to pay up~”

Retrieving a bottle from his pocket, he shattered it against the ground, pieces flying as smoke surrounded you two, teleporting you back to Octavinelle.

———

Floyd stood with you still in his arms, the two of you now present in front of the Mostro’s manager, Azul in his VIP room. Jade stood beside him, as though ready to act if necessary.

“Terribly sorry for the scare,” Azul started, speaking from behind interlocked fingers, “but you see I’ve figured out the payment I desire from you.”

You tried to speak, but the tape remained firmly in place, only muffling your speech. Azul merely carried on, as if you weren’t trying to object.

“Oh no need to worry about it! Truly, this is the best thing you could give! Jade? If you’d please.”

“Yes, sir.” Jade began to step over to Floyd, the two of them giving the other a look that seemed to be one that only twins could understand. He opened his jacket, retrieving a bundle of deep green rope that was concealed in an inner pocket. Floyd spun you around, holding onto your shoulders and looking down at you with a threatening gaze and speaking in a serious, menacing tone.

“I’d stay still if I were you, unless you want to be squeezed.” It was that look that screamed “try it”. If you moved, be it trying to run off or even just a muscle, you knew it wouldn’t end well. Jade then grabbed your arms, pressing your wrists together and wrapping the surprisingly soft rope around them. He tied them off in a way that didn’t hurt but kept your wrists firmly together, effectively now leaving you at the mercy of the tweels before you.

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now, but I’ll tell you anyway, out of the kindness of my heart.” As Azul spoke, a strip of cloth covered your eyes. You were now blind, mute, and unable to fend for yourself in anyway. “I’ve decided your body will be perfect payment. I’ll have you situated in a way where patrons can come in, and use you the way they see fit. The blindfold is for confidentiality, of course, and the tape? Well that’s just for show. If they want to take it off they can~”

You’d be lying if you tried to object. The idea sent a heat straight to your groin, and you could feel a pressure at the zipper of your jeans as you hummed softly.

The brothers were already working on you, leading you into a new spot before pushing you down to your knees. The positioned you like a doll, spreading your legs open before unbuttoning your pants to reveal a partially hard, boxer covered phallus.

“Heeeeeyyy~ Little Shrimpy here is already enjoying himself~ You get off to the idea of this~?”

Hearing it out loud, especially from Floyd, only embarrassed you, and you shook your head to deny it.

“Such a thing is hard to deny when the evidence is right there, (y/n).” Jade’s voice sounded like velvet, smooth and calm. “It’s clear you’re quite aroused by this. There is no shame in admitting it.”

You shook your head with a small “mm-mm”, denying it, but deep down, you knew that lie wouldn’t last long, as Jade was right.

“Now boys,” Azul’s footsteps thudded against your ears as you heard him walk over. “I think we should find out if our new attraction is ready for the guests. What do you think?”

“Oh I get first dibs on Shrimpy?! I wanna test him out!” Floyd sounded all too excited by the idea, and you were already wondering what someone like him would do.

“Mmmm!” You let out an uncontrollable whine, but it went ignored.

“Oh please, Floyd. You’ll ruin our new toy before he even has a chance.” A small laugh laced Jade’s voice. “What if we tested him out together?”

“Wonderful idea!” Azul was more than willing to allow such a thing, his footsteps starting to soften as he stepped to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to break our new plaything before I get back.”

“Yes, sir./Yeah, boss!”

The door opened and closed, and you were now alone with the brothers. Thought you couldn’t see them, you could feel their predatory gazes on you before their hands made first contact.

This…will be exciting…~ ❤️

#kaisers house of desires #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland Floyd #twisted wonderland Jade #twisted wonderland Azul #floyd leech #twst floyd #jade leech #twst jade #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #x male reader #x male smut #x male y/n #x reader #twst smut

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chevroletdean · 6 days ago

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Ambitious — Chapter 1: Hunter in the Rye

SUMMARY: It seems like the Winchesters have found themselves a rival. A mysterious huntress is one step ahead of them, whatever case they’re working on. While she’s a thorn in his side, who is Dean to say no to a little challenge?

SHIP: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character GENRE: Fluff, smut TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Rivals to lovers, miscommunication (or rather: Dean and OFC being stubborn asses), canon level violence, competitive hunting, a bit of German folklore, they're working on a case with victims and children being kidnapped, fluff, smut (MDNI!), fingering, protected p in v, Switch!Dean, not beta read WORD COUNT: 10.5k (sorry) A/N: Spice was not planned, originally, nor was such a hefty word count. But, as predicted, my love for writing about OCs took over and thus I present to you a lengthy entry for the @jacklesversebingo challenge. PROMPT: Work Adversaries CREDIT & LINKS: header by myself ─〃★ gun divider ─〃★ flower divider ─〃★ jacklesversebingo 2024 masterlist ─〃★ series masterlist ─〃★ ao3

▶️PLAYLIST

When it came to hunting, Dean was always ambitious.

With the exception of using every excuse to hit the local bars, flirt with the patrons, and later make it every motel guest’s problem in close proximity to his room.

Still, once he actually was locked in on a hunt, he wanted to get it done right.

“I get that this is a strange case,” the coroner muttered, both in obvious resignation from the second night-owl shift in a row and in sheer surprise. Her white coat looked worn and for a moment, the hunters were left to wonder if she even had the chance to change out of it in the last twenty-four hours. “But is a third examination really necessary?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. They were certainly used to the whole ‘I already spoke with the officers’ type of deal when it came to interrogations and such. However, this…

“I’m sorry,” Dean rasped, forcing an awkward, tight smile. “Did you say third?”

Suspicion flashed across the woman’s eyes, the brows of which were now knitted together in deep thought.

“Could I see some ID again, please?”

Begrudgingly, Sam and Dean handed over their FBI badges, which the coroner inspected a little too closely for their liking. Bobby has spent a good amount of time on getting them perfectly right though. Hence the brothers giving a confident nod as she handed them back, seemingly satisfied.

“Your colleague came in last morning, mere hours after I handed in the report,” white-coat shrugged. A quick glance towards her name plate identified her as Nora Banks. “I showed her the body, and after lunch break some municipal officers came in.”

Not again.

Dean had to refrain from rolling his eyes, despite his clear annoyance with a certain colleague of his. Oh, she was a colleague alright. Not a fellow FBI agent, but definitely a fellow hunter. A damn thorn in his side was what she was to him.

“We’re just following protocol, Miss Banks,” Sam chimed in. “We don’t want to miss any details.”

“That FBI agent went through just about every detail, if you ask me,” Miss Banks sighed, the irritation in her furrowed brows obvious. “But, sure, be my guest.”

Despite her dismay of having to go through the procedure not only twice, but thrice, Nora guided the two men down the hallway. Morgues always gave Dean the creeps and his soured mood did not help his tension. He was still dwelling on the fact that that little beast had bested him yet again.

He’s lost count of how many times that girl must’ve interrupted his leads. Lately it was just working case after case, chasing monsters and inevitably running into traces of her. The stench of her methods were all over this case.

Nora Banks mentioned some of the strange questions the agent had asked her yesterday. Key-words like ‘sulfur’, ‘cold spots’, and ‘increase in local animal attacks’ confirmed Dean’s suspicions that it must’ve been a hunter.

And he only knew one person that tended to appear at the scene of the crime — literally — before they even had a chance.

Although, knowing was putting it very generously.

Despite her being very much of an annoying obstacle when it came to jobs, neither Sam nor Dean had actually ever met her in person before. All they knew was that she was an ambitious, thorough hunter, and working faster than lightning, apparently.

As the brothers left the station, Sam sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Just from that Dean could tell he wasn’t going to like what he’d say next.

“Looks like this case is already taken care of,” he shrugged, which earned him a glare from Dean.

“Don’t,” Dean interrupted him midsentence, talking over his brother’s meek attempt of smoothing over the older Winchester’s frustration. “Don’t even say it.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned back. “What’s the point?”

As if to question Sam’s seriousness, Dean scoffed at Sam. “The point is,” he huffed, “that this is our case, I didn’t drive eight hours for nothing.”

The older Winchester was as stubborn as ever, but this time around, his persistence was of childish nature. It wasn’t even about the case, it was just about this dumb competition Dean had set his mind to. A competition that was, noteworthily, one-sided — given that whoever this mysterious huntress was probably didn’t even know about the Winchesters.

“Since when are you so eager to work, anyway?,” Sam questioned, but the only reply he was met with was a harsh slam of the Impala’s door. Dean slid into the driver’s seat, clearly not taking no for an answer. He really was dead-set on solving this case first.

It was personal at this point. To him, at least.

Back at the motel, he even double-checked the newspaper articles and went through a list of witnesses to interrogate. Sam genuinely couldn’t recall the last time his brother had been so adamant about solving a case.

While Sam was trying to get ahold of Bobby over the phone, Dean was in the middle of looking up what could’ve caused the strange scarring on the victim’s body. The arms were covered in vein-like marks, like tree-branches raking over every inch of skin. The coroner had attributed the cause of death to be electrocution.

But something about it just felt off — How could a guy just drop dead in the middle of a rye field as if struck by lightning without any signs of storms nearby? That paired with children disappearing and strange sightings of what locals described as a cryptid wasn’t adding up either.

There was a reason the coroner had to answer inquires about animal attacks and such. Apparently, people have seen what they described as a black dog.

Originally, Sam and Dean thought about hellhounds gone loose, but there was no explanation for why they were visible to the general public, and not just doomed souls. A werewolf did not align with the moon cycle, for one, and while they were wolves, they appeared mostly in human-form. Thus, they scratched that off the list of possibilities as well.

“A Feldgeist, is what you’re dealing with,” Bobby said over the phone. “Or, what Phoebe is dealing with, anyway. Why are you two on this case, again?”

Dean’s ears perked up at the unfamiliar name.

“Phoebe?,” he echoed, staring the phone down as if Bobby could see him.

“A Feldgeist?,” Sam echoed simultaneously.

Clearly the brothers had different priorities when it came to solving this case. Sam was beginning to worry that Dean was hunting his new rival more so than being out for the monster itself.

“According to German folklore, they’re essentially somewhere between demonic and spirits. Some humanoid, some shaped like animals,” Bobby went on to explain. “It’s sort of a fairy tale to keep kids from messing around on farms. Except this one’s real — a Roggenwolf. Stalks in fields, feeds on children, causes lightning and rain to mess with the harvest.”

That would explain the strange dog-sightings, the missing children, as well as the electrocution.

“You’re well-informed on the details, Bobby,” Sam remarked.

“Phoebe asked me to do some fact-checking, she called me about this case just yesterday,” Bobby replied.

Again, Dean fidgeted, before finally snatching the phone from Sam’s hands. “Who is this Phoebe?”

“Does it say ‘Winchester’s personal assistant exclusively’ on my forehead? The world of hunters doesn’t revolve only around you idiots,” Bobby snarled, his humbling tone alone giving the Winchesters a good idea of the way he’d scrunch up his nose and tip back that cap of his. “Phoebe Bennett’s a capable hunter, likes to dive in solo. I’d say you boys can move onto the next one and let her handle it.”

“We read up on the case first!,” Dean protested, earning himself a slight smack to his shoulder from Sam and his brother taking away the phone once more.

“Clearly ya didn’t,” was the last matter-of-factly stated thing Dean heard on the other line.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam muttered hastily. “We’ll get back to you.”

With that the call ended and Dean fell back into his chair, huffing and puffing like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

He sure was acting as if Phoebe had stolen his candy or something. If Sam wasn’t mistaken, he was even pouting. Over a damn case they haven’t even looked into for longer than a couple of days.

“You wanna catch that rye wolf so badly?”

“It’s a matter of principle, Sammy,” Dean grumbled. “This Phoebe Bennett can’t just keep stealing all our leads! Is this what it feels like to have your job replaced by a machine?”

Unable to not roll his eyes at his brother’s theatrics, Sam sighed: “She’s not a machine, she’s a hunter. And from the looks of it, a decent one, too. Let’s just drop it.”

A notification went off on the laptop as Sam finished his sentence. By hacking into the police station’s systems, they were always up to date with new information. Dean skimmed over the pop-up, before he gave Sam a deadpan expression.

“From the looks of it,” he retorted in mocking fashion and turned the laptop around for it to face his brother. “Our decent hunter hasn’t finished the job just yet.”

A child had just been reported missing by a very alarmed mother. According to the testimony, the girl and her older sister had been playing near the fields, when suddenly the younger sibling was dragged away by a shadow-like creature.

That was more than enough reason to pay the family a little visit.

If what Bobby dug up was correct, then their Larry Talbot / demonic were-spirit / ghostwolf from hell — Dean hadn’t decided on a name yet — kept its victims alive somewhere to feed on them. If they wanted a chance at finding them, they had to act fast.

A fifteen minute drive downtown later, Dean parked right next to a glossy red Harley-Davidson. Amongst the family cars and amidst the idyllic picture of your stereotypical picket-fence suburbian area, the vintagey motorcycle stuck out like a sore thumb. More so than the Impala, even.

Adjusting their ties, Sam and Dean walked up the porch and rang the bell.

Mere moments later, a girl opened for them. Since she looked to be around eleven or twelve years old, they immediately figured this must be the eye-witness. That, and the subtle shell-shock look of emptiness in her eyes.

Dean gave a friendly greeting of “Hi there,” and routinely pulled out his badge. “Are your parents home? We have a couple of questions.”

The pre-teen blinked back and forth between the IDs, mumbling out a meek “Mom’s already talking to an FBI agent.”

Bingo, Phoebe*.*

Dean knew that Cruiser outside could not possibly belong to your average soccer-mom.

“Looks like our co-worker got a headstart then,” he hummed, attempting to peek past the doorway into the living room. “Mind if we come in?”

Reluctantly, the kid turned around, calling “Mom!”

A woman, eyes even puffier and more red-rimmed than that of her daughter, approached them. She didn’t seem to question the fact that more FBI wanted to bombard her with questions.

“Agents,” she nodded, voice tired and worn down, after a quick glance at their badges and waved them inside. “I’ll get more cups ready. Lily, be a sweetheart and show them to the living room?”

The girl, Lily, did as she was told, walking into the living room. Sam and Dean followed closely behind, their eyes immediately landing on the person occupying the middle of the couch.

Her red hair was tucked into a loose braid, strands of which stuck out somewhat wildly, but not messily. There was a keen, sharp look to her bright eyes. Her posture was alert, but not hostile, as she eyed the men before her with curiosity.

“Agents,” she nodded. Her voice, Dean noticed right away, was calm and smooth. Everything about the way she carried herself was.

He found it highly irritating.

For someone with the audacity to waltz about and steal cases from other hunters, this woman was too… fuck finding a right word for it, she was just too irritating.

Arrogance didn’t quite capture it. But just by her confident demeanor, Dean judged her as too prideful. To be fair, his opinion of her was rather tainted and biased. He didn’t know anything about her, aside from the vibes of a first impression.

To him, Phoebe Bennett was on her high horse, taking a sip from her cup of coffee like she had every right to be here while they had none. As if it was Sam and Dean were the ones butting in, disturbing her business.

Where Dean downright refused to even greet her back with anything else but a glare, Sam had the manners to acknowledge her with a nod and a brief “Agent” in return.

“Lily, why don’t you check if your mother needs some help?,” he suggested then, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the girl. No further convincing needed to be done. She scurried out of the room, eagerly and silent.

“Never heard of an FBI agent on a Cruiser,” Dean grumbled, to which she chuckled— What was so damn funny about that anyway?

“As if your 67 Chevy is any less flashy,” Phoebe teased back, smug smirk on her lips. She set her cup down on the table and leaned back, all nonchalance and ease, as she watched Dean’s eyes narrow. “What? You’re not exactly sneaky in that thing, following me around in four different states. Are you tailing me or something?”

Tailing her? And to think Bobby scolded him for acting as though he was the center of the world.

Sam cleared his throat and subtly nudged his shoulder against Dean’s. The tension in the room was not only palpable, it was completely uncalled for. Dean needed to snap out of it.

“Guess we’ve been following the same leads,” Sam explained. “Look, we’re after the same thing, maybe we should team up.”

“No.” Dean’s and Phoebe’s voices melted together, his voice accompanied by a loud and offended scoff, hers by a flat and unimpressed tone. While Dean stared at Sam in disbelief as if to ask if he’d gone crazy, Phoebe casually picked at a piece of lint on her sleeve as if bored.

“No offense, but I prefer to work alone,” she hummed for an explanation. “If you want to get a job done right, do it yourself, right? Plus, if I were to work with other hunters, I wouldn’t do it with someone I don’t even know.”

Fair. Blunt, but fair.

“Little Red Riding Hood hunting the Big Bad Wolf?,” Dean huffed mockingly, a crooked grin forming on his lips. “Sounds like a trashy horror movie, if you’re asking me.”

“Good thing I’m not,” Phoebe immediately retorted. Witty smartmouth, noted.

“Apologies for the mess, I didn’t expect so many guests,” came a hushed voice behind them. As the woman emerged from the kitchen, a tray of more coffee cups in her hands, she looked even more stressed than when she greeted the hunters at the door.

It reminded them all what they were trying to do here; save that little girl.

“Oh, please,” she urged. “Sit, gentlemen.”

Phoebe’s eyebrow quirked up in challenging fashion as she stared Dean down. He wanted to refuse anyway, were it not for his brother swiftly taking a seat next to Phoebe. Damn him and his will to be all civil and social.

Begrudgingly, Dean sat down as well, the trio now grouped on the couch with Phoebe in the middle.

“Mrs. Miller,” Phoebe spoke, well-mannered and sweetly. “I’m sorry I have to ask this. Could you go over the details again, for my colleagues? They’ve just been introduced to this case, you know?”

She accentuated her words with some condescending pats on Dean’s knee. The glimmer in her eyes was half mocking, half warning. Clearly she didn’t appreciate other hunters squeezing into her business last minute.

Dean fought the urge to smack her hand away. The unexpected touch nearly made him jolt in his seat and he narrowed his eyes at her, before swallowing his pride and giving Mrs. Miller an apologetic smile.

“Well,” Mrs. Miller sighed in defeat and allowed herself to sink into the armchair across the table. “Lily and Rose were out playing. I told them to stay away from the fields, but…”

Just thinking about it had the woman tear up. Her gaze dropped to her lap and she sniffled briefly.

“There was a gust of wind,” Lily chimed in, her head poking out from the frame of the kitchen door. “It went straight into the field and Rose ran after it. I know we weren’t supposed to go in deep, but she said she saw a puppy and followed it. Something grabbed her.”

Mrs. Miller waved her daughter over. The kid’s approach was hesitant, but once within arm’s reach, she found herself in her mother’s embrace.

“Did you see what grabbed your sister?” Phoebe asked.

Lily hesitated, then shook her head.

“Lily,” Dean tried. “It’s okay, you can tell us. We just want to find what took her.”

“It wasn’t a puppy,” Lily stuttered out, fidgeting with her hands while her mother smoothed over her daughter’s hair reassuringly. “It was like a wolf. A giant, black wolf.”

“And that wolf, it dragged your sister deeper into the fields?,” Sam inquired.

The girl nodded.

“The police said they will be scouting the area,” Mrs. Miller mumbled, tearing up again. “But what if they won’t find her?”

“Then they’ll have federal backup, Ma’am,” Phoebe nodded confidently and got up. “I’ll make sure Rose comes back home safely.”

Big words for someone who didn’t even know where the child was dragged to yet. Dean’s eyebrows quirked up as he shot a glance at Sam. “Can you believe her?,” his expression said.

Mother and daughter guided the trio back to the entrance. Phoebe wasted no time stepping down the porch.

“Whoa, hey,” Dean huffed and scurried over until he was blocking her way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Catching the Big Bad Wolf, as you phrased it,” she responded with a shrug and brushed past him.

“Do you even know how to get rid of it?” Dean asked again, following her every step to her bike. “You’ll just go in there and then what?”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him and simply mounted her bike as if Dean wasn’t even there. She grabbed her helmet and put it on, along with her gloves.

It certainly was not her job to explain these guys how to kill that thing. However, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just run Dean over with her bike and leave either.

“Superstitious Germans in the middle ages went so far as to burn entire fields to get rid of the wolves,” she sighed. “By then, their harvest was mostly ruined anway. Fire usually does the trick, according to the lore.”

“So we’ll just molotov the furball?”

She snorted. “We won’t be doing anything,” she laughed and started her motorcycle’s engine. “If you wanna commit arson so badly, you guys will just have to be faster than me.”

With that, she readjusted her bike’s position and took off, leaving Dean to dart back just in time. He clicked his tongue and bolted towards the Impala.

If she wanted a tournament, she could have one.

“C’mon, Sammy!,” he urged as he slid into the driver’s seat. “We ain’t got all day, hop in.”

Sam blinked at his brother in disbelief. He could already feel another migraine coming in just seeing his brother’s misplaced enthusiasm. This guy was going to stress him out to death one day.

“Move your freakishly long limbs,” Dean groaned.

Sam barely got to close the door behind him when Dean already drove off at alarming speed.

“Hey, speed limit,” Sam argued, but Dean wasn’t even listening. The only thing he was set on was getting to these damn rye fields first. “What even is your plan, set the whole field on fire? We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

Surely, he’d figure it out once he got there. Preferably before Phoebe would.

However, lo and behold, upon arrival, a shiny red bike was already waiting for them.

Dean practically flew out of his seat, throwing the door closed behind him and dashing towards the trunk, from where he retrieved a flamethrower. Sam jumped to his side just in time to shove it back.

“Dude,” he sighed in exasperation, trying to be a voice of reason here.

“Yeah, dude,” Phoebe’s voice chimed in from behind them. “Are you trying to deepfry the missing children with that thing?”

It took Dean everything to not point the damn thing at her. Although, the annoyance in his eyes resembled thrown daggers, or thrown flames in this case. Same difference.

“You guys are persistent, I gotta hand you that,” the redhead sighed while busying herself with grabbing various items and weapons, storing them in her jacket and pockets. “If you wanna be a tick on my ass so bad, suit yourselves. Just don’t get in the way.”

“What about the search operation?,” Sam brought up. “Won’t police be here in a bit?”

“Nothing a phone call couldn’t already settle,” Phoebe shrugged and secured a gun in the back of her belt. “Look sharp, boys, the wolf won’t hunt itself.”

Before Dean could even complain about her ordering them around, she climbed over the fence with ease and disappeared into the fields. The rye almost seemed to swallow her frame. Not wanting to lose track of his rival, Dean hopped over the fence too.

Swallowing his pride, he decided for once to focus on the mission. “So, how do we find this thing?”

“Wind gust should be the wolf moving through the plants, so just follow that.”

“Listen to Red, all confident,” Dean snorted condescendingly. “Have you killed these wolves before?”

Without hesitation, Phoebe gave a firm “Nope.”

“How’re you so sure this’ll work then?”

She rolled her eyes, stopping her steps abruptly. He almost bumped straight into her. “Dean, right?,” she groaned. “You’re even more annoying than Bobby gave you credit for. Please quit yapping and focus on the job, ‘kay?”

Her words left the older Winchester with a gaping jaw and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Annoying, huh? She was one to talk— Besides, should his ego be more deflated by Phoebe’s dismissal or the fact that she and Bobby were apparently gossipping about him?

Against his better judgement, the curious question left his lips through a grumble.

“If I’m the annoying one, what did Bobby say about Sam?” He was mumbling more to himself than anything, but Sam still nudged his elbow into Dean’s side.

Undisturbed, Phoebe continued her path through the tall blades of yellow and shrugged: “When I asked him what Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum were up to following me like lost puppies, he said,” she started, before clearing her throat and lowering her voice to match Bobby’s gruff tone, “Annoying idiot’s called Dean, tall idiot’s called Sam.”

As a snort escaped his brother’s mouth, Dean glared at him as if to scold Sam for indulging Phoebe’s teasing. How could Sam not get a kick out of watching his brother get a taste of his own medicine though? Clearly Dean wasn’t used to being humbled, much less by smart-mouthed hunters.

A deep, guttural noise prompted all three hunters to a halt. The sound was unmistakably that of growling, low but broken. Broken up by rustling, that is. Cold breezes going through various directions rattled through the meadow and bent the rye into awkward angles.

“Did you see that?,” Dean whispered, instinctively reaching for his trusty gun.

“Sure did,” Phoebe hummed, her eyes zeroed in on where a large shadow had just flashed before them. Her finger has already found home curled around the trigger of her gun. “Bobby didn’t say anything about silver killing them, but I’m sure it’ll hurt anyway.”

“How sure exactly?,” Sam brought up, only to be ignored.

The huntress didn’t waste another moment, not even for an answer, hurrying after the creature.

“Hey!” Dean’s efforts of holding her back were just as for naught. “Damnit, she better be real sure.”

“What, are you getting worried about her already?,” Sam grinned.

Rolling his eyes, he retorted a gruff “shut up” as his only concern was the wolf getting a headstart at kicking her ass before he could.

She was an agile thing, he had to give her that. Were it not for the flame-like color of her hair, he would’ve lost her in the tall, pointy grass. As his luck would have it, however, she abruptly stopped yet again, causing him to almost bump straight into her for the umpteenth time. Seriously, was she doing it on purpose to mess with him?

Her hushing came before he could even think about complaining: A hissed “shh!” accompanied by her palm pressed flat to his chest. A touch that left him rather stunned. In fact, everything about her, all she did and said so far, seemed to have such an effect on him.

Those keen eyes of hers narrowed at a little opening right in front of her. She carefully pushed more rye aside with the barrel of her gun, slowly, to peek through.

“Gotcha,” she mumbled quietly and pointed at tracks on the ground, which took a sharp turn eastwards, likely out of the field. She straightened her back and blinked over her shoulder, giving Dean a once over — which he did not know how to react to, even — and glanced further back. “Where’d you leave Tweedle-Dum?”

Dean flinched, turned to check on his brother, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Sa—?”

“Shush, God!” Phoebe groaned, glaring at Dean. “Are you trying to get us killed? This is a sneak-mission.”

Dean clicked his tongue, increasingly annoyed with her know-it-all attitude.

“Sorry, smartass,” he tched, voice dripping with sarcasm.

While he didn’t like the idea of leaving behind Sam, wherever the lanky guy has wandered off to, their best call was to follow the tracks while they were still fresh. If they were lucky, they’d lead right to the monster’s hideout.

What he definitely hated, however, was the fact that he had to chase this wolf with just Phoebe. Sam better had a damn good excuse to abandon him without further notice.

“You comin’ or what?”

Phoebe’s whispering had him snap out of his thoughts. Whilst he gave an affirmative nod, he could not refrain from grimacing in her direction the second she faced forward again. Still, finding the missing kid came first, even if he had to bite the bullet and team up with Phoebe for the time being.

They treaded through the meadow with haste but deliberate steps, until reaching the very edge of the field. The tracks, clearly paw prints with claws and all, lead them to a burrow. From the outside, it looked shallow, just a plain mound covered in leafs.

“Hold this,” Phoebe commanded flatly, shrugging off her coat and shoving it in Dean’s direction. He scrambled instinctively to not let it drop to the ground, then stared at her with wide eyes and disbelief.

“Quit treatin’ me like your damn assistant,” he snapped, wanting to shove her jacket back, but the girl was already crouching down, climbing into the hole in the ground. She had to squirm through the narrow opening, but managed to slide through eventually. Once inside, she dusted the dirt from her white shirt, albeit it remained stained now.

“Quit acting the part and I might,” she smirked up at him, all cocky. Upon watching her extending her arm towards him, his expression only sank further.

“If you want your stupid jacket back, why’d you give it to me?,” he huffed, refusing to return it just because she decided she wanted to order him around.

“I was gonna give you a hand, but suit yourself,” she shrugged, “just get your pretty ass down here, sweetheart. Ain’t got all day.”

Pretty ass? Sweetheart?

Dean’s mouth opened, but his mind blanked entirely, leaving him to gape like a dumbfounded fish. In a pathetic attempt to cover up his flustered state, he scoffed once more. “I don’t need your help,” he grumbled as he knelt, gripping the lower edge of the opening to give himself a push.

Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “You sure you wanna go in head first and not-?”

Her suggestion fell on deaf ears, though by the time Dean’s hands slipped — and so did he —, he wished he would’ve listened. He was definitely taller than Phoebe, which did not work in his favor in this case. He struggled to make his way through the entrance thanks to his broader frame. Upon losing his grip, he toppled over, falling downwards and landing on his quote-unquote pretty ass.

He didn’t need to look at Phoebe to know she was grinning at his unglamorous performance and she didn’t need to tease Dean to make him feel like an idiot for not sliding in feet first.

Once more, she extended her hand towards him and this time, he begrudgingly accepted the offer and let her pull him up to his feet.

“You okay?,” she asked through thinly veiled bemusement.

“Peachy,” Dean uttered bitterly and wiped the dirt from his clothes.

Ironically enough, Phoebe’s jacket remained entirely unharmed and without any blemishes. Life could be so unfair. He handed it back to her, if only to glare at her while doing so as if to signal her it was the coat’s fault, because he had his hands full or some lame excuse.

Whether or not Phoebe caught his drift, she decided against bickering over it further and instead took it back. Without another word she turned around and walked ahead, Dean following close behind. Even she had to duck her head in this cramped tunnel, but Dean wondered if crawling might’ve been more comfortable.

Since they weren’t far yet, Dean tried to text his brother, but the signal was weak. He wasn’t even sure the message came through. Where the hell did Sam run off to anyway?

“Can I ask you something personal?,” Dean murmured.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him. “I have a feeling you’ll ask me either way.”

Could she blame him for being curious?

“Since when’re you in the hunting game?,” he shrugged. “We’ve never seen you around anywhere and suddenly you’re everywhere.”

Phoebe remained silent for a moment, focusing on the path ahead instead of Dean’s questionnaire. It shouldn’t surprise him — they hadn’t exactly started on the right footing and she didn’t owe him any explanation, much less a biography. Banter or not though, he thought he should’ve at least heard her name before if she was that of an active hunter.

“I’m not a rookie, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she mumbled at last and if the tight tone did not give away that she’d rather not share details, then Dean knew from experience that most hunters had a tragic past that pushed them into this line of work.

The air down there grew staler with each step and darkness engulfed them. Dean did bring a lighter, at least, but even with that they had to be careful. The burrow turned out to be a large tunnel system. Perfect for any creature to pop in and out at various points. A flashlight might just attract unwanted attention

“Awfully quiet,” Dean remarked. “You think the wolf’s in here?”

“Sure hope so,” Phoebe sighed, gripping her gun just a little tighter. “I wanna get the kids out and burn this place to ashes.”

“Pyromaniac, are we?”

She didn’t respond to that. Even if she’d wanted to, their conversation was interrupted by another noise. Both hunters froze, ears perked.

Sobbing. Someone was sobbing.

“Hello?,” Phoebe called out, quickening her steps to rush towards the source of the sound.

So much for the element of surprise. Although the wolf did not seem to be within close range. For now, at least. Guided by the sniffles and crying, Phoebe and Dean turned the last corner and found themselves at the heart of the monster’s den.

The flooring was steeper, ceiling tall enough for Dean to finally stand comfortably. The same couldn’t be said for the kids within. Dean counted four of them, which matched with the recent missing person reports.

They were all cowering in a corner, little bodies curled up and shaking. Two of them, at least. The others lay there looking limp, like broken dolls.

“Rose,” Phoebe spoke and one of the girls lifted her head, tear stained eyes shell-shocked and face pale. “It’s okay, we’ll help you guys.”

It was the first time Dean witnessed a waver in the huntress’s voice. The woman swiftly approached the kids, checking up on each of them. A deep exhale followed.

“They’re alive,” she exclaimed in relief. “We gotta get them out of here. Rose, can you stand?”

The young girl stared back and forth between Phoebe and Dean and nodded weakly. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. So long as they’d get these children out of here, it would all be good.

Dean quickly took ahold of the two unconscious kids, carrying one on each arm.

Phoebe busied herself with stabilizing and encouraging the remaining two. They were terrified, clearly, and one of them had a nasty gash on his leg that looked like a painful infection. Tearing the sleeve from her jacket, the very same she didn’t want to get dirty earlier, Phoebe wrapped up the injury and picked the boy up onto her back.

“Look alive, guys, we’re as good as out of here,” she animated the group, nudging Dean forward.

“What about the wolf?,” Rose hushed, small hand in a death grip on the fabric of Phoebe’s pants.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean chimed in before Phoebe even had a chance to think about a response.

She might’ve known how to act quickly when necessary, but it seemed like Dean had the upper hand when it came to dealing with kids. She’s noticed as much earlier, when they were interrogating the Millers. Considering his tough guy act mixed with the grumpy attitude, Phoebe had to admit she did not expect it from him initially.

They made their way through the narrow space, retracing their steps carefully. While the beast was nowhere to be seen just yet, the very fact didn’t sit right with Phoebe. Worst case scenario would be for the predator to await them patiently at the exit, but she prayed her hunch would be wrong.

And for better or worse, it was.

Just as they reached the final slope, sunlight shining through the hole Dean had fallen into earlier, they heard it loud and clear. Deep growling, rustling through to their very bones.

“Shit,” Phoebe uttered and hastily pushed Rose towards Dean. “Get them out of here, now.”

Green eyes went wide.

“What?,” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “This is no time to be playing hero.”

“Quick!,” she groaned, both annoyed and urgently, her voice leaving no room for arguments.

While Dean cursed under his breath, he lifted Rose up and helped her climb outside. Once Phoebe had handed him the injured boy, he repeated the process. In exchange, she briefly held onto the unconscious kids, though her wary eyes kept gazing around to find the source of the growls.

Reluctantly, Dean pulled himself up and climbed outside, reaching down to pick up the remaining two kids.

Once all four were secured, he extended a hand down to Phoebe, but she shook her head.

“Get them out of here,” she repeated her earlier instructions, purposefully ignoring Dean’s growing frustration.

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, but flashed him a grin and — much to his surprise — held up his lighter in victorius fashion. She must’ve snatched it from his pocket earlier. “See you later.”

No matter how often Dean would call out her name, amongst other profanities (at least he tried to keep it PG13, considering he was surrounded by a bunch of kids), Phoebe turned on her heel and disappeared back into the darkness.

“Time for dinner, you bag of fleas!,” was the last thing he heard from her as she ran deeper inside.

She left him no choice. Dean seriously considered crawling back in and going after her, but how could he possibly leave behind an injured boy, a shell-shocked girl and two knocked out pre-teens? Whether or not you preferred to hunt solo, this was just reckless and he swore to himself he’d smack some sense into her, if the wolf wouldn’t take care of that for him already.

“Think you can walk?,” Dean sighed, sizing up the boy’s injury. Testing the movement, he gave a reluctant nod, but it was clear he wouldn’t be running a marathon anytime soon.

As long as they would get out of here in one piece, it would have to be enough.

Dean fulfilled his part of the task, taking the kids back and out of the field.

“Sam?”

His brother stood there, and so did a couple of police officers.

Excusing himself, Sam approached Dean while the officers tended to the kids.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?,” Dean groaned, clearly agitated. Almost skittishly, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, waiting for any sign from the redhead.

“I saw the cops approaching and had to buy us some time, looks like they didn’t listen to Phoebe’s request to wait it out,” Sam replied, before he too noticed her absence. “Speaking of the devil, where’d you leave her?”

“We found this burrow, she went back inside by herself,” Dean grumbled less than enthusiastically.

“You let her best you?,” Sam grinned.

“Shut it, ‘s not funny.”

Dean paced around once, twice, exchanged a couple of words with the officers, then grew too impatient.

“Screw it, I’m going back in,” he decided at last.

Sam couldn’t prevent him from hopping over the fence if he tried, but someone else was able to stop him in his tracks. A tuft of red hair appeared in Dean’s field of vision, leaving the older Winchester to yet again bump into her.

“Damnit, woman,” he groaned. “You ever think ahead? Ever?”

Phoebe blinked at Dean, unimpressed. She wiped a loose curl of red from her forehead, gazed towards Sam, then the police and the kids. When her eyes met Rose’s, her own softened, before she redirected her attention to Dean, whom she rewarded with nothing but a mischievious glint.

“You’re the one who keeps stumbling,” she reminded him and he wanted so badly to wipe that smug smirk of her lips.

Sensing from miles away that the bickering might just escalate, Sam chimed in: “What happened to the Roggenwolf?”

“Roasted,” Phoebe confirmed with a nod. “Sorry about your lighter, I had to toss it.”

Who cared about the damn lighter right now? Dean was still busy processing the fact that she’d run off by herself and returned within a couple of minutes as if nothing happened.

“You just set the burrow on fire?”

“Relax, not much down there to crumble,” she reassured. “It should go out by itself.”

An officer chimed in, thereby interrupting their conversation before Dean could further snap at the cocky pyromaniac. “Special Agents, I have a couple of questions.”

It didn’t take long for them to come up with a coherent story, and they didn’t seem to care too much. What mattered, at the end of the day, was that these children were healthy and safe and could soon return to their families. They’d have to get checked up on by doctors, but it seemed like they were unharmed for the most part.

Phoebe insisted on taking care of the rest, promising Sam and Dean that she’d handle the questionnaires and all. She stated she wanted to check on Rose and her family anyway, planning to drive after them to the hospital.

“It’s been a fun challenge, Winchesters,” Phoebe hummed, that damned playful smirk on her pink lips that had Dean’s brow twitch. “I’d say this point goes to me, though.”

“What are you—?”

Dean didn’t even get to finish his sentence, as Phoebe already put on her helmet, mounted her bike, gave a final wave, and drove off.

“It’s our point, give us some credit!,” Dean called after her, despite knowing there was no way he could still hear her.

“Seriously, dude,” Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just drop it already.”

Though Dean did not drop anything. The whole ride back he kept rambling on and on about how he carried the kids outside and that he did just as much hard work as she did. At some point Sam let his brother’s complaints go in through one ear and out through the other.

Given that the night was still young, they decided to grab a final bite for dinner before they’d leave town. The local pub seemed like the safest option for a beer and some food.

Though, when Dean was still on his rampage about Phoebe, even as they were seated in a booth and nursing a beer bottle each, Sam finally interrupted him.

“Dean, the monster’s gone, the day is saved,” he groaned. “A win is a win.”

“Except you guys didn’t win this time, I did.”

Oh, that voice alone was enough to rile Dean up in all the wrong ways. Blinking up simultaneously, the brothers’ eyes met that of Phoebe’s. Her expression was as bright as ever, grin reaching from one ear to another.

“Scooch over, princess,” she hummed nonchalantly and squeezed into the two-seater, making herself comfortable right next to Dean.

“Who’s tailing us now, sweetheart? I thought— hold up, did you just call me princess?”

“I’m sorry, weren’t we just literally chasing a fairy tale like monster? Remind me, who fell on their ass like a damsel in distress and who defeated the monster again?”

“You fell on your ass?,” Sam snickered, though the death-glare Dean sent his way had his grin drop immediately. He quickly took a sip from his beer to shut himself up.

“What do you want?,” Dean groaned in Phoebe’s direction.

She was already a thorn in his side, a damn tick on his ass. Her casual attitude about their proximity was just the cherry on top, though. Of course she didn’t give a crap about personal space in the slightest. Too close for comfort, her shoulder brushed against his as she fumbled around in the pocket of her jacket.

“Clearing a debt,” Phoebe spoke calmly, pulling a small, silver item. “It’s not exactly the same, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Dean’s eyebrow quirked up in surprise as his eyes fell on a lighter. Phoebe slid it across the table towards him. The second he picked it up he realized it was a fancy one, the comfortable weight heavy in his palm, material solid. It had a pentagram engraved on one side, too.

“What’s this?,” he asked, confused.

“Uh, last time I checked, you call it a lighter,” Phoebe chuckled teasingly. “You click this part and there’ll be a little flame. Convenient, huh?”

“I know it’s a damn lighter,” Dean grunted. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Well, I kinda lost your old one,” she shrugged. “And I don’t like being in other people’s debt.”

Dean blinked at her, dumbfounded. Then at the lighter, which he turned in his palm once, twice and a third time. It fit in his hand oddly perfect. He usually didn’t pay attention to these kinds of things. A lighter was a lighter, just a random tool, good for salt and burns. He must’ve sacrificed dozens of them in his life as a hunter — none of them this nice, though.

“It was just a lighter,” Dean stated, matter of factly.

“If you don’t want a replacement, I can—”

But before Phoebe was able to take it back, Dean held the thing closer to his chest and shoved it in his pocket.

“I’ll take it,” he grumbled. “Consider it your compensation for being a pain in our asses lately.”

She snorted softly, exhaled through her nose and leaned back in her seat.

“You guys did kind of help me,” she muttered and scratched the back of her head. “I’m usually not the best team-player, so…”

Sam glanced back and forth between the two briefly, before mumbling something about grabbing another drink from up front. Even though the seat opposite to Dean’s was free now, Phoebe remained right next to him.

Her eyes followed Sam, if only for an excuse to not look at Dean. She purposefully avoided his gaze, glancing at anything but him. The table, the napkins on the table, the logo on the napkins on the table—

“You didn’t just follow after us for a lighter, did you?”

Dean’s voice had her head snap up. Wide eyes stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Until she cleared her throat and looked off to the side again, anyway. He didn’t think he’d see her act coyly and shy, ever, honestly. It was as unexpected as it was endearing, strangely.

“Sam was right,” she mumbled awkwardly. “We should’ve just teamed up from the get-go. Just— Didn’t exactly have the best kind of experiences with other hunters.”

Though her explanation was rather vague, Dean knew what she was talking about. He, too, wasn’t always fully on board when it came to hunting with others. Sam, of course, was an exception, but does family really count in this matter?

Casually, he leaned back, one hand still holding onto the beer while his other arm was draped around the back of their seats.

“We did some pretty good work back there, huh?,” he hummed at last and never in a million years would Phoebe have guessed that he’d be the one to bite the bullet and admit that their cooperation had been… fun.

She couldn’t help but smirk, the fire in her eyes familiar to him by now.

“Well, I did most of it, but sure,” she winked to which he barked out a chuckle.

“I carried a whole daycare out of that burrow!”

“After you fell on your butt.”

“You’ll never let me hear the end of this, will ya?”

“Never.”

Conversation flowed and even though it was mostly conversation filled with playful banter, Dean’s beer bottle was soon exchanged by a second one and she was nursing a drink of her own. There must’ve been some truth to the whole alcohol loosening one’s tongue saying.

Liquid kept flowing, as did the laughter, and their chatter.

“Scoreboard says I’m in the lead with a solid 1-0, Winchester,” Phoebe huffed with a cocky smirk. “Doesn’t matter how you look at it, I won this case, fair and square.”

“What about that vampire nest in Colorado?,” Dean shrugged and tilted his head. “I know you were there, but if I remember correctly, I wiped it out.”

“And you did a horrible job at cleaning up,” Phoebe pointed out, rolling her eyes at the memory of running into a nest, guns blazing, only to find a bunch of decapitated vampires there already. “But, if you want to count the other cases as well, I’m still ahead of you, 3-1.”

Dean regarded her words for a moment, wondering just how many cases they had been on at the same time, maybe even without the other one knowing. Again, the past couple months have consisted of running back and forth on leads that turned out to be already solved.

He shifted in his seat, fingers brushing over his pocket. The lighter still sat inside it, heavy against his chest.

“You’re not the only one who likes to settle scores,” Dean spoke, voice lowered and eyes dropping to her lips.

“That so?,” Phoebe smirked. “Sounds like you wanna return a favor.”

“If you’re up for it,” he replied, his own lips curling into a smirk. “We’ll be even before tomorrow morning.”

Words that had Phoebe bite her lower lip and squeeze her thighs together. “You’re as unbelievable as they say,” she snickered. If he didn’t know it any better, he’d say he was getting under her skin.

But Phoebe Bennett, as far as he could tell, was not easy to fluster. And just like with everything about her, he liked the challenge. The faint hue of red dusting her nose was a start, one that made him wonder just how flushed she could get.

Dean leaned closer, one arm still resting behind her. Under the table, their knees were brushing together just barely. The electricity between them had her skin feel all fizzy.

His scent was earthy and it seemed to surround her completely. Soft leather and sweetened whiskey. A smell of something warm. Of something dangerous.

“Is that a no?”

Her eyes locked with his green ones, the color of which was almost consumed by dark pupils.

Although her voice was barely above a whisper, it pierced right through the dull background noises of music and patron’s chattering: “I never say no to a challenge.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice.

“Me neither,” Dean smiled back and they both got up, grabbed their jackets and left some cash at their booth. A fast stride lead them out into the cold of the night, though their bodies were already running warm.

Dean’s hand found hers on instinct, if only to pull her closer and whisper into her ear: “Where’re you staying, sweetheart?”

It was up to her to squeeze his hand and drag him along, across the road and around a corner. It only took them a couple of minutes to get to her motel.

The bigger struggle awaited them in front of her door.

Phoebe fumbled with the keys, a task that proved to be much, much more difficult with Dean’s hands at her waist and the scruff of his beard on her neck. His breath was warm against the shell of her ear, but his fingertips were burning up her skin the second he slipped them under her shirt.

Once inside, finally, all bets were off.

Dean kicked the door close behind them and in the very same motion pulled Phoebe closer. In his embrace, she turned around, taking a confident step to push his back against said door and her mouth against his.

His taste was even more intoxicating than his scent.

Dean returned the kiss with equal fervor, those hungry lips of his exploring her soft mouth, her warm tongue.

Only two things managed to break them apart: The lack of oxygen making them so dizzy they had to catch a breath, and eager pairs of hands impatiently tugging at fabric. They took off layer after layer, jackets and shoes pooling at their feet and forming a path towards the bed.

Dean had half a mind to retrieve a foil package from his wallet before discarding his jeans.

By the time he was in just his boxers and the only thing hugging her curves was thin lace, the back of Phoebe’s knees hit the mattress and she fell back onto the sheets.

Her chest was heaving, her skin already flushed. How could he not give her that boyish, cheeky grin, all cocky and victorious? Though whatever smart remark was on the back of his mind, it died on his tongue as she pulled him down on top of her and silenced her with another deep kiss.

Phoebe’s arms fit around his neck perfectly and her nails raked down his back deliciously, the ministration earning her a small grunt from him which she drank up like honey. His whimper was thick on her tongue and sweet and they both knew then this was going to be as much of a competition as the hunt had been.

Not wanting to fall behind, Dean allowed his hands to roam every inch of her body. Her back arched neatly beneath him, silky skin pressing into his touch and permitting him to unclasp her black bra.

His kisses wandered down her jaw and across her neck, settling on the spot right beneath her ear, because that was the one that made her shiver the most. However, she wasn’t going to surrender that easily. One of her hands raked back up, delicate fingers combing through his hair and giving it a firm tug.

While it didn’t stop him from latching onto her collarbone and travelling further south, nibbling and licking down the valley of her breasts, her taste did make him feel dizzy. She swallowed hard, her head falling back into the pillows so that her messy hair framed her reddened face in a way only a halo of fiery sunrays could.

Their dance was a back and forth on who could drive the other insane better — the match being rather even.

Dean hissed through his teeth as he felt Phoebe roll her hips intentionally. Her breath hitched all the same as she felt his hardness press against the plush of her thigh.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Dean rasped, voice husky and thick with need. “It’s not a marathon.”

“Feels to me like you’re the one who’s impatient,” she retorted with a chuckle, while looping one leg around his hip and pulling him closer. Her thigh draped around his body as if to invite him in, though he wasn’t sure if she was trying to lure him into a trap at this point.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only bold one here. Two could play the game of riling up, and fuck, was she good at it.

Dean’s grip on her hips tightened, firm enough to make her flesh feel all tender and almost bruised up. His fingers were sinking into her skin as if to anchor himself, or to stop her grinding motions.

“You’re in for it now,” he huffed, crooked grin on his lips belying his attempts at teasing her.

He hooked his fingers through the waistband of her panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. She obliged by lifting her hips, though his sudden action had her gasping and chuckling all the same.

“See, that’s what I meant,” she hummed nonchalantly, bringing her own hands down to his boxers.

Dean instinctively held his breath and his eyes did not leave hers. His hands splayed over her thighs, fingers drawing closer and closer to her folds. Subtle twitches of his muscles confirmed her accusations only further.

“So impatient,” Phoebe whispered sultrily, only so much as toying with the fabric of his underwear. Her fingers ghosted across the bulge inside and her grin widened as he tried bucking his hips into the tantalizing touch. “I thought you wanted to take your time?”

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. That girl’s tongue was way too sharp.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” he huffed, his thumb finding her clit and making her inhale sharply. “You’re just as eager.”

There was no denying that, not with her dripping over his fingers. She bit her lower lip, opening her thighs even more while Dean gathered her slick on his digits and slowly circled them around her entrance.

“Dean—”

Before she could complain further, though he did like that whiny tone of hers, one of his fingers slid into her with embarrassing ease. She cried out softly, which only urged him to add a second finger. A breathless curse left her plump lips as he pumped them in and out of her steadily.

He flashed his teeth in yet another cheeky grin. “You were saying?”

“Get fucked,” she scoffed, expression twisted into one of pleasure and annoyance all the same.

“What do you think I’m doing here?,” he laughed heartily and Phoebe felt the shudder run down her spine thanks to it. She blinked at him through thick lashes, the relentless pace of his fingers making her toes curl.

He had barely touched her yet and already managed to make her stumble across her own words? Not fair.

Unyielding, Phoebe worked her own charms. She pulled his boxers down enough for his erection to spring free and wasted no second to wrap her fingers around him. Stroking firmly up and down, her keen eyes caught every subtle twitch of his brows.

Dean wasn’t going to give up the upper hand that easily, though. His thumb drew tight circles on her swollen nub, applying the perfect pressure to her button.

“Fuck, Dean,” Phoebe moaned. While she was already close, the warm velvet of her walls squeezing his fingers like a vice, she was still too prideful to beg for anything. Even if that meant she had to groan and whine as he pulled his fingers out of her.

The shift of the mattress beneath her prompted her to blink up at the man again and at least the sight of him rolling on the condom soothed her frustration. A little bit, at least.

Deciding to help him to speed up the process, she sat up slightly, readjusting her own position so he could settle right between her thighs, his strong hands holding onto her waist while hers gripped his shoulders.

“Are you gonna show me some bite now?,” she grinned. No matter how out of breath she was, she’d always have it in her to talk back to him, it seemed. Her and that daring attitude of hers were out for trouble.

Not that he wasn’t up for the challenge.

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth sinking right into the hollow of her throat and drawing a broken yelp from it. Using the fact that her jaw fell open to his advantage, he shoved his fingers into her mouth right after. She fought the urge to literally bite back, instead just blushing as she realized she could taste herself on his skin still.

Phoebe played along, sucking on his middle and fourth finger until her lips brushed against the cool metal of his silver ring. Her tongue swirled around its edge, that look in her eyes a daring one.

Her sob was muffled, sounding so broken but beautiful as Dean sheathed his length into her without warning. Her body nearly jolted, were it not for his deathgrip on her. His forehead dropped to her shoulder with a grunt. He was giving them both a moment to adjust, before rocking his hips.

“Not so witty now, are you, sweetheart? Just needed someone to stuff that smart, pretty little mouth of yours, hm?”

She whimpered, that next thrust of his sending her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. On God, she would’ve come up with a snarky remark, but alas, his thick digits pressing down on her tongue prevented her from any commentary.

But, actions speak louder than words.

Squeezing his sides with her thighs, she switched positions with him, rolling over and straddling his lap. Her lips curled into a smile around his fingers as she looked down on him.

That look of surprise in those green eyes, wide and glimmering, always made her feel so very powerful. Putting Dean Winchester in his place gave her a kick like nothing else could.

Phoebe took his wrist and pulled his hand away from her mouth, releasing his fingers with a wet pop.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Winchester,” she hummed lowly and gave a deliberate roll of her hips.

Dean’s breath hitched and he bit his lower lip and screw all if it wasn’t the prettiest sight she had ever seen. He was looking breathtaking like this. Strands of light hair sticking out messily from where her fingers had tugged at it. Pink lips puffy and kiss-bitten. Freckled face dusted in red warmth, especially around his nose.

“Takes more than that to tame me, cowboy,” Phoebe smiled daringly, pressing both palms to his chest, one to trace over his tattoo, the other to feel the quickened heartbeat beneath his warm skin. The pitter-patter was strong and relentless, making her feel just as alive.

She felt him throb inside of her and egged him on with another grind of her hips against his. In this position he was so damn deep that her thighs were quivering at his sides.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Dean’s voice was thick with desire and hoarse, his breathing irregular as he hissed through his teeth. Not that he gave her a chance to answer. Not when he could make her gasp so prettily by just jerking his hips upwards.

“Fucking hell.”

They moaned in unison, their curses blending together perfectly.

Rough palms slid up her thighs and waist, only for her to be lifted up and slammed back down on his cock. It earned him the addicting sensation of her clenching around him, pussy fluttering as if she didn’t want to let go of him, ever.

He could get used to this for sure.

Their hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of skin. Every squeeze was meant for memorizing freckles and scars, every bounce and squirm intended to drive the other mad with lust.

When Phoebe was nearly shaking, Dean used the last of his strength to sit up and pull her close. She held onto him for dear life as he drove into her again and again and again, their skin slick with sweat and hot to the touch.

Their foreheads bumped together, noses touching, puffs of warm exhales mingling together as their dance became more and more erratic. One final thrust turned both their visions white. Liquid heat rushed through their veins with Phoebe falling apart in his lap and Dean slumping against her all the same.

Moans and cries echoed off the motel walls until the only noise left was heavy panting.

They fell onto the bed like one big mess of entangled limbs.

Once they had somewhat found their breath again, both rolled onto their backs, staring at the ceiling. What a day filled with tension could do to someone, huh?

Dean was the first to speak up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Although, all he could come up with was a breathy “Wow.”

Phoebe laughed shortly and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

The green-eyed hunter chuckled too, before turning to his side and leaning up onto one elbow. She met his gaze, raising an eyebrow as she saw the toothy grin on his face. What a stark contrast to the continuous scowl and annoyed attitude she had been met with throughout the day.

“What’re you looking so proud for?,” Phoebe snorted playfully, but not even that was enough to wipe the confidence from his expression.

“Would you say we’re even now?,” Dean shrugged, almost chirped.

Phoebe burst into laughter and shook her head in disbelief. “What, like an orgasm scores a point?”

He shrugged, again, still grinning.

“Well, then I’d say we’re at a solid 4-2 now,” she hummed mischieviously.

The way his smirk faded almost made her feel bad. Her own grin softened, if only for a split second. She reached over, ruffling his already disheveled hair gently, then smoothing it over.

“There’s always a next game, champ.”

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yanderecandystore · 1 year ago

Note

Angst ᐛ. So imagine y/n is fully aware of what the beldam is about. I'm talking from the very begining but kept coming back since they felt so alone. And at some point y/n just walks in, plots their head in the beldam's chest, tearing up after a particularly bad day and is just like. "You know, I know what youre gonna ask... About the buttons. I know its just a way to eat me. But to be honest just hearing yoinsay 'i care about you' is making me consider the offer. Pathetic right?" Would the beldam make it a quick kill or would he not want to eat them anymore? Of course if you dont feel comfortable writing this thats fine too.

The reason why I always take too long to write anything about Male Beldam/Belsire, is because I always fear making something that people won't like especially since it's my most liked story-

But after rereading the story I realized it really isn't all that good X'D I feel like it could have been a lot better if I had put more time into it.

I'm sorry for taking so long to write this, but I really don't want to leave you guys hanging especially since I do really like the idea of a "twisted" ending sort of thing. Thank you for requesting this!

It's very short, but I hope I can talk more about it because I do wonder how Y/n will deal with this new life.

TW/Tags: Mentions of: Gore; death // Arachnophobia Warning // Scotomaphobia Warning (Reader is now blind) // Manipulation // Human flesh consumption (not from the Reader) // this is very short sorry // not proofread lmao (headaches) // Reader is very unresponsive to the things that happen around them.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

A peek at the keyhole [Yandere!Belsire x GN!Reader - A short Oneshot]

It was during dinner that you decided to seal the deal, he was acting strange… He was starving and you were sure of it. Which was funny because you never saw him eat, now that you think about it.

He doesn't understand where you got that knowledge of how he behaves or of what he consumes- Maybe it was just a lucky guess based on his desperate need to keep you "unaware", always giving a poorly disguised lie about himself.

Who was he? What was he? What did he want? He was your best friend, silly. He was your other friend, and all he wanted was to be with you.

Lies, lies, half truths. He was simply too shady for his own benefit, too obvious for his own good.

Or perhaps he really liked this back and forth between you two, after all- What proof did you have of anything? You couldn't trust his words, yes, but what else did you have to go with?

Just that sinking feeling in your stomach whenever he was near you, whenever he tapped his fingers impatiently because you were just oh so curious about him!

It was adorable, really. Infuriatingly adorable.

Because it didn't matter how much you knew about him, or his "real intentions" with you- You always came back for more. His words of reassurance coated with thick honey and distributed with a soft, calm tone of voice that was just as patronizing as it was endearing.

Treating you like royalty every time you came around and yet always keeping you at arm's length when it came to learning more about him, but did any of that even matter?

You were being taken care of, wasn't that enough? You had friends with you, an adoring handsome fella that wasn't shy at all about treating you more than a friend, if you wanted him to. There was clear favoritism and although common sense would have told you it was a massive red flag, you couldn't deny it was quite refreshing to be regarded with so much love.

The fun will never end, he said. It could go for as long as you wanted, forever even if you agreed to stay with just a little, tiny condition.

He didn't have to explain it in detail for you to instantly agree with him, you cling to him already aware of what your fate would be. A bad day was all he needed for you to accept it in a heartbeat? He could have done this a lot sooner than.

It was just you and him, standing in the kitchen as you hugged him, burying yourself in both a need for contact but also out of embarrassment- Shame of throwing yourself away to the unknown without second thought.

It took him by surprise at first, although not ideal he still met his goal sooner than he expected- Only a couple of nights spent with him and his creations, with only a few fabulous events in between.

Of course he couldn't go TOO wild with his attractions, after all you didn't need a spectacular show to be lured in, you just wanted to be heard and included.

" … Oh dear… Pathetic? Why? There's no reason to feel this way, you made the right choice… "

He wanted to still reassure you of your actions, but it was hard hiding the eagerness in his voice.

He held you tightly, cooing you gently despite your unisseanes and uncertainty.

It was mostly so you wouldn't see the illusion breaking, so you wouldn't hear the sounds of your other friends turning into dust… He simply couldn't keep them for much longer, and now he didn't need to.

It's a shame they couldn't warn you of your mistake sooner, it's a shame that everything he creates reflects his adoration to the people he lures in. If only they could warn you to not let him do this, that it wasn't really worth it.

" Come… It'll be quick, don't worry. " He led you with his hands, which were feeling colder by the minute, sharper than before. Thinner than before.

The lights of the house were starting to lower if not fully turn off behind you as you only focused on following him to his little workshop. You felt the stairs lose their solidity after lifting your feet, each step turning from wood to web quickly.

You were actively following him to your doom, you knew that, and as much as you wanted to you couldn't run away now.

He opened the door to the attic, the only thing that seemed intact in this empty and dark place- It was as if the house was starting to disappear the higher he went, and as you followed him there was no need to keep the rest of the house.

He was trying to be economical here, too many things to keep magically attached and realistic all the time- With no break for lunch.

The attic was the only thing that seemed actually real for you, stepping inside you felt the old floor creek. It was old, moldy, but somehow always well kept, as it was one of the only real things in this void he took care of.

It was his favorite place in the house.

" You can go sit on that chair over there, but if you would like to choose I have a great variety of colors and types for you to pick. " The voice that held warmth and youth to it was also disappearing and being replaced with a dry throat, a rougher tone and a lack of discernible emotion behind it.

You could only tell there was impatience by the constant tapping of his fingernails on his board as he showed you all the possible options.

Classic black like his? Baby blue? Chartreuse?? His constant tapping made you feel like a ticking clock taunting you to pick a color already-

You just pointed to the one color you liked most, hey, who wouldn't want to have their favorite color as their eye color? Although, it wasn't really eyes. Just buttons.

He hummed while giving you a soft smile.

" I'm glad you made a choice for me, I would have been too indecisive. Ah, but they're perfect for you..! You're going to make me so jealous, doll.." It was a joke, or maybe a compliment. It was hard to tell if his monotonous voice was out due to boredom, anger or was his voice like this in general.

Well, he didn't seem mad?? It was hard to understand him and to be honest you were getting very nervous. You sat down in the tall chair, its pastel colors did little to nothing to calm you down. Was this really a good idea?

" Are you ready?... It'll be quick I promise… Although… "

He grabbed your face, trying to be gentle as he inspected your panicking eyes.

You didn't understand what was going inside his head, you couldn't tell what he was planning to do and you weren't sure if his touch was starting to freak you out or sooth you.

" … It'll be fine. I'll make sure of it." He sighed before kissing your forehead, so you wouldn't forget he cared about you.

It was agonizing.

You don't know for how long you stayed out, but you remember your brain blacking out after he sewed the first one in.

You're not sure how you even survived through him stabbing your eyes with a needle- Hell, were you even alive at all?! You couldn't see anything, so either he successfully closed your eyes or you were dead.

No, you probably weren't dead yet, your headache just as bad as your entire face- Raising your hand slowly to touch your face you could feel your eyes covered by thick cloth, it was slightly wet.

Slightly touching and pushing like that caused you to feel immense pain, you immediately stopped- It was still fresh so of course it would hurt like hell.

You were sure that you felt the shape of the buttons underneath the cloth, however.

Your ears buzzed as you tried to regain some of your strength, as you tried to get out from your torture chair you forgot how tall it was- Missing a step and crashing down to the old attic floor with no one to help you.

Falling sure felt like falling! The floor sure felt like a crusty old floor! Yep, you weren't dead.

Your head was aching so badly you weren't sure if what you heard was real or not, but you were sure you heard some commotion coming from downstairs.

It was loud enough to muffle your little accident.

The voices below were followed by painful screaming that lasted for a few minutes after complete silence. A chilling sensation settled in as you started to wonder if the screams you heard felt familiar to you in any way.

You carefully started to get up, slowly you started to consider if you should go back to the tall chair or just make a run for it- But to where? You couldn't see anything!!

You considered taking the cloth off- But you didn't want to feel the pain that came from it. You needed to let it heal after all. Though, you doubted that you would be able to see anything with freaking BUTTONS in your eyes!!

Was it too late to regret your decision? It seemed like it.

You walked around trying to feel your way, where was the door again? You were sure you were on the right track… Your hand went from old wood to a nice clean carpet- Wait- Wasn't the house entirely destroyed? Shouldn't it be a spider web here?

Or, well, everywhere?

The fur of the carpet fooled you as you felt your hand squeeze something very soft that squeaked and scurried away from you. A rat.

" I'm sorry!- " You whispered to him, but he didn't appreciate your attempt at escaping, he squealed as he ran down stairs alerting his owner that you were awake.

Well, shit.

You would have screamed if you were able to see the heavy thing that came up the stairs in such a hurry, it didn't help that although you couldn't see him, the sound of metal hitting the walls and the floor made you highly concerned.

What the fuck was that-

" You shouldn't have left the room without telling me. " The same monotonous voice, although he didn't sound so exhausted like he did before- Not as hungry, you assumed.

" Come, let me help you. " You could hear him approach, as if he was wearing high heels it was hard to not hear him coming closer.

And you couldn't help but feel like distancing yourself further, his boney fingers didn't help you feel any more relaxed- They were sharp and cold, it felt like pure needles taking your hand and pulling you up.

" You need to rest for a little longer, doll. But you can't heal with an empty stomach right? " He guided you with his hand, you felt sick at the mention of food.

He helped you get down the stairs by holding you bride style, and you almost cried at the sensation of his hard and cold skin, you trembled at how those same needles would gently squeeze your skin-

One wrong move and they would tear your skin apart.

He helped you sit in a chair, you assumed you were at the kitchen's table by now.

Was this your end…? Was he really going to do this now??

…. No. He was just cooking something, presumably for you. It smelled of omelets and orange juice, it was simple but it was a very nice scent.

This kitchen reeked of blood, however. Instinctively you took your hands to cover your nose, and probably your mouth as well since you weren't sure if shouting would be a good idea right now. He hates loud noises.

" Don't worry about it, it was just a pesky guest who didn't take no for an answer! I'm sorry for the mess. I'll clean it up after you eat. " A more upbeat and sweet voice, the same one you were more accustomed with. Reassurance and comfort all tied with a smile you were more familiar with.

Approaching you with a plate in hand, and a juice glass in the other.

" Don't worry, I didn't put any of the nasty stuff for you. Just eggs and lots of love. The spoiled food is for me. " He kissed you on the cheek, it felt like being touched by porcelain.

He handed you the fork, but you weren't sure if you wanted to find out if he kept his word or not.

He killed someone here, didn't he? Those noises you heard when you were up in the attic plus the smell of iron coating every inch of this kitchen sure weren't just coincidence. He… He wouldn't force you to eat someone, would he?

Who was it?... Who was it..?!

Was he referring to the person as "spoiled food"?

" Doll. I told you to not worry. There's no meat on your plate, I'm a bit selfish when it comes to sharing food. I'm sorry but there's nothing left of them for you, if I knew you wanted to try I wouldn't have been so careless- "

" N-No, it's… It's fine! I'm just… I can't really see anything…" You tried to not sound as terrified of him as you were, heaven knows you shouldn't feed any monster your own fear, it's what they live on.

" …. Aw… You're blind, I'm so sorry! I forgot about that. " He started to laugh as he slapped his forehead about forgetting something so crucial, silly him!

You weren't sure if he was being honest about forgetting that, but you sure as hell knew by the way he snatched the fork from your hand and how he seemed to drag his chair closer to you that he was probably very excited to do this.

" Say, ah~! " You knew he was having fun when he pinched your cheek to make you open your mouth.

Well, yep, those were just eggs. I mean it was a very tasty omelet but that was it, the orange juice didn't taste any different. Probably a little too sweet, but that's it.

It was probably due to the pain you were feeling in the front of your entire face that made you very much NOT interested in eating, or maybe it was the dripping sound and the smell of blood. The thought that somehow you were sitting possibly next to a murder scene, and/or a body, and the murderer was feeding you, made you very unease.

" Try to not think too much about it, it's just the way things will be for now… Isn't it so much better this way too? We will be able to spend so much time together and I just need you to stay in the attic whenever we have "guests" over. Do you understand me? "

" With just a little bit of magic I'm about to make the house more comfortable for you, to cook you meals endlessly and I can even make you a few more outfits. I'll be sure to make the house more appropriate for a human like you. "

He petted your head after you finished the plate, kissing your forehead and letting the dishes in the sink.

" Now, let me help you get up, we'll need to give you a bath and put you in more comfortable clothes, and then we can lay down. I'm sure you're still very tired after our little surgery. "

He helped you get up and walked you towards the bathroom… You couldn't help but feel worried about what you were doing.

Wasn't this all you ever wanted? To be adored by someone who treats you so well? Didn't you feel glad you accepted his offer?

Were you a bad person for wanting this?

Well, you didn't want THIS as in- Him eating people- All you wanted was to be with him for longer…

Why did you feel really scared whenever he touched with the same gentleness but none of the softness his skin used to have? You knew running wouldn't be a good idea since you couldn't see anything, and you didn't know the layout of the house well enough to memorize where the little door was...

Right?

" You're so stiff, my love! Are you scared of walking around your own house? I promise I kept everything intact, it's my house as well you know… And besides I'll always be here to guide you while you still recover. " You felt him nuzzle his hand against your neck, cold, hard. You wondered how much he changed now that he didn't need to pretend to look a certain way for you.

Maybe it was best to not know.

" … You're so silent right now, it almost feels like I have been running my mouth for hours! I didn't know you were such a silent type. " He teased, while kissing the back of your neck gently.

It was probably your lack of spatial awareness, but he somehow seemed a lot taller- As if it took some effort to lower himself down just to kiss you.

" My head… it hurts so much.."

" Aw, I know, love, I know. It'll take a while for you to feel better but it'll be so worth it… I'll help you learn new things, like how to feel the vibrations in my web, it'll help you "see" better. Or how to read braille, or how to walk around the house carefully, or how to tell someone is planning on running away during a conversation. "

He poked the sides of your stomach, an action that was supposed to be just couple's teasing but was actually quite terrifying and painful considering how sharp his fingers were.

" You couldn't be any less obvious love. I'm sorry if I scared you, I couldn't resist. " And yet he didn't sound irritated or annoyed, it could be that he was just pretending to not care… But he sounded more amused than anything.

" I'm just teasing you, doll! Come on, don't look like that, I'm just in a good mood! You know I can't stay annoyed at you. Let's hurry up and get you cleaned, alright? "

As he carefully started to shove you inside the bathroom you wondered if he didn't mess with something in your head alongside your eyes.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere coraline au #yandere beldam #yandere male beldam #gn!reader #special delivery request #special delivery oneshot

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starry-blue-echoes · 9 months ago

Text

I found this old snippet 90% finished in my drafts so W O E, 2k words of Tonio being my favorite character and Mr.Giovanna slowly understanding that he is not in fact Giogio's father anymore <333

(also tw for implied/referenced child abuse since Giorno)

-------------

Tonio noticed the second the man approached Giorno’s table.

His customers knew better than to do so. They knew the boy was under his personal protection and it was best to steer clear. A greeting hello when the boy arrived, a brief exchange of conversation, an offered treat or trinket was of course allowed, but approaching his booth while Tonio was not present?

That was not common.

In fact, by the time Tonio made it out of the kitchen and to the dining area, the man had gathered quite a bit of attention from the other customers if the glances being cast his way were anything to go by.

The man was practically looming over Giorno’s booth, all but boxing the boy into his seat and talking in a low voice so as to not be overheard. Tonio couldn’t even see Giorno from his spot.

Tonio did not like this.

He did not like this one bit.

So plastering on his best Customer Service Smile, he approached.

“Excuse me sir,” he spoke up, keeping his voice light and pleasant. “My apologies, but at this establishment you must wait to be seated.”

The man turned to face him, not moving away from the booth and instead attempting to slide a softer, kinder mask over his features.

Hm.

It was sloppy, Tonio couldn't help but note. Sure the facial expressions were… passable, he supposed, but his body language was all wrong. Maybe spending so much time amongst the real dangers in Italy had made him a bit of a snob, but honestly this was laughable.

“Ah, you misunderstand sir, I’m not here to eat, though I have heard good things about this restaurant.” the man waved him off with what was supposed to be a lighthearted chuckle that only succeeded in feeling patronizing. “I’m here to pick up my son.”

“Oh?” Tonio responded with a slit tilt of the head, and a cold, cold feeling slipped into his gut. “You’re this boy’s father then? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Step father, technically.” Mr.Giovanna explained, the veiled insult sailing clear over his head. “His mother already had him when I stepped into the picture, but I see and love him as my own.”

His smile got tighter when he saw Giorno, kind, smart, shy Giorno who loved frogs and ladybugs and the color pink and listening to Tonio talk about recipes, flinch.

“I see.” was all he offered.

Tonio knew so little. So, so little. Part of him knew it was purposeful. That he was giving himself plausible deniability. An empty comfort.

But he knew enough. He’d always known enough. More than enough really.

And now it was looking him dead in the eyes and spitting in his face, daring him to lie down and take it.

“Well, it’s getting late. We’d best be getting back to the house before your mother starts dinner. Come along, Giorno, you’ve taken up enough of this man’s time.”

How long has he been standing idly by as he’d seen Giorno hurt?

How many times has he knowingly allowed Giorno to return to that sorry excuse of a family?

How many times has he merely nursed his injuries instead of doing anything to stop them from happening in the first place?

Well no longer.

“Actually, sir.” he interrupted. “I have some…. concerns I’d like to speak with you about.”

The man froze before slowly turning toward him.

There was a dangerous glint in his eyes and he not very subtly squared his shoulders to make himself look bigger.

“Oh?”

How funny. The man thought he was intimidating.

Tonio had done a bit of asking around about Giorno’s family when the boy hadn't been present. Nothing too nosey of course, just the standard gossip that was floating around which he generally got quite a lot of.

And the results of his findings were quite fruitful.

Mr.Giovanna had a temper and was somewhat quick to anger, and he’d had a few dealings with the underworld, but that was as all. The man wasn't anyone important nor did he have any connections whatsoever.

He was just a simple, ordinary, powerless man.

A man who in the long run wouldn’t be able to do a thing to Tonio.

Tonio did not normally like taking advantage of his position, of the power he had at his fingertips. The near crippling fear of entrenching himself further and further into this world always had held him at bay, but in this moment he was more than willing to make an exception for this.

“Yes.” he made a slight show of stepping slightly closer to Mr.Giovanna and the booth seat, closer than was socially acceptable and a clear challenge to the man’s current proximity to Giorno. “And in all honesty, I’m not quite certain I feel comfortable allowing you to leave with this boy.”

“And for what reasons would that be?” Mr.Giovanna was openly glaring at him now, trying and failing to loom over a man who had a few centimeters on him.

“I notice things, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, keeping his words clipped and flat lest his rage bubble over. “Giorno has been a patron in my restaurant for well over a year now, and I am not nearly as blind or stupid as you appear to think of me. I may be a chef, but I am also very familiar with the practices of medicine and the healing processes of the human body.”

Sometimes Tonio loathed this skill of his. Of seeing the way people moved and being able to pinpoint exactly what was wrong, of seeing the lethargy and careful movements and stiffness and knowing of the presence of bruises or cigarette burns or broken skin.

(In a bitterly comforting way, Giorno had always liked that part of him. Of their shared skill. He said it made him feel less alone and less strange)

Mr.Giovanna simply sneered at him. “And why exactly are you paying so much attention to little boys?”

His rage surged at the accusation, howling and throwing itself against the cage he’d locked it inside, only made worse by the man’s smugness as though he’d just won and Tonio would back down.

Oh how he longed for his butcher’s knives. They cut through skin and muscle like warm butter and would so easily make short work of the man before him.

“You know very well that is not what I’m talking about.” much to his dismay, his calm mask had begun to crack at the edges, his voice growing more tense and taught with every prolonged moment. This man was managing to slide through every crack of his carefully constructed walls in ways the most vile, loathsome mafioso couldn’t, and all with hardly more than a few words.

This needed to end soon. Before Tonio did something he would regret. For Giorno’s sake.

“I am not going to allow you to leave this establishment with this child unless you can offer me a reasonable explanation for why he comes here with bruises every single week, and that is final.”

A lie of course, he wasn’t letting Giorno go anywhere with this pathetic excuse of a father, no matter what excuses he scrounged up.

“Well I don’t owe you shit.” he snapped back, forgoing excuses and even denial of the accusations completely. At the very least, it seemed Tonio was getting under Mr.Giovanna’s skin just as badly. “I am going to be taking my son and we are going to leave. Giorno, come here right n-” but as the man tried to move Tonio out of the way and make a grab for the boy, Tonio grabbed his arm in an ironclad grip.

The man froze, surprised either by the strength or by the audacity.

Tonio’s expression didn’t falter.

“I think it would be best for you to leave, sir.”

For a second all was calm.

And in the next, pure fury overtook the man’s face.

The punch was quick and powerful, and Tonio barely had a moment to realize what was happening before he had both hands on the booth table to support his weight with a blooming pain in his jaw. With one of his hands he hesitantly brought it up to test the area, but while it would undoubtedly bruise and was rather tender, nothing felt broken or severely damaged.

Tonio should have seen the punch coming, but alas, hindsight is 20/20. He partially expected a second blow…. but it never came.

In fact, Mr.Giovanna was being awfully quiet.

His grin which had temporarily been chased from his face found itself sliding back into place once more.

It seemed the man finally noticed. Now that their conversation had reached a small pausing point, it was likely that much more obvious, but Tonio still couldn’t help but internally chuckle at the man’s horrendous observation skills.

It was dead silent in the restaurant.

The clicking of silverware, the murmur of conversation, the footsteps of the waitstaff, all of it had vanished into thin air.

And as Tonio stood back up to his full height, one merely needed to glance around the room to see why.

Every single customer and staff member was staring at them.

And not one was happy.

Expressions ranged from murderous fury to offended disgust to cold disapproval. Weapons of all types were in hand: knives, firearms, utensils, even a few Stands had joined the fray.

Sometimes being neutral felt like a curse, but in this moment? In this moment Tonio had never felt freer.

Because everyone respected the rules inside Trattoria Trussardi.

And those who didn’t……

“You’ve broken the rules, Mr.Giovanna.” Tonio spoke, a grin still on his face. Only now he let the pleasantries fade away. Now, he let his grin stretch wide and manic, filled with teeth and not quite reaching his eyes.

To an outsider, it was downright predatory.

And Mr.Giovanna, finally realizing the lion’s den he had stumbled headfirst into, froze.

But Tonio did not care.

Not one bit.

He nudged the man to the side with the back of his hand, and didn’t even resist the urge to wipe it on his apron afterwards. He’d need to wash his hands later, wouldn’t want the food suffering from whatever filth that man possessed.

“Giorno,” he asked quietly, his body relaxing and growing soft at the bright, vibrant hope sparkling in the boy’s eyes. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

Giorno’s eyes widened, growing glossy and shiny yet not a single tear spilt.

“I would.” he said in a hushed whisper, as though the words would break if he was too rough with them, and in Tonio’s heart the only regret he felt was that he hadn’t done this sooner.

He gently grabbed Giorno’s hand to tug him away from the booth seat with as much gentleness as he could, leading him toward the back door that led to the stairs up to his apartment. Giorno’s hand was so small, yet it clung to Tonio’s like a lifeline.

He would call Doppio later tonight to help with the paperwork, of course after Giorno had eaten and gone to sleep. He had more than enough spare funds for the shopping trip that would be required tomorrow, but it would also likely be best to ask if there was anything Giorno wanted from his now-ex-parents house. He’d likely have to rearrange some furniture upstairs, Giorno would need his own room obviously, maybe cash in a favor or two to help, and of course possibly transferring schools which meant even more paperwork-

But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he got to look forward to a nice, calm dinner that for the first time since inviting Doppio in wouldn’t be alone.

And just as he nudged Giorno through the door…

“Marco.”

“Yeah Boss?”

Tonio liked Marco. A good head on his shoulders, a competent host and waiter, had potential for a manager position, always called in ahead of time if gang work interfered with his schedule, and on the rare occasion things got out of hand he was good at regaining order.

“I’m temporarily waiving the ‘no violence’ rule.” Tonio said. “Make sure nobody breaks anything important and if things get too noisy, see to it that it’s moved elsewhere.”

Marco’s eyes lit up with an emotion he didn’t dare to place, but his face remained stoic. “‘Course, Boss.”

Tonio looked back to the restaurant, his eyes soft and smile warm in a way that did not match the manic and horrifying implication of his words in the slightest.

“You have 30 minutes. Try to keep the mess to a minimum.”

The future looked bright and Tonio felt happy.

#G O D this was so fun to write. this au is so much fun sometimes <333 #neutral ground #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #golden wind #jjba part 5 #jjba tonio #tonio trussardi #jjba giorno #giorno giovanna #sb writes

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roguishcat · 8 months ago

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Conversations with a vampire - part 6/10

Story summary: A story told through a series of conversations between Astarion and child Tav, tracing the slow and steady progress of trust and friendship.

Chapter warnings: underage drinking, mentions of attempted sexual assault, self-blame, some canon compliant violence.

Chapter summary: Astarion's typical night is disrupted rather unexpectedly by Tav as she tries to deal with trauma in an unhealthy way.

Setting: Set before the events of the game.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N If you want to be on the tag list for this story or any others, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment.

The Flophouse was especially rowdy on this fine, warm night, if he said so himself. Patrons singing lewd songs and shouting, toasting whoever was paying for their drinks with much enthusiasm. The bar was already surrounded by a sea of drunks clamoring for attention as the bartender poured frothy ale expertly, maneuvering swiftly and swatting hands out of her way. The dim light of flickering candles and oil lamps, the distinctive odors of stale drink and greasy food, the tang of sweat, created an unmistakable atmosphere. It would be overwhelming to many, but not to him. These were his hunting grounds, and Astarion was more than familiar with the ebb and flow of bodies, the hushed conversations between the less-than-reputable types, the loud cheers and enthusiastic shouts of older men regaling their friends with stories from their youth.

Astarion quickly scanned the crowd, clocking in on a nervous tiefling clutching her friend’s elbow like a lifeline. She would do nicely.

“Hey everyone! Drink up! All drinks on me!”

He snapped his head to the side, in the direction of that unmistakable, annoying voice. And indeed, it was Tav at the bar, waving her arms over her head, drinking, and making a spectacle of herself. She looked like it wasn’t the first drink of the evening either, judging by the flush of her face and the slight wobble to her stance. Astarion knew that spawn could not realistically get headaches, but he was sure he could feel one coming on when he saw who was throwing the gold around and attracting too much attention to herself. He moved in her direction slowly but deliberately, dodging elbows and clammy hands.

“Astarion! Hey, it’s my friend!” she squealed in delight, almost falling in her haste to move towards him.

He steadied Tav, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Sorry everyone, this one is finished for the night.”

Ignoring the patrons’ protests and drunken threats, he half-coaxed half-dragged her out of the tavern. She didn’t put up too much of a fight, still clutching the bottle in her other hand as she followed him.

Pushing the door open, Astarion marched out into the back alley with Tav in tow, the girl stumbling gracelessly over the threshold.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” he hissed, putting his hands on his hips in a gesture somehow reminiscent of one made by a disappointed mother.

“Really? I don’t see you in a year and the first thing you do is scold me?” she giggled, taking another swig from the bottle. “Yuck, this is disgusting. Why do people even drink something so horrid? And damn, it’s chilly out here. Or maybe the room was just too hot?” She laughed between gulps.

If she found herself to be terribly amusing, he did not share the sentiment. Nor did he like to be stuck nannying her.

“Argh, sit down. You are cut off,” he grabbed the bottle and poured the wine out before she could grab it from him. “Wouldn’t want you to become a drunk, would we?”

“And why not? I’m already a little shit, a bitch, a bastard child. I think a drunk tops that list rather nicely! And anyway, don’t be such a grouch, I’m celebrating!” she plonked down beside an empty, overturned barrel, propping herself up against the wall.

“And what would that be?” Astarion sighed.

“Why, three nights ago I killed a man.”

She giggled again, but this time it sounded forced and a little manic.

Astarion waited for her to settle down before speaking. “I think I need a little more information than that.”

Tav exhaled with a kind of strangled, pained sound and seemed to visibly deflate after he spoke. She looked up at the starry sky, looking very pale in the moonlight. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the slight shaking of her fingers, goosebumps spread over her exposed arms. Her hair was cut off, uneven, as if someone hacked at it mindlessly. Come to think of it, this was the first time that Tav was not perfectly dressed and groomed. She was wearing a white sleeveless shirt, plain navy trousers and simple leather shoes rather than her usual finery. No wonder she did not stand out at the tavern.

“He is- was a regular at Sharess’ Caress. I saw him around before, sometimes outside in the street. I usually try to stay out of the way during the day, but occasionally I have to leave my room. I bumped into him once accidentally as I was leaving, apologized, and walked away. Since then, his eyes always followed me. He asked about me, was told that I don’t work there and that I am too young anyway.”

She paused, pulling her legs closer to her body, and resting her head on her knees. “I know it’s my fault. I could have asked a servant to bring me something, but I guess I just had to be independent, had to show I can do things for myself.”

She stopped for a moment and took a shuddering breath. “He followed me into the cellar. I just wanted to get something to eat without making anyone fuss. I mean, I am old enough to do some things for myself. And I- I didn’t hear him walking in behind me. The man swayed a little, as if he was drunk when he shut the door behind him. He didn’t smell drunk, though. Oh, no. When he pushed me against the shelves and tried to force my knees apart with his hand, his other hand squeezing my throat, he was very much sober.”

Tav licked her cracked lips and hugged herself. Astarion felt a little sick listening to her because he could guess where this was going. He was not sure if he wanted her to continue, but perhaps it was good for Tav to say this out loud. So, he pulled himself together and resolved to listen to what Tav had to say. If anything, this was his way of repaying her for standing up for him against the other spawn.

“I crashed into the boxes to my right,” she went on, “he loosened his grip. I- I saw a knife sticking out of the block of cheese and lunged for it. He pushed me down and tried to grab me again, but I kicked him in the face. I don’t think he expected this much resistance, wasn’t used to anyone struggling against him.”

“And then I was on top of him and I stabbed him, over, and over again,” her eyes were wide and she was breathing hard, looking forward but at nothing in particular. “I could hear someone screaming, didn’t realise that it was me. People came running, I was pulled away from the body. Someone forced the knife out of my hand. Then I screamed more and more, and I struggled and kicked. They made me drink something and then there was nothing.”

Her breathing was still labored, her short nails dug into her skin leaving crescent marks.

“When I woke up, I was back in my room. Breakfast and newspaper waiting at my bedside table. As if nothing had happened. If you are interested, the headline that day was ‘A wealthy merchant’s body found in the river mauled by an animal.’”

Astarion looked at Tav. She seemed so young, so fragile. It was difficult to believe that in a fight-of-flight scenario she chose fight. Who would have thought that Tav, the sweet, annoying, silly child that she was, was capable of defending herself against a much older and stronger assailant?

“There it is. I killed and got away with it. No consequences. No regrets. Because truth be told, if I could go back, I would have done exactly the same,” she said fiercely.

Astarion knew that she did what she had to do. She did what anyone with any sense would do. Yet, judging by the hollow, haunted look in her eyes, in spite of what she said, Tav did not look like a person who was certain that they had made the right decision.

Tav shook her head, as if trying chase away the lingering mental images. Astarion looked at her hair. The beautiful blonde hair that was ruined now.

“Ah, that’s my handywork,” she ran her fingers through the disaster that once were beautiful locks. “I am done with them dolling me up every day. No hair, no playing dress up, no reason for them to come into my room,” she said harshly.

“Well,” Astarion paused, choosing his next words carefully, “whilst this style is definitely a statement, I could neaten it up a little. Make it less obvious that you are not cut out for a career in hairdressing.”

“Okay,” she breathed out, “the scissors are in my bag. I kinda grabbed them and just shoved them in there before heading out.”

“Hoarder,” he joked weakly, taking the scissors out.

Astarion worked silently, being careful not to touch her any more than was required. It was quite surprising that she allowed him to do this at all. Then again, according to Tav they were friends.

“I am never having sex, or getting married,” Tav said suddenly.

“I thought you were going to marry me. Tsk, so much for you keeping your promises.” He joked halfheartedly, but purposefully ignored the first part of what she said. There was no way he was discussing the birds and the bees with anyone.

Tav scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I dreamed of it when I was like twelve. I’m older now. And definitely not so naïve.”

She looked at him from underneath her long, light lashes. Astarion glowed under the moonlight, an ethereal being, beautiful and untouchable, unmarked by change and time. He was handsome, complicated and dangerous.

She didn’t want dangerous. She wanted simple and safe.

She must have said it out loud because he laughed, a sort of barking humorless laugh.

“My dear child, I promise you will find the silliest, richest oaf to marry. He will allow you everything, hang onto your every word, and count his lucky stars that you chose him.”

Astarion looked over his work. It looked much better than before, a kind of boyish pixie cut, which suited Tav, with her high cheekbones and large blue eyes. Her face was looking less and less childlike each time he saw her. It made him feel a little melancholy, seeing the inevitable changes and knowing that more were to come.

“There we go, looking almost sophisticated,” Astarion handed her a pretty mirror lined with sparkly stones that he discovered in her bag as he rummaged about earlier.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, giving her reflection a quick glance before putting the mirror away. “I still look like crap, but have to admit, my hair looks good.”

“But of course, what else did you expect?” he scoffed. “My own hair is always impeccably styled.”

“That it is. Always just so. Really eye-catching,” she gave him a ghost of a smile.

Astarion sat down, folding his long legs under him. The two listened to the dissonance of sounds coming from the tavern, mixing with the noise coming from the streets. Life went on, their personal tragedies and struggles so unimportant, almost nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“Astarion, why do they do this to us?” Tav spoke softly, picking at the loose skin near one of her nails. She didn’t have to explicitly state who she was talking about. Astarion knew well enough who she was referring to.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “They have power, and we don’t. And those with power can do whatever the hell they want. You will do well to remember that.”

“I suppose you are right,” she scrunched her nose and scowled. “But it isn’t fair.”

“You silly thing, if this world was built on the shaky foundation of what is fair or not, it would have crumbled long ago. It is idiotic to think otherwise. Life is about seizing control and taking what you are owed by force. By rising so high that no one can reach you.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, “but sometimes, when I am feeling particularly low, I wonder… Just wonder if my life would be different if they finally decided that I was useless enough that they could just toss me out. They, whoever they are, clearly don’t give a rat’s ass about me. So, maybe, just maybe… they will let me go.”

Astarion sincerely doubted that. He knew full well what it was like to be a plaything in fate’s hands. Masters did not just give up their slaves or toys. If they did not serve one purpose, there would always be another. But perhaps on some level Tav knew this too.

Astarion did not particularly enjoy this conversation, did not like the direction that his own thoughts could take, but he was somewhat grateful that at least she did not cry. He hated when someone cried around him. He did not have any emotional or mental capacity to deal with such displays.

“I hate it. I hate this ugly bitterness I feel. I worked so hard not to give in, not to accept the darkness that keeps calling to me. But it just keeps getting harder and harder,” Tav rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and yawned.

“Tsk, again with your cryptic remarks,” he clicked his tongue. “But if you must think of this at all, think of it as growing up, losing your naivete. But, unlike many, you haven’t lost your kind heart. That you should try to preserve. Gods know no one showed me any kindness before you came along with that healing potion.”

Astarion was not sure what compelled him to say this. Perhaps it was her honesty, the raw emotions. In a way, the similarity of their situations. Them not having any control over their lives, being tethered to places where they were neglected and abused. Yet, he almost immediately regretted saying the words. Luckily, Tav was asleep, having given in to her exhaustion. He was not even sure that she heard what he said. It didn’t matter though.

Astarion took an embroidered handkerchief out of his pocket, slipping it into her brocade bag. Rising, he lifted her up and held the lanky teen close to his chest.

Had she been so thin before? He wasn’t sure, didn’t really notice until now.

Time to take her home. Or at least the only place she could call home.

Chapter 5

Tag list: @ninty900 @ayselluna @dajeong @ravenswritingroom @misscrissfemmefatale

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion tav fanfiction #bg3 tav #astarion fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate fanfiction #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #neil newbon #ao3 fanfic #spawn astarion #vampire spawn

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dbnightingale24 · 1 year ago

Text

Love Me or Just Let Me Go

A Jonathan Crane Love Story

Look who's back and trying to find her footing again 🙃 sorry for the delay, but between my mental health and personal life, things weren't going well and I needed a break. ANYWAY, I'm back with a new series (as well as ready off a few others), and I hope you all enjoy it! I really missed posting.

Just in time for Halloween, Dr. Jonathan Crane. I just figured (as I start to branch out) it's time to write about my favorite Scarecrow. I'm sorry this is so damn long (I really am), but I hope you all enjoy it! Since Tumblr is still on its bullshit, I can only post part of it here, but the full post will be on AO3 (I'll leave the link). As always, thank you @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard. I love you!

Word Count: 56,703 (I said I was sorry)

Warnings: SMUT (Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Degrading Kink, Car Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Arguing, Family Drama, Angst, Mentions of Abuse, Fluff (ish), Childhood Trauma, Self Hate, Revenge, Loneliness, Trust Issues, Mental Health (or lack thereof)...I think I handled everything?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Man, You Make It Easy For Me. So, Why Can't I Make You Love Me?

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“Doctor Crane,” you smile sweetly as your favorite patron makes his way to the counter.

Your smile may be sweet, but you know your eyes show the same thing they always do whenever he shows up: pure desire and lust. The coy smile he always returns lets you know that he’s very well aware of the effect he has on you.

Effect.

“Same as always?”

“Coffee, black, please,” he smiles as he pulls out his wallet.

“New admittance at Arkham?” you ask, turning and starting on his second usual

At least three times a month, he orders a black coffee.

“No, but it is late night for work.”

“When isn’t it in Gotham?” you scoff, placing the lid on his drink.

“How about you?” he asks, handing you a twenty.

“What about me?”

“Another late night?”

“I’m the only one brave enough to close the store, so yeah. I always have a late night,” you laugh softly, taking his money while typing the amount into the register.

“Gotham doesn’t scare you?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve met my Mother already, and I witnessed what drove her to madness, because I saw my Father’s death, so no. Gotham doesn’t scare me.”

“Your Mother...” he trails off as he looks you over, “Y/M/N?”

“I’m surprised you’re just figuring it out,” you laugh handing him back his change. “Everyone always said I look just like her, but I’m guessing the piercings, dyed hair, and tattoos have changed my appearance a bit.”

“Your Mother is quite the character.”

“You’re putting it nicely.”

“Keep it,” he says, gently pushing your hand back.

“The coffee was only two dollars.”

“Your company is always worth much more than that,” he laughs. “If you don’t mind me asking, how were you able to handle it so well?”

“If I tell you that, there will be no reason for you to come around for your afternoon tea, will there? Besides, you’ve got a late night of work ahead of you, and I’ve got ungrateful customers to tend to,” you smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

“Guess I’ll just have to ask again tomorrow.”

“Play your cards right and you may just get an answer,” you shrug and he laughs.

“You have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Dr. Crane.”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan Crane,” you smile as he grabs his coffee, nods, and walks away.

And just like that, he was gone. It’s the same conversation every day, today a little more telling just because he knows a bit (or a lot depending on how you look at it) about you. It’s always the same amount of small talk, flirty eye on your part, and him looking as if he’s interested but knows better. Smart on his part.

Sure, he deals with crazies, but he’s never dealt with you.

For the rest of the evening, you live in the feeling of that little exchange. Yeah, the man looks like he can’t carry a bookcase, but you know it’s all an act. You’re not dumb. You’ve heard whispers about Dr. Jonathan Crane, and most of it isn’t pleasant. It’s most definitely in your best interest to stay away, especially considering that your Mother is a patience at his place of work, but you can’t stop yourself. Beside, you live in Gotham.

It’s not like you have a ton of “good guys” to choose from.

You can’t pin down exactly what draws you to him, but you know that you can’t turn it off. You’ve tried multiple times. From the first time you laid eyes on him, you wanted him. No, you needed him, in the most unnatural way. Maybe it’s from living in Gotham all your life but, for whatever reason, you feel a sense of security when he comes in.

Yeah, you’ve definitely been in Gotham for too long.

“You’re sure you’re okay to close up all by yourself?” your co-worker Michael asks as he grabs his backpack off of the coat rack, while the last customer scurries out.

“I do it every night, Mike,” you scoff, wiping down the counter. “Get home safe.”

“Ya know, working with you is hard,” he sighs and you start laughing. “What?! It’s true! You’re the only one ever willing to close up shop-”

“It gives me a thrill,” you smirk with a cocked eyebrow. “Go home and tell Josh that you fought off a mugger, if it’ll help your ego.”

“He’d kill me if I ever tried to stop crime from happening,” he laughs softly. “You sure you’re okay, babe?”

“I promise. Get home safe.”

“You too,” he nods before walking out.

You lean against the counter, pull out your phone, and scroll through all the evening news you’ve missed.

Another raping, another stabbing, another kidnapping....it’s all just another day in Gotham. You don’t even bother to look up when you hear the front door open and close.

“If you want coffee, you’ve come to the right place. If you want anything else, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong damn shop,” you mumble as an article about Arkham Asylum catches your eye.

You may not see your Mother often, but that doesn’t mean you don’t care about her.

“How about a cup of tea?” a familiar voice asks.

You look up to see Dr. Jonathan Crane standing at the counter, small smile tugging on his lips, but his hair is out of place.

“Rough night, Doc?” you question, pushing yourself up with your foot, making your way over to the kettle and setting it up.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your hair is out of place and there’s a bit of blood on your glasses, and the lapel of your shirt.”

“You’re more observant than I thought.”

“You’ve thought about me?” you tease, pulling out his his favorite tea powder.

Ginseng.

“More than you think.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re a mystery.”

“I’m sure you’ve met far more interesting subjects than me. You’ve already met my Mother.”

“While she is very much a fun case to study, now that I know she’s your Mother, you’re much more...complex.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” you laugh, finishing up his drink before pouring it in a to-go cup. “That’s the nicest way I’ve ever been called insane.”

“Far from insane, Y/N. Very far. More like-”

“Troubled?” “Not that either...a to-go cup?”

“You’ve never been one to sit and stay since you started working at the Asylum.”

“A good point. What else do you know about me?”

“Nothing.”

“What else have you heard about me?”

“Things I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about,” you promise, looking him over as you lean against the counter. “No charge. You get home safe.”

“You see blood on my glasses and my shirt, but tell me to get home safe?”

“Who am I to judge?”

“You know, this day has been very telling about you but, at the same time, I feel like I know you less than I did before.”

“If I’m not keepin’ ya guessing, what’s the point of our lovely little chats?”

“Who says that I need these little moments to keep me interested?”

“Show me that you don’t.”

“Have a drink with me and I will,” he smiles coyly, mischief in his eyes.

Every red alarm in your brain goes off, but you’ve never bothered to listen to them before, so why start now?

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and slowly made your way from around the counter, ignoring the the sirens as they grow louder and louder, and sit across from him at the small table.

“Jonathan,” you smile, mischief dancing around in your own eyes as you take a sip of your coffee. “Take your best shot.”

“What do you fear?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow and you scoff. “What?”

“What do you think I fear?”

“I can’t get a read on you.” “That’s fair, I guess,” you shrug, swirling the coffee in your cup around a bit. “I’ll tell you what I fear if you tell me something about you. I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t try it,” you proposition, meeting his gaze with a devilish glint in your eye.

You really shouldn’t be playing this game.

An evil smirk spreads across his face before he responds with, “I’m the one who created the fear toxin.”

‘Will you stop fucking playing this game?! Tell him you need to get home!’ your brain begs, but you’re just starting to have fun.

You’ve never been good at doing what’s in your best interest.

“That tracks,” you shrug before taking a sip of your coffee.

“It tracks?”

“You work at the Asylum, no one in this city really has a good and clean record-”

“Oh? What’s on your record?”

“I put laxatives in drinks of customers who piss me off,” you tell him nonchalantly and laugh and when he practically chokes on his tea. “What? I don’t seem capable?”

“For some reason, I thought it would be something along the lines of murder.”

“No, I’m afraid the only thing I’ve ever really broken is hearts.”

“Why’s that?”

“I learned very early in life to never get too attached to anyone in Gotham. Never works out well for me.”

“Your parents?”

“Parents, first real love, last serious relationship. I fuck until I’m bored and then I leave.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but you can’t tell what it is. It’s not disdain or disappointment, but more along the lines of...shock? Confusion.

“So, you have fear of abandonment?” he asks as your timer goes off.

“Well, it’s time for me to close up shop, Dr. Crane,” you smile, getting up making your way back behind the counter with your half full cup of coffee.

“I didn’t take you as someone who’s a liar,” he comments and you don’t miss the irritation in his tone.

“I never said I wouldn’t tell you, I said it’s time for me to close up shop. However, I do like having this effect on you.”

“And what effect is that?”

“Rattling your cage.”

“Oh, you do much more than that, and I think you’ve known that for quite some time.”

“Oh, but Doctor Crane, this is the first time you’ve ever had the balls to court me,” you smirk over your shoulder and he laughs.

“How long does it usually take you to close up shop?”

“As long as I want it to. Why do you ask?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I figured we could...take a walk around the city.”

“You’re a very confident man, Dr. Crane.”

“No one’s gonna touch me out there.”

“And what on earth would we talk about on this little walk?”

“You.”

“Your obsession with me is cute. I like it a lot.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s an obsession, more like...fascination.”

“And what’s so fascinating about little old me?” you ask, covering the tops of all the different syrups.

“Like I said,” he responds softly right behind you, causing you to jump, “because you’re a mystery.”

Oh, you’re fucking in it now.

You can read the full story here

tags: @autumnrose40

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x oc #scarecrow x y/n #jonathan crane x y/n #Scarecrow Dc

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stillsaltyaboutmcr · 2 years ago

Text

If only you had stayed- J.S and B.B

Hi guys! I had a cute little idea and wanted to try to write it. This will only be one part so it’ll be a LONG one. Sorry not sorry.

You met Jake the summer he got into Top Gun. It was a whirlwind romance that ended as quickly as it begun. You didn’t think anything of it until two pink lines appeared and he was suddenly hard to contact. Now, 7 years have gone by and you’re blessed with a little girl that unfortunately reminds you too much of her dad. Somewhere in those seven years, you met Bradley who stepped in to help without a word. Now you’re engaged and happy living your life as a family, until Brad gets a call that relocates you all to where it began.

Warnings: Cussing, pregnancy and childbirth, inaccurate storyline of Peggy and the Hard Deck, some minor sexual content

It was hot as the summer sun came into the Hard Deck that afternoon as you prepped to serve the new incoming pilots. Penny had informed you that a new group of young and dumb Top Gun students came in today and that it was going to be a full house. You had come in early that day to stock the bar and make sure everything was in working order and clean. You didn’t wanna get caught with your pants down on a night as busy as this.

Throughout the evening, men and women in uniforms piled in and out, shuffling in new faces constantly. Drink after drink, flirt after flirt, you were ready to go home. You were used to this kind of behavior since you began going to college out here, but tonight’s patrons were a different breed. They made you regret wearing your favorite top to your shift today.

One in particular stood out to you though. You didn’t know if it was his cocky ego or the way he actually left you alone when you spoke up. He had sauntered into the bar with that staple Top Gun wannabe smirk. He came up to the bar and leaned on it, smiling at you when you asked him what he wanted to drink. He took a minute as his posture shifted, and as you were about to go serve someone who knew what to order he spoke up.

“I’ll take you if you’re on the menu.”

“Very funny, as if I haven’t heard that one before.” You went to ring the bell for what you swore was the 35th time tonight when he spoke up again.

“I’m sorry, can I just get a Modelo? That went worse than I was expecting.” You paused as your hand came into contact with the rope. You looked him over as you contemplated how to move next. He sighed as you let go and reached into the cooler behind the bar. You cracked the top off as slid it to him as you walked off without another word. You had spared him.

He kept appearing throughout the night saying things like “I know you’re not on the menu.” or “Modelo please?” almost like he was afraid of you. The worst part? You liked it.

Most of these pilots either didn’t care or thought you were stuck up, but this one? He was scared of you and your bell. It was amusing to you. “What’s your name?” You finally asked him when he came up to close his tab.

“Jake, Jake Seresin.”

“Well Seresin, I wish you good luck.” You walked off as you handed him his receipt. Fate was in your favor that day when he decided to flip it over to leave his number to see yours already etched on there with a note.

‘My next day off is Tuesday. Dinner at 5?’

Jake’s felt butterflies in his chest as he read that. He put the number in his phone then took the pen to reply.

‘Deal, I’ll pick you up at 4:30.’

He walked out feeling like a million bucks. He had scored a gorgeous girl that liked him despite his really shitty pickup line.

Tuesday came around and you had been texting about it since the night of his entrance. He did as he said and pulled in your driveway at 4:30 with flowers in hand. You were impressed to say the least.

Your summer consisted of little rendezvous and dinner dates. From beach picnics to mini golf, you guys did it all. But, all those dates didn’t come alone, there were plenty of hookups mixed in there amongst it all. You and Jake were having a summer fling that you had only seen in movies.

You attended his graduation from Top Gun and congratulated him properly when he won the title himself. After that, he disappeared into thin air. No replies, couldn’t find him on any social media. It’s like he never existed.

Your life went on as your final year at college approached in the fall, but you had noticed some changes to yourself. Some weight gain, no period for the month of august, and more. It worried you for a multitude of reasons, so you had Penny get you a test.

Standing in the bathroom at the Hard Deck after close with Penny, anxiously awaiting to see what would happen, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jake. With no contact and a possible child, what were you gonna do?

Penny broke you from your thoughts when she turned the test over and there it was. Two pink lines.

You caught the Seresin parasite.

The next nine months were mostly you and Penny making the most of your situation. She took it way easy on you when it came to work and she actually took you in to live with her and her daughter.

The childbirth wasn’t easy, but you told Penny you wanted her there since your parents hadn’t talked to you in years. She was a great support for you, and you couldn’t have done it without her.

But that was 7 years ago.

Now you lived with your beautiful daughter, Leanna and fiancé, Bradley in Pensacola, Florida. You had met Bradley when Leanna was 3 when he came through Top Gun. You were weary of his kindness and sincerity when he came to the bar after what happened the last time you put yourself out there. Bradley pursued and proved to you he was different. Leanna grew to adore him and Bradley fit in perfectly to your little family. After 4 years together, you had moved from San Diego to Pensacola and gotten engaged. Everything was working in your favor.

Wedding plans were active and ongoing and you had secured a work from home job coding medical records for the sick call on base. Your daughter was beautiful and doing well in school and life seemed to be perfect. The only issue being the constant reminder of the little blonde haired girl you called yours.

Her arrogance and smooth talking when trying to get herself out of trouble only reminded you daily of her dad. The way she grew into her facial features that resembled Jake so closely and the way her eyes lit up when Bradley spoke about flying only saddened you. It shouldn’t have considering the wonderful life you have, but you felt horrible that she has no idea who her father is. You had lied to her all these years and told her that while Bradley isn’t her biological dad, he will be her paternal figure.

You were busy making dinner when Bradley walked in the door on the phone with Leanna in hand from school. It was career day at her school and Bradley quickly jumped at the chance to take a day off work and spend time with her.

“Yes I know sir, but what about my house here? Will they keep this on hold or is this a permanent relocation?”

Your ears perked up. Relocation?

“Really? You should’ve started with that. I understand, we will pack and be on our way. I will send my information for you to book our flights and plan our stay. Thank you for the opportunity sir.”

Bradley hung up as he entered the kitchen, “What was that all about?” You turned from the stove to face him as Leanna ran up to give you her daily after school hug.

“We’re going to San Diego. I’ve been asked to participate in a top secret mission there at Top Gun.”

“Wait- what? We?” You couldn’t go back there, not with the risk of seeing Jake again. You couldn’t afford it.

“We leave in a couple of days so I’m off work so we can pack what we need for while we’re there. The military is giving us a house to stay in for the time being but we’ll have this one to come back to when we’re done.”

“We?” You were still reveling in the fact that Jake might be there. Bradley’s words started to fade out as the panic set in. You couldn’t see him, not now! What if he saw Leanna? What if he wanted you back after seeing his mistake of leaving his daughter behind? What if you wanted him back despite having the perfect father and husband right in front of you?

“Hey? Baby?” Bradley was now right in front of you, hands on your arms and a concerning look on his face.

“Sorry, it’s just been so long since I’ve been out there. What about Leanna? Her schoolwork?”

“I’ve already spoken to her teacher when I got the email this morning about the assignment. They said they will email us all the homework and lesson plans so we can homeschool her while we’re away. It’s gonna be okay love.” Bradley placed a kiss on your forehead before stepping around you and taking over your cooking.

“Mom! Can you help me with a school project? I would ask Brad but he isn’t very crafty.” She giggled as Bradley shouted a ‘hey!’ from behind you.

“Sure, what’s it about?”

You sat at the table helping her put together a poster board on different types of fighter jets and what they’re used for. Her teacher assigned them to give presentations on the careers of the parents they brought in today. You would’ve been hurt she didn’t choose you if you didn’t have such a boring profession. The kids her age in her class are much more interested in pilots than medical coders. How are you supposed to entertain a bunch of 7 and 8 year olds about coding rules and when to use I10 for hypertension and when to not use it when the patient also has kidney failure which makes you need to use a combo code? They would fall asleep right then and there.

Bradley’s job was exciting and dangerous, something kids that age love to hear about and dream about doing. The only downside are these assignments which move your family far away from where you’ve put down roots.

The days leading up to San Diego were long and painful for you. Planning Leanna’s bags and schoolwork along with your own and making sure the house was clean and that were no groceries that were going to spoil had you in over your head. Luckily, Bradley saw the stress and quickly jumped in to help make sure everything was in order.

Before you knew it, you and Bradley were sat right where you met, at the Hard Deck.

“It hasn’t changed a bit has it?” You looked around as Bradley was in a game of pool with a fellow pilot on the mission named Payback. Another pilot, Fanboy, was at the bar getting a round of drinks for everyone.

“No, it feels like just yesterday I was here trying to prove to you just how honest I was. You were so stubborn it made me want to pull my hair out.” You both laughed as a hand rested on your shoulder. Turning around you were met with a woman around your height, in uniform like everyone else.

“You must be the future Mrs. Rooster. I’m Phoenix or Natasha, whatever you feel like calling me.” You we’re honestly relived to not be the only female in this group of testosterone.

“I’m Y/N, and yes! The wedding is in a couple of months. I’m really happy there’s another girl here, it was feeling too egotistical in here for me.” She laughed at you as Fanboy returned with the drinks. You grabbed one of the pool table along with everyone else.

The night was going great as more pilots came in and you put more faces to names. Bob was your favorite so far, he was sweet and different from the other pilots in the room. It was a pissing contest for the rest of them, even Phoenix hopped in a few times. Games of darts and pool kept the boys busy while you sat by Bob, just watching. All of the sudden, they all turned towards the door as two more pilots walked in, hoops and hollers coming from the crowd. You caught Bradley’s eye, but not long enough to sense his warning. You turned your head to the door to see two tall men, one darker skinned wearing a nameplate that read ‘Coyote’ and the other-no.

The other was who you feared would be here. You had to leave before Jake saw you. You apologetically looked at Bradley before dissapearing out the backdoor and joining Penny and Leanna, urging her that you had to go home.

“But mom! Just a little bit longer?” Leanna was pleading with you, earning sympathic looks from Penny. After some more convincing she finally agreed. “I just have to use the bathroom, Aunt Penny, can I use the one in there?”

“Sure honey, I’ll take you in. Just be quick.” Penny took your daughter in and you prayed Penny would stay out of Jake’s eyeline.

—-

Jake was enjoying a game of darts where he was winning against Coyote. He had been throwing jabs at Bradley all night, but bickering was their thing. After throwing the final dart and winning the third round of darts in a row, Jake excused himself.

He headed to the back of the bar to use the restroom and stood waiting for it to open up. He was about to say ‘fuck it’ and pee outside when the women’s door opened to reveal a little girl with eerily similar features to him. She smiled at him and said hello. “Hey. I don’t think you’re allowed in here. Where’s your mom?” He crouched down to her, not seeing an adult follow her out and come running to take her.

Little did he know, Penny was right around the corner talking to a regular, faced away from what was happening. “She’s right outside on the patio.”

“Why don’t I take you to her so you don’t get in trouble huh?”

“Okay!”

“Lead the way little one.” Jake took her hand as they walked through the bar together out to the back patio where she was leading him. As they got closer, he saw the familiar figure of a woman he once loved and the pieces clicked a bit too quickly for him to handle. He paused, making Leanna’s arm pull.

“Hey! Come on!” He was too busy staring at the back of her silhouette to hear Leanna’s complaints.

“Leanna! What are you doing?” Bradley’s voice is what snapped him out of his trance when he came running up to scoop her up in his arms and shoot Jake a look that would kill him if it could.

“Is she yours?” Jake almost seemed sad if it were true.

“Yes, what are you doing with my daughter?”

“Brad? I’m not your daughter! You just adopted me when you decided to marry my mom!” She was laughing at his statement, almost mocking him.

“She was in the back by the bathrooms when I found her. She told me her mom was outside so I was going to take her so she didn’t get hurt.” Jake’s voice was calmer than normal, almost solemn.

“Thank you, but please never do that again Jake. As much as I respect you, I don’t like anyone touching my kid.”

“Brad!”

“Leanna enough!” Her face showed shock, she had never heard Bradley raise his voice, so she buried her face in his neck and started weeping which cause Bradley to regret his temper. “If you excuse me, I have to take her and her mom home. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He burst out the back doors with the crying girl in his arms. Jake watched as he talked to the woman he thought was someone he knew, and his suspicion was confirmed when you turned around and Jake caught a clear view of your face. He felt hurt at your panicked expression from whatever Bradley was telling you.

He had a daughter, and he was foolish enough to let you and her go.

—

You were dropping Bradley off at work before taking the day to run errands and get the house in order when you spotted Natasha. “Hey! Good to see you again Mrs. Rooster. I’m excited to get this one in the sky- I’m sorry who’s this?” She knelt down to Leanna, who was hand in hand with you.

“This is my daughter Leanna.” Before anymore conversation, Bradley gave you a kiss and ran off to the rest of the group.

“Hey girl, I’m Tasha. I’m a friend of your dad’s.” Leanna waved at her lazily, not quite awake enough this early in the morning. She tugged your hand, signaling she wanted up, so you boosted her onto your back in a piggyback style. She was far too big to hold on your bio anymore, she’s grown so much.

“Sorry, she’s not a morning person.” You laughed a little at the fact she’s now fast asleep on your shoulder.

“It’s alright. She’s got time to become one. Is she Bradley’s? Sorry for asking, I just-“

“She isn’t. I know you’re probably wondering why she doesn’t look like him. She’s from a previous relationship but Bradley is more a father to her than her bio dad. We’re really happy we met him.” You smiled in the distance at him, watching him as he called Natasha over.

“That’s my cue. Good to see you!” She ran off and they all disappeared into the building. You turned around to go back to your car when you almost ran into someone.

You started vomiting apologies when you saw none other than Seresin himself. “Oh-“

“Hey. Long time no see.” Although he was talking to you, his eyes were on your daughter. You had to get out of there.

“Sorry again.” You muttered it and tried to go around him, but he grabbed your arm and turned you back to him.

“Is she mine?” Your eyes widened at the boldness of his question.

“Jake-“

“Please. Is she mine?”

You set Leanna in the car before continuing your conversation. “It’s none of your business Jake.”

“If she’s mine, then it is my business. Please.” He was pleading with you, practically tearing up.

“She is. Can I leave now?” Jake’s eyes were fixated on the car door you put Leanna in.

“I’m sorry.” He looked at you now, and you had forgotten how bright his eyes were. “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” Your breath hitched at his comment. You didn’t know how to respond.

“Jake you were the one that left. I was left alone to raise her until Bradley showed up.”

“You’re engaged?” He looked like he was going to cry.

“Yes, happily. Please leave so I can go home.” Your arms were crossed in front of you, as if a guard.

He stepped closer to you, studying your face as if he’d never see it again. “I want to talk to her.”

“She’s asleep Jake.”

“When she’s not. Please. I want to meet my daughter.”

“No Jake! She is more Bradley’s daughter than yours! You were the one who left! You are no father to-“

Before you knew it, Jake had captured you and put his lips on yours. Your whole body froze, eyes wide opened at the exchange. You had to leave now before anyone saw.

“Seresin!” You pushed him off of you. “What the hell?!”

“I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry.” He walked off into the building as you watched. What were you going to do.

Bradley wasn’t home yet and Leanna was down for a nap. You had a feeling she had caught something since being here with how much she’d been drowsy.

You were starting dinner when someone knocked on your door. You went to answer it thinking Bradley forgot his keys this morning, but it was Jake at the door. You quickly tried to shut the door but he stopped you, forcing himself in the door.

“You have to leave. I will call the cops.”

Although his face was sincere, you were scared of him. “I just want to see her. Please.”

“She’s still asleep Seresin. Go home. Now.”

“What do I have to do to make up for it?”

“For what?” His eyes were red and puffy, you could tell he’d been crying since your last interaction that morning.

“For leaving you. For leaving our daughter. What do I have to do to meet her? She’s beautiful.”

You sighed. You wished this day would never come and yet here you are. Leanna could come down the stairs at any moment, or even worse, Bradley could pull in the driveway. “Jake, you can’t meet her. You missed your chance.”

“What if I want a second chance. To be in her life, to be with you?” Jake’s tears had returned to his eyes now, and your heart broke at the sight.

“You don’t get a second chance.”

“Why not?” His voice was only a whisper. “I can’t change what I did but I will make it up to you. If only you’d let me.”

You looked at him and released a breath. “If only you’d stayed.”

You reached around him to hold the door open, but he shut it once again. “What are you-?” His lips let yours once again, and this time you couldn’t resist. He hands wrapped around your waist and yours foind home at the base of his hairline on his neck. You missed this feeling. While Bradley was amazing in bed, he lacked the longing and passion Jake had always given you. He hand guided you to your couch, where you straddled him as he began reaching under your shirt. He lifted it along with your bra and began making work of your breasts. You leaned your head back at the feeling, relishing in the pleasure. His mouth on one and his finger stimulating the other. You bit your lip to keep noise to a minimum. His mouth came back to yours as you heard a door open upstairs. Leanna was awake.

“Go, now!” Jake looked hurt as you shuffled him out the door before your daughter saw him.

“Y/N please-“

“Go!” You shut the door on him as Leanna appeared on the stairs. You were too close, and engaged! How could you have let this happen?

You were in love with Bradley and being married in less the 4 months.

But the feeling you got with Jake was unmatched. Your heart was ripped in two but you couldn’t risk losing the life you live with Bradley and Leanna.

Not for anyone.

Not even for Jake Seresin.

You had to leave him in San Diego. You had to leave a piece of you with him.

—

The mission went by just fine without any further interruptions. You had told Bradley about what happened and after some serious discussion and breakdown or two from you, everything had been smoothed out and you agreed to let Jake meet his daughter.

You both invited him over for dinner, and told Leanna about who he was and why he was coming over. She was confused and a bit hurt but she understood. She was even excited to meet her real dad.

When you opened the door for Jake, he came in and gave you a hug after shaking Bradley’s hand.

“Leanna!” You called her in to the living room and you watched as Jake’s eyes lit up at her.

“Hey kid, I’m your dad.”

#jake seresin #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #bob floyd x reader #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader

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ninapi · 2 years ago

Text

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┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Sound Pillar ╝

Premise: A broken man, a shattered dream and purpose. Retirement made Tengen feel useless, a rather confident man shatters to the ground, new resolution and sense of one self blooms from it as he meets the right person at the right moment.

Word count: 4551

Warning: spoilers, the story takes place in between and after the manga’s original timeline. Just a tiny bit suggestive, because Tengen lol.

Note: This is in a way linked to my previous Giyuu story (link here if you're interested).

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Uzui Tengen won over the upper moon six.

So why did it feel like he lost?

He lost many things that day, his position as the sound pillar, his arm, even one of his beautiful eyes, but most importantly, his ego got bruised. They won, yes, but at a very high cost.

There was no other option than to retire, to leave his beloved demon corps behind.

Once again, he was forced out of his predetermined way of living, first out of his shinobi village, now the corps.

He felt empty, lost, useless.

His sense of self had been shattered once more without the promise of a brighter future.

Last time he lost his family, his house, his identity, but won his three wives, his companions, his new family, it wasn’t a bad deal. But this time, what did he win? He got one moon killed, that’s all. If it would have been Muzan this would be a different story, but it was just an upper moon, a lower one in ranks at that to make it all worse.

Wasn’t he supposed to be strong? Were his muscles all good for nothing? All his training and knowledge? Now it would all go to waste.

Lost in his own misery, Tengen found solace in alcohol. He wasn’t particularly fond of the beverage nor proud of himself for turning to the easy way out, but he needed something that could make him forget the emptiness of his heart.

Tengen was a regular patron at a family owned izakaya downtown. The old man made the best side dishes he’s tried in his life, that plus the stories of his youth as a retired demon slayer would always bring a smile to his face, he somehow felt like the father figure he never had, he was kind, experienced, wise, he always knew how to make him feel better regardless of the struggle. So, he decided it would be a good time to pay the old man a visit.

He would always sit at the counter, order a drink or two and just enjoy the evening. However, he had already been drinking that day and his appearance wasn’t as well kept as it normally is. He was still wearing a bandage over his lost eye and refused to leave his uniform behind just yet.

When he arrived, there were only a couple of customers sitting way over the back of the shop, the counter was completely empty, all for him like he liked it, though the old man wasn’t in sight. He assumed he was in the kitchen and went over to his usual stool.

A young woman came out of the back trying her best to balance three dishes at once, startling Tengen who was awfully close to the entrance door. “I’m so sorry sir. I will take your order in a second!”, scrambling over to the back table, she handed over the food delicately placed on the plates and brought over some refills for their beer.

“Excuse me for the delay, my father hurt his leg yesterday and I offered to take over his place until he recovers, I’m still trying to get the hang of this. What can I get for you?” his crestfallen expression made your stomach sink, he wasn’t pleased, he even looked upset, maybe you talked too much and he didn’t want to be bothered.

“That’s a shame, I came here just to talk with the old man. He always knows how to lift my spirits. I’ll have a beer though if you don’t mind. Maybe something to munch on as well.” his tone was softer than you expected, his voice alluring and raw, you could hear the drawl of alcohol mixed in it, but he looked pretty sober still.

“Sure! I dried out some squid it pairs perfectly with this new brew we have, let me get you some right away.” your enthusiasm and welcoming smile calmed his nerves, he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to talk with his old friend, but this wasn’t half bad, you did take after him, he could see the resemblance.

He knew he had a daughter, but this was the first time he’s seen you. Your father married a younger woman right after retiring from the corps, Tengen met your mother once and he remembers teasing the old man for marrying such a hottie, he had it in him, he was still good looking for his age, muscles still present from his rigorous training and he wished to be like him when he got older. But never really expected his daughter to be around his age and this pretty, it was quite the shock.

Everything was delightful, not only the squid and the beer prototype but your company. He almost even forgot he was feeling down, you were just as chatty as your father, cheerful, knew how to make him laugh, it was an unexpected turn for the night.

“So, you are the famous Uzui-sama? I’ve heard so much about you from my father. It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you!” he suddenly feels his heart drop, he talks too much and is aware of everything he’s told your father, he knows about his three wives, he knows about his bad habits. He’s never been ashamed of having three wives, not even once in his life, until this day.

He somehow wishes he was a normal guy in his early twenties, someone with the luxury of getting to know you better.

“Have you now. All good things I hope.” he tried to mask his uneasiness with his usual sassy attitude, hoping for the best. Even if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to wish for something of the sort.

“Yes! I’ve heard of your legendary fights with scary demons and even about how handsome you were. Not everyone can have three wives after all.” your cheeky smile made him choke with his drink, he was hoping the old man hadn’t mention them, that damn sneaky geezer.

“Hmm…well it doesn’t really have anything to do with my good looks, mind you. That is the norm for Shinobi households. The head of your family chooses three women for you when you turn fifteen and you’re supposed to bring lots of heirs for the clan. I did run away before that could happen though.” this new piece of information made your eyes gleam for some reason, and he didn’t miss the relieved expression on your delicate face, even if it lasted less than a second.

“I see. So, are they more like sisters? Or are they functional wives?” there was a soft shade of pink dusting your beautiful cheeks at the implications behind the question, one of your fingers was twirling around your locks in an almost shy flirty kind of way. It was bolder than he expected, he liked how flamboyant that was.

“Sisters…huh. Never thought about it that way. I guess you can say one of them is, she’s kind of grumpy, always fights with everyone but she’s a wonderful shinobi. Then we have one that’s like a mother figure to all, she’s the one that cooks and keeps the house in order, we all respect her. And the last one is more like a pet, clingy, cute, cries a lot, gives everyone headaches.” a long sigh came out of him after he recounts his daily life. None of them sounded like the type of wife you feared the most, interesting.

Your giggles brought him back to reality, they were like music to his depressed ears, “Doesn’t sound too different from my own house. Though, we don’t have a pet.”

“Are you…I mean…do you have your own family, or do you still live with your parents?” the alcohol was completely out of his system by now, his mood changing completely for something he was not hoping to see today.

“I live with my parents. I know I’m a little old for that but I’m still waiting for the right one, if you know what I mean.” your eyes were beautiful, the low light of the bar area just accentuated their natural glow even more, your lips looked so plush and full, kissable was the only way to describe them. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that the shop was completely empty now, he was the last customer of the night and was probably time for him to leave as well. A pity.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I may have three wives, but not by choice. Can’t say I’ve been in love before. Don’t get me wrong, I love my wives, they’re my family. It’s just that you know that young love experience? Sneaking out to meet each other, first kisses, all that, yeah, never had it.” you were nodding in thought, even if his situation was pretty unrelatable, you could understand the feeling as you’ve always craved the same thing, therefore rejecting any possibility of an arranged marriage.

“It’s difficult to come by if you ask me. Everyone I know gets married for convenience. Love is a rare occurrence these days. It’s why I admire my parents. They didn’t care for how society would see them, father being on the older side and all, but they’re as happy and in love as teenagers regardless of what others might say.”

“Your father is an awesome man, he deserves nothing but the best.” the smile you gave him made his heart explode in a very flamboyant way, leaving him breathless.

“Thank you for your kind words, Uzui-sama. Even if it pains me, I’m afraid we must continue this wonderful conversation another day. It’s getting pretty late and there’s been rumors of demons around the area, father forbid me to keep the shop open until late.”

This alerted Tengen, he was in no condition to protect you if the worse was to happen, it couldn’t be risked. The feeling of being useless crept back into his chest, a feeling he’s been neglecting for the past few hours. Your cheerfulness was contagious, you’ve managed to make him feel alive again, to forget who he was, what tied him to his depressive state, you’ve managed to make him feel like just a man in a bar meeting a beautiful woman for the first time, he was livid. But reality was very different and it crashed hard on him like a bucket of icy cold water.

“You better go then, sadly your protector for the night has become a useless man. Wouldn’t want to put you in danger if I can no longer protect you.” his eyes turned dark, his expression falling. Making your way around the counter, you rested your hand on top of his, offering comfort. “You’re not useless, Uzui-sama. I’ve seen my father behead a demon with a spoon. Just because you lost an arm doesn’t mean you’re useless. Pretty sure you could protect me without a struggle if it was necessary. Besides, I’m not a maiden that needs to be protected, I know my way around, believe it or not.” the teasing tone in your voice made Tengen’s grin return, you were a handful there was no doubt about that.

“Call me Tengen, beautiful.” the soft look in his eyes took your breath away, he was perfection even if half of his face was covered in bandages.

He left the shop with a smile on his face, his worries all shoved down a drain. It amused him how just talking to you for a few hours could make such a difference in the way he sees the world. He didn’t feel useless anymore, you were right, this was just an obstacle it wasn’t the end of the world. Having just one eye was better than not having any, he just had to find a way to look even more flamboyant than ever to make up for the loss, easypeasy.

His heart was still racing, his chest felt warm.

That night he sent his wives to their own room, he had a lot to think about.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s been four days since your last encounter. Tengen was doing his best to restrain himself and stay home, he didn’t want to seem easy or to come across as pushy, but he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see you even if it was just for a few minutes, even if it was just through a window, anything would do.

“Uzui-sama! What a pleasure to have you back this soon. My daughter told me of your last visit, it’s a shame I was bedridden that day.” your father had now resumed his duties, sending Tengen into a nervous breakdown, he never expected him to be back this soon. Would he ever get to see you again? Is not like he knows where you live.

“Old man! You’re back already? Shouldn’t you be resting? I heard you hurt your leg. Rest is important to heal, I’m sure you know that.” there was a knowing smirk on your father’s face, he knew where this was coming from.

“I’m fine really, it doesn’t even hurt any more. Shouldn’t bother my lovely daughter for this, it gets bad when men get drunk and try to touch her, sadly it happens very often.” Tengen’s face went feral, he was seeing red at this point, wishing he had his swords with him, “They did WHAT? Tell me who they are, I will kill them all and feed them to stray dogs.” this made your father chuckle, he saw the look on your face when you were telling him about his visit, your happy sway the next morning while you prepared breakfast, it’s something he can identify quite well, and he could see it reflected in Tengen’s face too.

“If I knew who they were, they would be dead already Uzui-sama.”

“Good point. Do tell me if anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, I can help exterminating pests.” the venom in his words was comical, he was so angry, and he’s only met you once.

“Will do, please come inside, I will prepare something for you.”

“Don’t worry about me old man, it’s too early for a drink, I was just passing by and wanted to say hello.” he was about to continue with his life when he heard his favorite little voice from afar.

“FATHER!!” you were running after him slowly, dragging a ridiculously large bag full of potatoes, he said he wanted to switch the menu around but forgot to bring with him the main ingredients.

“(Y/N) my love, what is it? Oh! How could I forget the potatoes? I’m certainly getting old.” your face was red from exertion, your breath ragged from the little race.

“Let me carry those for you, they look heavy.” Tengen got the bag up with his good hand like if it was weightless, causing your eyes to dart up to your savior.

“Tengen-sama! I didn’t know you’d be here. How have you been?” you were mentally cursing at yourself for not choosing something nicer to wear, you didn’t even fix your hair as you were just going to drop the potatoes in the shop and head back to your house.

“Well, I didn’t know I would be either, but it happened that way. I’ve been good, how about you? Missing me much?” this made you blush, smiling up at the man in front of you, you had in fact, but never expected him to ask such a question. Your father cleared his throat, making the bubble you two had created pop, you both forgot he was even there.

“Come inside Uzui-sama, seems like your plans for the day have changed.” your father was a sneaky man, he knew what was going on and shouldn’t be endorsing it, but he’s never seen you smile like that.

“Yeah, I guess I can stay for a bit.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun had set and Tengen was still in your shop, though, instead of being in the counter where he usually was, he was now sneaking into the kitchen where you were pealing potatoes for your father.

It startled you at first, his hand coming over to cover your mouth to keep you from making any noise. “Tengen-sama?” your voice was muffled against the palm of his hand, making him chuckle.

“Shhh…the old man will hear us.” he was closing the door, scooting closer to you in the tight space.

“Do you need something?” the closeness was making you sweat with anticipation, he was towering over you, his eyes slightly hooded lost in your face. “I missed you…couldn’t get you out of my head, that’s why I came…” your heart was racing so fast you feared he could hear it from where he was.

“I did too, Tengen-sama. But we should probably don’t act on these feeli-“ he cut you short slamming his lips against yours, instantly letting a small whimper out. Your lips tasted wonderfully, they were so soft, so warm, just like he imagined they would be but even better than his wildest fantasy. Your hands came to lace around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to your body, taking in all he had to offer.

You both knew this was wrong, but none of you could avoid it any longer.

“Tengen-sama…what about your wives…?” you were mumbling against his lips in between kisses, his hand tugging on your kimono trying to expose as much skin as possible without getting you undressed. He just needed to kiss every inch of you, right now.

“What about them? They’ll love you…who wouldn’t? You’re gorgeous, kind, overall lovely…they might even try to steal you away…” his needy panting was driving you insane and you wished desperately your father wasn’t behind that flimsy door.

You held him by his shoulders, doing your best to stop his ministrations, this was a bad idea. “Tengen-sama, we can’t do this here.” he was now holding you up in his arm, keeping you trapped against the wall while he kissed down your neck. “Shall we go to my house then, doll? Don’t think I can live a day more without you…” his words were making you feel drunk, you needed this man as much as he needed you, but this was not the place for that.

“Ok….” Your voice was nothing but a breathless whisper and you were not sure this was such a good idea either; your father wouldn’t be there, but three unknown possibly threatening women would.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The walk over to his state was unbearable, the heat was overwhelming outside and inside of you. Tengen threw you over his shoulder in despair and ran over the town to speed up the process as his insides were also melting.

Without even announcing his arrival, he got into the house from his bedroom’s window, throwing you on his bed and devouring you for hours on.

It was an experience, that much was a fact.

He was unstoppable and so were you apparently.

The girls noticed something was off, even if you muffled every possible sound coming out of you, Tengen didn’t, and he was living his best life.

He’s never enjoyed himself this much, didn’t even think it would be this different. He’s been with many women before, his wives included, but you, you were a treat that he couldn’t get enough of.

He kept you in his room for days, it was just not an option for you to leave. Not like you wanted to anyways.

But this wasn’t just lust. This was intimacy as its best.

He would lay his head on your lap while you played with his hair, hearing him retell his stories of grater days.

You would feed each other while cuddling on his floor.

Shared multiple baths.

Even got to decorate his eyepatch with the remains of his old headband jewels that he had laying around in his room.

At this point it was pretty obvious to the rest that he had a woman in his room. But Suma was the only one bothered by this. Hina and Makio had accepted that this would eventually happen at some point, they’ve messed around with others as well with Tenge’s authorization, this wasn’t a strict household, they all could do whatever they pleased. But this was the first time Tengen brought a woman home. It was an indication that you were important, this meant serious business and they had no saying in this.

“Baby…why don’t you stay here for good? You know…be my wife maybe? I don’t think I can send you back to your parents’ house after all this…” his face was buried in the softness of your chest, unwilling to let go of you.

“Tengen…you already have a wife…three actually.”

“And? They have their own room, you can stay here with me if it bothers you. I’m sure you can all become good friends, they’re nice girls I promise.” Littering kisses over your exposed skin, he was in heaven, needed to sway you to his side.

“I don’t know Tengen…I mean I would marry you for sure, there’s no doubt there. But this isn’t a normal situation, and you know that. I’m not telling you to choose or anything, I just…I don’t know…” anxiety was filling his lungs, he’s never felt such attachment towards someone. Sure he was afraid of loosing his wives to the upper moon, but this was different. He felt like he needed you by his side, you made him want to continue living even after reaching such a low point. You made him laugh, you made him love.

“Baby please…give us a chance. I promise I’ll make you the happiest woman…”

You agreed to meet the girls and he was right, they were all lovely, even Suma who seemingly hated you was a nice girl.

Hina welcomed you to the family with her arms open and you could quickly see who was who based on the descriptions previously given by Tengen. They were lovely and accepted you as part of the group practically as soon as they saw you. Suma sulked for weeks as you were deemed Tengen’s one true love, she loved her husband dearly, so she felt a little betrayed unlike the rest that were happy the family was growing.

Your father had already accepted you would be sharing your husband, he wasn’t as bothered as your mother was, but they weren’t a conventional couple either, so they accepted him, nonetheless.

And so, you became a new addition to the Uzui household.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Life was chaotic to say the least.

Tengen honored his promise making you sleep with him in the master bedroom while the others slept in their own. He would still go to their room often, but your place was pretty much stablished among them.

You four were all his wives, but you were his woman.

This was further confirmed when you were the one he decided to impregnate.

The thought of having offspring terrified him, he couldn’t help to think of the bloodbath his family had to suffer under his father’s own commands.

But you made him want to experience fatherhood. He would be following your father’s steps, not his. He would be the best dad there is and you would be one to carry his first child.

Once pregnant not even Suma could resist how cute you were all round and fluffy. They spoiled you rotten constantly, you had the best food there was, the bigger portions. Tengen was over the moon and would carry you everywhere afraid of anything bad happening to his child.

Your first born was welcomed to this world surrounded by warmth and reaching an immense number of hearts.

Tomioka Giyuu, Tengen’s friend was invited by him for the big day, he was so proud of his lovely wife he wanted the entire universe to come and see his beautiful newborn. Of course, he never thought his friend would hog his child as soon as he was born. The first face your son ever saw was not yours nor your husbands, not even his grandparents but an old friend.

Tengen was in charge of naming his first born. He wanted something flashy, something that screamed power. So, he went for ‘Shingen’, promising you would be able to name the next one.

He quickly became the little prince of the house.

Adored little Shingen was surrounded by beautiful women from the day he was born onward, what could be more flamboyant than that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time Skip~

You’ve been living as a family of eight for quite some time now, even if it was tempting to bring more lovely children to this world, the household was anything but quiet already.

Suma had gone in a rant a while back, she was hurt, felt unloved. She wanted to provide Tengen with a child as well, wanted to be loved as she used to before you came to the house. The rift between you two was unavoidable. Tengen refused to leave any of them pregnant without your consent and you had to agree just to shut her up, it was quite aggravating, and it was upsetting Shingen who kept on begging for a sibling. He did want one, but from his mother and father, he just didn’t understand his dysfunctional home, he was too young for that.

A little girl was born from her rant, and she not only looked like her mother but acted just like her too.

It drove things to a still point and you were considering leaving the house with your son. But you loved your husband too much for your own good, you just couldn’t muster the strength to do it.

Shingen’s temper was growing sour, he disliked the current living arrangements way too much as he was used to being the center of attention.

His father thought giving him the little sibling he used to ask for so often would alleviate his load, bring his cheerful flamboyant son back, and magically, it worked.

When Tenya came to this world, Shingen went back to his soft loving nature, the four of you lived in Tengen’s room and he felt safe there, it was your family’s own little home within the house, your happy place.

Tenya was now the center of attention, and he was fine with that, at least it was his actual brother, and he loved him, he was all he ever wished to have and for a second thought he would never.

He feared his family would collapse, that his father would choose one of the other women and make them the main wife, it terrified him being replaced, having that annoying kid take his rightful place. He loved his father so much, looked up to him, he was everything for Shingen. Having a brother was his way of securing his place in the house, he wouldn’t want to go with someone else if there was a new baby in your little family, right? Proud of developing the perfect plan, he looked more like Tengen as days went on.

Suma had asked for your forgiveness and you two went back to being friends, your son however, would never.

The air around the house was tense and more often than not you wanted to run away from there.

This was your decision, you knew it would be hard, sharing your one true love was not something everyone could do, but you didn’t regret it. Tengen loves you, you know it, the world knows it, he gave you your beloved sons, you were happy regardless of the confrontations and attention seeking displays.

A letter had arrived from the Ubuyashiki mansion to celebrate Kiriya-sama’s coming of age ceremony and everyone was invited, even the children.

Tengen was particularly looking forward to seeing his pillar friends and get to brag about his beautiful big family.

His household was unconventional. Troublesome. Loud.

He brought war into his own house, but he found true love in the process. He was a new man, a respected husband and father.

Life would continue with its hardships but having you and the gang by his side was all he needed for the rest of his days.

But he had to fix the mess he got himself into.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Tagged babes: @doumadono

Masterlist Next Chapter

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x female reader #demon slayer hashira #uzui x y/n #demon slayer uzui #tengen uzui #uzui x you #uzui tengen #demon slayer tengen #tengen x reader #tengen fluff #kimetsu daddies #might be controversial but I honestly think nobody would happily share their husband majority of Tengen fics are full of bs

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 11 months ago

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Mayor Attorney - The Charity Gala

Tonight was the night of the charity gala, one that had been highly anticipated for some time now. There had been a large drive across the city to organise small events to raise money for a good cause, and this gala was no different. The organisers had put a lot of care into making sure everything would go just right. The guest list included both the Mayor and the District Attorney, along with names that Damien eagerly reminded you of. People that had supported him in his campaign, patrons, and not a single person that would give him a stress headache trying to avoid for the entire night.

It was strange to know it was one that Damien had no direct involvement in, but that was a nice relief knowing that he might actually be able to enjoy himself. As Mayor, he would have to socialise and make his presence known, but you hoped he would have time to just be Damien for a little while.

It would be nice. The previous few weeks were too busy for both of you to find time for a date, and you had already agreed to attend this event together. Would it be wrong to make the most of the night?

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror so you could make the final adjustments to your hair. Your choice of outfit was a simple one - neat and black, plain and simple. It had been Damien's idea to co-ordinate with only black, but you couldn't ignore the suspicion bubbling up. Damien, a man who loves the chance to dress up nicely, the man who had once confessed that doing so was a 'guilty pleasure', opting for something ordinary? He had something planned.

But what? Damien wouldn't want to do anything that would throw him in the spotlight when he didn't want to be. He also wasn't someone who would add a flamboyant flair to his outfit.

Before you could mull further on what said 'plan' could be, there was a knock on the door. He was here. Your hair would have to do. A coat with money in a buttoned-up pocket was plucked off a chair on your dash to the door.

Damien stood in the doorway like a lingering shadow. He had kept his side of the deal. His black suit was pristine, with barely a crease in sight. The mayoral ribbon he wore for public events was the perfect shade to blend in with the material. His shoes were barely visible thanks to your shadow obscuring them. Even his shirt and bowtie were barely discernable from the jacket. What you did notice was the lack of accessory on the right lapel. He was known for wearing a flower, and you had expected him to find a black blossom.

The cane was neatly tucked under his left arm so he could carefully hold a small bouquet of white roses with both hands, as though afraid a mere breeze would damage them.

"I'm sorry," he smiled bashfully when he noticed your eyes drop down to the flowers, "I know we had agreed that we weren't to give any gifts ahead of our 'date' but… they were in their prime, and I couldn't help but be reminded of your sweet smile. You look perfect tonight, my love."

Ah, Damien. Roses might be a symbol of love, but you knew they were one of Damien's favourites, even before you two started dating. Once you let slip that you preferred the white blooms over the red ones, they became a reminder of you. You playfully rolled your eyes, accepted the bouquet, and invited him in so you could fetch a container of water to house them in. You would never be forgiven if they were left to dry out in the open air all night.

As you began placing the stems into their temporary, watery home, your gaze drifted over to Damien. He had stayed near the entrance, staying quiet so you could focus on your task and occupying himself with admiring the pictures on the wall. It was a common tactic he used for the sake of good manners. You waved a rose to get his attention, joking that you thought he had long lost 'guest' privilege by now.

You hit the nail on the head as he sheepishly chuckled and scratched his cheek.

"Ah. Yes. Well… This is a date, and I don't wish to behave so casually when it is the first time we've been together in a while." He paused as he noticed your wave beckoning him over. Who was he to argue with that? Slowly, he crossed the space to where you were working. "I simply want to make this a special night, and make sure you know how thankful I am that it is me you love." Your hands were preoccupied, and he took advantage of this to kiss your cheek.

The wall of formality was finally lowered, as Damien relaxed enough to engage in casual conversation about how the day went for both of you. His cane

For those few moments, you had forgotten the purpose of the night, until you glanced in his direction and was reminded of the empty lapel. You were quick to point this out.

"I did think one of my flowers would be a little too 'much' for a night that I have no involvement in. However, I did have an idea." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two small, heart-shaped pins. One was red, the other was green. "A little gesture to show support, wouldn't you say?"

You flashed him a knowing smile. Your hunch was right, but you never would have expected how simple the act would be. He handed you the green pin so he could set to work putting the red one on your outfit.

"Sometimes, we have to remember the purpose for an event like this. It isn't merely to show how 'good' we are, or to make ourselves feel better. It's to help those who need it, and show that they aren't alone when it feels otherwise." With both pins in place, Damien stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There. Perfect."

You had a playful grin as you shook your head. You couldn't go just yet. His pin wasn't perfect, you claimed, as you reached back to the pin you had just put on him. He believed you, and that was his mistake. It left him open for your hands to swiftly move to either side of his face and pull him toward you for a kiss. When you leaned back, you saw a familiar lovestruck expression plastered on his face that you adored.

You asked if you should both get going to the gala. He nodded, leaning forward to close that gap between you one more time before it was time to go.

Do you want to help make a charity gala a success? Why don't you go check out Heropliers4Palestine, a week-long event dedicated to raising money to help the Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF). Click here for more information on how you can support a good cause or help raise awareness, and get yourself something special and made just for you in return!

#writersofmark #mayor attorney #mayor damien #a date with markiplier #selfshipping #y/n district attorney #who killed markiplier #(no readmore because this is important mwahaha)#(Help support a great cause during the strike week!!)#(mobile posting so I am REALLY hoping it comes out okay)

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davnittbraes · 1 year ago

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A Study in Feminism

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7190 (I’m sorry)

Warnings, tags etc: mention of addiction and recovery, very brief unwanted physical restraint, reader technically commits assault and runs from the cops, mentions of past relationships, arguing, angst (of course, because it’s me,) rage at the patriarchy, explicit smut, oral f!receiving (of course, because it’s Frankie,) unprotected p in the v action with previously given consent and present but not mentioned birth control, c-spot orgasm (DONE RIGHT, none of that blindly stabbing at things nonsense) and some fluffy silliness to top it off

Notes: this is my first true one-shot, as in I have no intention of developing this into a series. We’ll see how long that lasts lol. No mention of Frankie’s kid(s?) here, the word count is bad enough without diving into that

Objectively, it’s a shitty bar.

But it’s the only one in the area that won’t be packed tonight - it’s lack of television screens eliminates the chance of rowdy, drunk crowds packing in to watch the big game, and really, the last thing you want is to be around a bunch of obnoxious people right now.

Today was… A Day.

Your morning sucked. Work sucked. Your commute sucked. Everything just. Sucked.

The type of exhaustion born from dealing with too much bullshit is setting into your muscles and all you want to do is close this day out with an ending that isn’t as terrible as the rest of it.

So. The bar is shitty, but it’s quiet, and it has food and alcohol. Three out of the four things you need right now.

And the last thing just texted you to say he’s on his way.

You smile as you type out a quick reply to Frankie. Funny, you’ve been doing that a lot lately.

Smiling, about Frankie.

It’s only been a few months, and you’ve both got enough relationship baggage that neither of you are rushing into anything. So it’s a little early for you to be confident in saying it’s going to be a long-term thing.

But you’re still smiling when you lock your phone and the wallpaper photo lights up your screen - you and Frankie, kissing in the middle of a mutually enabled giggle fit.

Not an unusual scene, in your relationship.

He makes you laugh, often, those dry one-liners that come out of nowhere, spoken in that quiet, almost always gentle voice. A voice that belies his strength and determination, a focused drive that got him through his military career and earned him a place on elite task forces.

The same focus that pulled him out of the pit of addiction and led him to be five years clean this year.

Now, he’s the reason why your exhaustion is already starting to slough off your shoulders, just the anticipation of his presence enough to set your heart racing and turn your thoughts away from the events of the day.

He’s the reason why you had the energy to shower after work, throw on a pretty sundress and some makeup instead of sulking alone at home on the sofa.

He’s the reason why you wanted to end the day on a positive note, because since Frankie came along, you know what it’s like to be happy and you want to stay that way.

Shifting on your bar stool, you set your phone down and reach for the glass in front of you, taking a sip. The unoccupied seat beside you suddenly fills, a guy wearing a bit too much cologne sliding into it.

Internal alarm bells go off immediately, skin on the back of your neck prickling in warning. There are plenty of empty seats that aren’t right next to you. But then again, this isn’t the first time some guy has invited himself into your evening unwanted. You can handle this.

Glancing around, you pick out an empty table for two toward the back. You’ll just move over there -

“Hey.”

You look at the man who just sat next to you, silently praying to whatever the patron saint of women drinking in bars is. Please let him not be a creep. “Hey, I was just moving -“

“Come on, now, you’re the reason why I sat here in the first place.” He turns to face you, smile too forced, gaze drifting down your body. “I’ll buy you a drink, we’ll get to know each other.”

Nope. Not a chance.

Keeping your tone neutral, you move to slide off the barstool. “I’m good, thanks.”

He stands up suddenly, stepping too close, expression shifting to something dark.

You inhale sharply, startled, and his cologne catches in the back of your throat, stinging your eyes and almost making you cough and you blink rapidly to clear your vision.

Gotta get away, where -

“Hey, dude. She said no.”

An unfamiliar voice drifts over your shoulder, a tall, broad man stepping up to your side, placing himself just a bit in front of you.

You can’t help but frown at him - who is this guy? - but the creep with the cologne scoffs, gives him a onceover, then slinks away.

The guy turns to smile at you, and your frown fades. He’s instantly charming, warm and friendly. And he did just scare off what was going to be a problem for you.

Clearing your throat, you reach for your drink to get rid of the lingering scent of strong cologne. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs, settling into the now-empty stool. “I see a girl in trouble, I have to step in. It’s the right thing to do.”

Those internal alarm bells sound off again, quieter this time, unsure. He seems friendly, but he moved right into that stool the creep had just left far too easily for your comfort.

Time to go.

You grab your phone, slip it into your purse. “Well, I wasn’t really in trouble, but I appreciate that you want to help other people.”

“Guys like him are assholes. They should be put in their place more often.” He shakes his head, leaning an elbow against the bar, charming smile dimming as if he’s upset even talking about it. “Might not have seemed like it to you, but men like him can flip pretty quickly. He definitely would have taken advantage of you.”

A flash of surprise makes you freeze, staring at him. He assumes you were completely blind to how obviously dangerous that guy was?

A hard note slips into your voice, despite your efforts to keep it light. “I was leaving when you showed up. I would have been fine.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze running down your frame in an echo of the other guy’s. “I’m sure you would have. But girls like you are always safer when you have a man to look after for you.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice rises, anger rushing through your veins. “I don’t need ‘a man to look after me.’ I can do that myself. Watch me.”

You shove off the barstool, spinning around to -

His hand grabs your arm, grips tight, pulls you back.

Shock rips through anger and you yank hard to free your arm -

His fingers dig in, bruise -

It doesn’t budge he’s too strong -

You struggle to pull free, managing to glare at him, anger flaring bright at the smug look on his face. “Let me go.”

He grins, gaze dark with something that curls into your stomach and makes you sick. Makes your heartbeat waver and your lungs clench with panic.

You hate this feeling.

This feeling of helplessness.

It’s one you’ve felt too many times in situations too similar to this, when you’ve had to cautiously navigate a conversation with a strange man who was coming on to you, always aware of the fact that they were usually bigger and stronger than you, that many people would be on his side if it came to a fight.

That society would have you “give him a chance,” no matter what you wanted.

Frustration sweeps through shock and panic.

No.

You’ve had enough of men making you feel this way.

Like you’re powerless.

You shove him with your free hand, pushing all your body weight into the motion.

He jerks backward, thrown off balance, letting go of your arm as he stands up. “Hey! Watch it -“

“What’s going on?”

The quiet, gentle words seep into the tension in the air, dull the harsh beat of your pulse in your ears.

You look over your shoulder, voice rushed, high with too much emotion. “Frankie.”

He’s eyeing the stranger, jaw set in a tight line as he moves to stand by you, placing himself between you and the guy.

A thrill of something primal squeezes the air from your lungs - the way Frankie moves, with the confident grace of someone who has fought similar fights countless times, and won.

With the absolute certainty that he will do whatever is necessary in order to protect you.

Your heartbeat races for a different reason, another kind of heat flooding your system.

Seeing Frankie stand up for you is… unfairly sexy.

The stranger scoffs, looking at you over Frankie’s shoulder, sneer twisting his features. “For someone who doesn’t need a man, you sure are quick to hide behind one.”

You freeze.

Shame pours ice-hot down your back.

No. You will not let him make you feel like this.

Powerless.

Anger boils, irrational and unstoppable -

You’re moving, slipping around Frankie and pushing out all your anger and frustration at this asshole and all the world’s assholes and -

Ow.

The stranger is shouting, slumping, holding his hands to his nose.

Why does your hand hurt?

You’re moving again, surging toward the stranger, but someone grabs you and -

Instinct shoves you back, a grunt as your elbow hits something soft -

Rage dims enough for a sliver of awareness to sink back in.

Frankie wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you back, his voice finally registering to your anger-haze mind. “Stop, come on, we have to get out of here -“

A patron sitting at the bar a few seats away is on his phone, talking frantically, you catch words drifting through the rush of blood in your ears -

Police -

Assault -

Broke his nose -

You push Frankie away and find your feet, grabbing your purse and moving quickly toward the back door.

The cool night air hits your skin and you gasp, the contrast to the heat boiling in your chest sharp and disorienting.

Frankie’s right behind you, pulling the door shut and striding quickly toward the street. “Come on, I parked this way. We’ll go to my place, it’s closer.”

Instinct more than anything pushes you to follow him, your mind too chaotic with adrenaline and anger to think. The guy’s sneering smirk replays in your head over and over, that smug superiority of someone who thinks they hold power over another person.

Your teeth hurt as you clench your jaw.

Worse, that he did hold power over you. That he was stronger than you.

That he proved his point.

Because Frankie -

Was only trying to help you -

The rational thought burns to ash as soon as it crosses your mind, caught in a whirlwind of rage echoing with the words of the asshole back at the bar.

Because Frankie shoved his way in.

Frankie opens the passenger side door to his truck, gesturing for you to get in. The gesture reminds you of when he’d stepped between you and that asshole and shame ripples through you again.

You liked it -

No, he interfered, he didn’t think you could hold your own -

You shake your head sharply, trying to knock the irrational, anger-fuelled thoughts back as you slide into the seat and he closes the door.

Deep breath. Let it out. Try to calm down.

The silence is heavy as he drives, vibrating with tension, hanging between you just waiting to crack and spill out all the words you’re trying so hard not to say, but that tiny sliver of rationality is growing harder and harder to hold on to, worn away by the memory of that smug smile and that slimy glance down your body and those words -

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

Frankie’s quiet voice is jarring to the noise in your head, just enough for your tenuous hold on your temper to finally snap.

You shift roughly in your seat, struck with the urge to move but annoyingly stuck where you are for now. “What ‘happened’ was you got in the way.”

He glances at you, a movement you see out of the corner of your eye. “How did I get in the way?”

Ignoring the heat of frustration in his voice, you power through, holding tight to your own anger. “You shoved yourself into a situation that I was handling just fine without you.”

“Really.” The sarcasm is a low blow, it stokes your anger perfectly. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to go to jail tonight. Sorry I stopped that from happening.”

You throw up your hands, let them fall to your lap with a loud slap to emphasize your frustration. “Don’t be dramatic. I would have been fine. I didn’t need you to get involved.”

A moment of silence, and you risk a glance in his direction - the green glow of a traffic light illuminates him as the truck passes underneath it, catching the faint movement of his index finger tapping slowly against the steering wheel.

Great. He’s using that anger management technique he learned in therapy.

Next he’ll be trying to walk you through it too, count steadily to ten, so you can both calm down and talk about this.

Yet another thing you don’t need from him right now.

Right now, you want to rage, at him, at the asshole in the bar, at the entire world, for making you feel like you aren’t enough.

Frankie clears his throat. “Obviously not. That punch was perfect.”

The words throw you for a loop, not what you were expecting, but not enough to quench your anger. “Yeah, well, I’m no spec ops but I can throw a punch. Which is why I didn’t need you to step in.”

He looks at you again as he turns onto his street, but it’s too dark to see his expression. “Look, I saw you were in trouble -“

“I was handling it.” You cut him off quick but he keeps going.

“- and I care about you, so yes, I stepped in -“

“- I didn’t ask you to -“

“You don’t have to, that’s just what you do for people you care about.”

An undefinable emotion flood your veins, hot and cold at the same time. “Oh, so that guy cares about me?”

A pause. “What?”

You scoff, fold your arms across your chest, suddenly hyperaware of your body and uncomfortable about it. “He stepped in when another creep was being too pushy, so he must care about me, too, right? I should have been grateful to him, let him buy me a drink?” Rage chokes your throat. “Should I have let him take me home and fuck me because he stood up for me?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying -“

“Then what are you saying, Frankie?” You twist in your seat, look at him without even seeing him. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re no different than that guy.”

Frankie stills, turns off the ignition, sits back in his seat.

You hadn’t even realized he’d parked in his driveway.

Blinking, you finally look at him.

The outside light is on, casting his features in a dull orange, deepening the shadows around his eyes from the bill of his baseball cap. You can’t see them, but it doesn’t matter - you can tell by the slump of his shoulders, the downturned corners of his mouth.

Your words echo in your thoughts.

Guilt spikes through your anger.

You hadn’t -

You didn’t mean -

What you said last still hangs in the air, unable to be taken back.

Frankie moves, breaking the stillness. Opens the truck door and steps out. Closes it behind him.

You watch him walk up to the front door of his house, unlock it, disappear inside.

The dull thud of the door closing behind him is like a final toll of a bell.

Your voice cracks in the silence of the truck cab. “Fuck.”

The worn hinge of the truck door creaks as you scramble out, slam it behind you with a little more force than you meant to. The buzz of anger in your chest shifts, turns toward yourself too, and how you treated the one man who was kind to you tonight.

You’re such an idiot, why would you say that -

He’s not -

A growl of frustration chokes in your throat as you push through the front door.

The house is quiet, dark, only the entryway light left on. And empty, no sign of Frankie -

He comes out of the kitchen, a bag of frozen green peas in his hands.

Your heart stutters hard enough to hurt, and you lean back against the door as if it could give you strength.

Frankie stops in front of you, gaze on the bag of peas as he holds it out to you. “To keep the swelling down.”

A huff gets stuck in your tight throat, comes out more like a cry, and you blink back the blur of tears, look up, around, anywhere but at him. “How dare you be so thoughtful and sweet after I said the worst things to you.”

He gently takes your hand and turns it over to rest your sore knuckles on the bag of peas. “Still care about you.”

You can’t even look at him, can’t see the hurt that you know is obvious in those warm, brown eyes. Instead, you focus on his hands, on the large palm cupping the pack of frozen peas to your scraped knuckles, the long fingers of his other hand loosely curling around your wrist.

All the fire and heat and fury that burned in your chest moments ago suddenly sputters, flickers. Dies.

A heavy sigh loosens the tightness in your lungs. “I’m not mad at you.”

His fingers flex on your wrist, his low hum of disbelief vibrating over your skin.

Fuck, you really screwed this up, didn’t you.

Letting your head fall back against the door, you force yourself to look at him. He needs to see it, that you’re telling the truth. “I mean it. I’m not.”

That warm gaze meets yours - yeah, just as you thought, it’s there, hurt tinged with anger and now doubt.

That stings more than the hurt, actually.

The knowledge that he’s doubting you, your honesty. Maybe even how you feel about him.

Fuck your pride, girl. Just tell him.

Shifting your wrist in his grip, you take his hand, squeeze it tight. “Look, I liked it, okay? And I’m angry with myself and I took it out on you and that’s not fair, and I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

A frown forms between his brows, his gaze flickering over your features in confusion. “Liked what?”

Oh god, just say it, get it over with. “When you showed up and like immediately stepped in to defend me, physically put yourself between me and the threat with no hesitation, then stood there with your stupidly broad shoulders and strong arms and testosterone and this whole aura of “don’t fuck with my girl” and god, Frankie, it was so hot. “

His mouth twitches, lips curving at the corners and his frown melts away, hurt in his eyes replaced by fond amusement. “Oh yeah? You liked that?”

Your nose wrinkles as embarrassment tries to push you away from him. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna know what was really hot?”

His voice dips low, rasping down your spine, pulling it into an arch that curves your hips toward him, a movement tracked by his gaze.

He definitely catches the clench of your thighs, too.

His thumb glides over your bruised knuckles. “What was really hot was watching you clock a guy with at least six inches and fifty pounds on you, staring him down like you were gonna castrate him right there in the bar.”

Biting back a grin, you twine your fingers in his, cocking your head to the side. “If only I had a knife.”

He chuckles - why is that so hot - and lets go of your hand, tugs you toward him, pushing into your space, his chest brushing your breasts through your dress. Anticipation catches in your throat, arousal you’ve been holding back for so long pulsing to life.

Then his expression turns serious, thoughtful, his free hand slipping around your waist to rest on the small of your back with casual intimacy. “That’s what I was thinking, you know.”

Your thoughts are already sluggish with a pleasant haze, it takes a moment to figure out what he’s referring to. “That you wanted me to cut his balls off?”

“I was thinking don’t fuck with my girl, because she’ll make you wish you’d never laid a hand on her, and leaving with your balls still attached is the least of your worries.”

The absolute certainty, the pride in his voice - some emotion you’re not ready to name twists behind your ribs, trembles through your veins.

God, what you wouldn’t do for this man.

Lifting your free hand, you let it trail down his chest, the slight swell of his stomach, brush over the bulge of his jeans. His breath hitches as you press your palm there, lean in to murmur against his lips.

“Don’t worry, your balls are safe with me.”

You catch the glint of his answering smile before he’s taking the sliver of distance between you and swallowing it in a searing kiss that pulls a moan from your throat.

He echoes the sound back when you flex your hand, fingernails scratching lightly against denim, palm grinding over his cloth-covered cock. Arousal warms between your thighs as you feel him twitch, already starting to strain against the fabric.

Need swarms over your skin, your thoughts, dizzying.

Fuck, everything about him feels so good, the way his body presses to yours, his hand glides up your back, his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, how his breath stutters against your cheek when your fingers curl over his length and squeeze -

Crash -

You startle, hands flying to grasp at Frankie’s shoulders as you whirl toward the source of the sound -

Tiny, cold balls ping off your legs -

What -

Frankie huffs, looking down at the floor by your feet, mouth twisting up in a sheepish smile. “Dropped the peas.”

You glance down at the bag, split open, a few random peas still rolling away, and a surprised laugh bursts from your chest. He looks at you, gaze sparking, and your laugh gets stuck in your throat, a wave of intense affection flooding warm through your veins.

It amazes you, sometimes, how much you want him.

He obviously sees it, expression shifting to something similar, darker and sweeter at the same time.

Then he’s pulling you to him, hand curling around the back of your neck as he kisses you firmly, thumb pressing at the hinge of your jaw until you open for him.

Yes -

His tongue slips into your mouth to glide along yours and a rush of heat floods your core and you clutch at his shoulders, sweep his cap off those soft curls to sink your fingers into them, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Something shifts, you can feel it under your palms, an energy that flares to life deep within him.

Your own body responds, moulding to his, silently pleading for more.

He gives it, kiss turning into something more desperate, all lips and tongue and panting breath and hands roaming your body, catching on the fabric of your dress, slipping underneath.

The heat of his large hands on the swell of your ass makes you gasp, break the kiss, and he groans.

“Need you -“

The pleading tone of his voice brings your lips right back to his, your hips arching into his grip, shivers of pleasure racing along your skin when his fingertips dig in just enough to sting.

Then you’re moving, feet stumbling to follow him, senses too focused on how his lips move against yours and his hands sweep over your hips and his thumbs trace the waistband of your underwear -

Something soft but solid bumps against your thigh and then he’s turning you, guiding you back to lean on it - the arm of the sofa, you’re in the living room now.

He pulls away enough to look at you, dark gaze flitting over your features as if taking you in, every sign of your arousal that’s painted on your face. The corner of his mouth ticks up, as if he likes what he sees.

There’s something almost cocky about his expression and it feeds the heat growing in your core, cunt throbbing for friction. Your hands fly to his belt, start to open the buckle but he takes your wrists, stills your motion.

You hesitate, confused. “Frankie?”

“It’s okay.” He brings your hands to his lips, kisses them lightly before setting them palms down on either side of you, resting on the arm of the sofa. “I just wanna taste that perfect pussy of yours first.”

A moan falls from your lips, and his smile grows as he sinks to his knees.

Holy shit -

Seeing him like this, knelt before you with that goddamn knowing smile, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he pulls the skirt of your dress to your waist. It’s exhilarating in some way, shoving your need for him even higher.

But residual guilt suddenly tamps down on your arousal. “Frankie, I’m supposed to be making you feel good -“

“This does make me feel good.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down your legs, glancing up at you as he leans in. “Hold that pretty dress up for me, baby.”

You just manage to grab the skirt of your dress to keep it out of his way when he flicks his tongue out and swipes it over your clit.

Oh fuck -

Pleasure sparks through your core, your thighs falling open, and he hums in approval as he shifts closer, large hands gliding up your legs, warm and steady, plush lips pressing a wet kiss to your clit before lifting his gaze to look up at you.

A moment, and you’re pinned by that dark brown, those beautiful eyes that glow with some kind of warmth, some sort of emotion that’s stronger than any you’re ready to name yet.

You swallow against a suddenly dry throat, a mirroring emotion swelling in your chest, his name falling from your lips in a hushed whimper. “Frankie…”

He blinks once, a slow sweep of his lashes, the last moment he gives you to breathe.

Then he truly begins.

Fuck it’s so good -

The flat of his tongue warm and slick against your folds -

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your dress, so tight it hurts.

Scrape of his moustache over your clit sends shivers of pleasure through your body -

Lungs ache for air, you struggle to breathe, swept up in a wave of hot-wet-heat that sears your skin.

It’s intense and all-consuming, how he pulls pleasure from you body with his mouth, knowing exactly what makes you fall apart, a combination of experience and intuition you’ve never been the focus of before him.

You can’t stop watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his tongue slipping through your folds, swirling around your clit, dipping down to lave over your entrance. Pleasure builds steadily, a throbbing pulse that radiates through your veins in time with your rapid heartbeat, and you finally break, gasp for breath, a sharp inhale that cracks with his name -

“Frankie oh god -“

He groans in response, dark gaze growing darker, hand gripping your thigh to haul it over his shoulder and -

Your head falls back, a cry cracking free from your aching chest.

The angle brings him closer, lets your hips roll into the heat of his mouth, and you chase it, shudder as he follows the movement, flattens his tongue so you can grind your cunt along its length.

Pleasure spirals through your veins, voice tight with it. “Yes oh god just like that -“

You try to find a rhythm but can’t, a steady tremble growing in your thighs as your pleasure swirls higher and you whine in frustration.

He pulls back, words deep and rasping against your sensitive skin. “Come on, baby, ride my tongue until you come, I wanna taste it.”

His hand grabs your hip, guides your movements, pulls your folds along the slick of his tongue and catches your clit with a flick at the end and it’s perfect so perfect and -

Again and again -

Heat grows, swirls through your core, pushing higher and higher.

Yes you can feel it right there right there -

He nudges deeper and his tongue grinds over your entrance on the next roll of your hips and you cry out, muscles tensing, so close -

Again -

A burst of wet heat -

Swell of pleasure and it bursts -

You sway with the force of it, scrambling for purchase, a hand diving into his hair to hold him there as your cunt pulses with each wave.

Finally it breaks -

Air rushes into your lungs, blood pounds in your ears, your entire body shivers with the release.

He groans long and low, tongue pressing to your entrance, long fingers gripping your hip so hard it stings. The wet sound of him swallowing your pleasure down pulls a trembling aftershock from your core.

Fuck he’s so fucking sexy and incredible and perfect -

Need you need him now -

Thoughts still scattered, a tug on his curls is all you can manage.

And he’s there, rising to kiss you, fill your mouth with the taste of your own pleasure. You melt into him, wanting more, slip a hand between your bodies to cup his cloth-covered cock.

He grunts, a sharp exhale that shoots straight to your core and sparks renewed arousal, and you squeeze as best you can through the denim of his jeans.

You find your voice, murmur against his mouth. “Are you gonna let me apologize to you now?”

His hands curve around your waist. “Apology accepted.”

Suddenly he grips and flips you around -

A whirl of motion and -

His hands press firmly between your shoulderblades, pushing you down until you’re bent over the arm of the sofa.

You moan into the sofa cushion as a shiver of primal need runs down your back - so fucking hot when he manhandles you like that - arches your hips up, seeking.

He tosses the skirt of your dress up over your waist, the clink of metal telling you he’s unbuckling his belt. “You like that? When I move you around however I want?”

A frisson of embarrassment stills your movements, and you huff into the cushion. “Shut up.”

The sound of a zipper as his words drift down over you, gentling and teasing at the same time. “Come on, baby. Say it. For me, I wanna hear it.”

Leaning up enough to throw a mock-glare at him over your shoulder, you bite your lower lip to stop from moaning again - just the sight of him, all broad shoulders and mussed hair and dark eyes, towering over you, enough to send a rush of want through your body.

And that playful, knowing look in those dark eyes tells you he’s not going to oblige you until you give him what he’s asking for.

Sighing dramatically, you flop back down, burying your face in the sofa cushion to muffle your words. “Yes, I like it.”

“Like what?”

Damn him. Whining, you wiggle your hips to tempt him into moving on from this but hands on your hips still your movement. “Fine. I like it when you move me around like that. During sex.”

He chuckles, one hand leaving you while the other grips your hip tight. “Distinction noted.”

Then he’s sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, notching into your entrance and -

Oh fuck this angle -

The stretch -

You gasp for breath, fingers curling into the sofa cushion -

Pleasure pulses bright through your core -

He groans as he works his cock in. “Fuck, this pussy, so fucking perfect -“

The wet squelch of each slow, grinding thrust echoes in your ears, ripples through the rising heat spiralling out from where your body clenches around the thick of his cock.

Spikes of white-hot pleasure shoot through your hips and legs, tremble in your lungs, and you can’t think, only want more -

A pause, he stills, hips pressed against your ass, head of his cock tight to a spot deep inside you that sends a jolt of pleasure through your entire body.

“Gotta breathe for me, baby.”

His rasping words sink into the pleasure-haze, the ache in your lungs burning enough to finally get your attention, and you inhale sharp, voice cracking. “Oh my god, Frankie, feels so good -“

“I know, I know, just breathe.” A warm hand glides up your back and down again, in time with a gentle thrust of his hips that grinds his cock against your cervix.

Oh fuck -

An intense burst of pleasure rips through your body, flashing white at the edges of your vision.

Again -

It’s so much it’s overwhelming it’s incredible and you’re floating -

Over and over -

Your fingernails scrape at the sofa cushion, hands desperate to anchor yourself, spit out gasping words. “Right there just like that oh g-“

He grunts as your cunt pulses around him. “Holy shit, you’re gonna come already - fuck -“

The shudder runs through your entire body, clenches his cock tight, and you feel it, building so fast - too fast - it’s so much how -

A high-pitched whine of his name is all you can manage. “Frankie -“

“Come for me, come on -“

Again -

Strong hands on your waist, holding you in place -

Again -

Bright hot heat -

Bursts -

Every nerve ending in your body alight, blood rushing in your ears -

The drop and -

You gasp for air, like you haven’t taken a breath in centuries, throat aching with a sharp throb and you swallow against it - did you scream? Fuck. Probably.

Strong hands caress your lower back. “That was a good one, huh?”

Senses scattered, you blink to try and clear your vision, your head, find your words. “Yeah.”

An amused chuckle, a gentle shift of his hips that drags his cock along your sensitive inner walls, sends a shiver up your spine. “Want me to give you another one?”

Your cunt clenches instinctively as he seats himself deep again, pleasure once again spiral outward through your limbs. “Yes, make me come again, please.”

“Yeah? I want to, baby. Love watching you fall apart on my cock.” Another slow thrust that curls your toes. “Wanna give you what you want, always.”

You moan into the sofa cushion, his words slipping beneath the haze on your thoughts to someplace deeper, something that tightens around your heart.

Then strong arms are slipping underneath you, hauling you upright, hands are pressing you back against a broad chest and -

The sharp thrust of his cock rips through your body but his hands hold you firm, pin you in place as he starts up a rhythm that shoves pleasure through your veins.

Your fingers curl around his forearms, nails digging, strangled moan falling from your lips. “Holy sh-shit-“

“Yeah, I know.” He groans into the crook of your neck, tongue flicking out to taste your heated skin.

His hand slips down to where his cock pulls slick from your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips finding your aching clit instantly.

Fuck -

Your legs waver and his free hand shifts, arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady as his fingers match pace with the snap of his hips.

Pleasure rises, hot, swirls out from your core and fills every corner of your being -

Frankie -

So perfect so good feels so good -

His free hand finds your breast, dives into the neckline of your dress to cup it firmly, grinds his palm over your peaked nipple and tiny sparks of pleasure join the flood, sweeping you away -

The first pulse of your orgasm looms, pulls a cry from your throat.

He picks up his pace, voice rasping in your ear, words stifled by the rhythm of his thrusts. “Fuck I’m gonna come, come with me, baby, please come with me I need it -“

Yes yes yes -

Up higher and higher until it’s a tidal wave of bright heat -

Your slick spatters on your inner thighs, squelches around his cock -

There -

Your head falls back, body shudders against his. “Frankie -“

His pace stutters, once, a cracked groan rumbling in your ear -

Everything pulls tight then releases and -

A flood of wet heat against the pulse of his cock deep in your pussy -

He thrusts again, again, slows, again -

Pleasure finally dims, moves to overstimulation, his fingers leave your clit to help hold you steady, his cock slowly slipping free of the clutch of your cunt.

You take a deep breath, try to find your body again. There’s a certain disorientation, soaked in spent pleasure, tilting your thoughts and skewing your senses, making everything seem so far away yet close at the same time.

The urge to find an anchor, to root yourself, pulls to the forefront.

Lifting a shaking hand, you sift your fingers through his hair. “Frankie?”

His sigh against your neck is full of contentment, lips pressing soft kisses to the space just below your jaw. “Yeah, baby?”

Somehow, that’s enough, and your own contented sigh shifts the air. “Frankie.”

“Is that the only word you know now?”

His chest vibrates with laughter against your back, enough of a physical sensation to bring you down into your body even more, become aware of his teasing tone.

You lightly tug on his curls. “Fuck you.”

“That’s three, at least.”

Huffing a laugh at his obvious display of male pride, you pull out of his embrace to lean over the couch and take more weight off your trembling legs. “What did you do to me? I can barely stand.”

“What did I do to you? What did you do to me, I thought I was gonna pass out, you were choking my cock so hard.”

“Well, that was your own fault.” You arch your back slightly, stretching sore muscles.

His hands cups the curves of your ass, groaning when you instinctively spread your legs and bend lower. “You’re killing me, baby. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You shiver as his thumbs spread your pussy open, glide through your combined pleasure. “Hmm, well, that’s also your fault.”

“I see how it is, everything’s my fault all of a sudden.”

His playful, grumpy tone makes you grin, break character, straightening to turn around and kiss him firmly. He leans into it, arms coming around your back to hold you tight, his soft moan dusting over your cheek.

A few moments pass, moments that feel like forever and are gone too quickly at the same time, and when you pull away and meet his gaze, that beautiful, soft brown so warm with affection - for you - emotion stings the back of your throat.

Gently cupping his cheek, you stroke your thumb over one of those bare patches along his chin that his beard never grows into. “I mean it, Frankie. I’m sorry. I was angry at the world and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to -“

“Please, listen.” You hate to interrupt him but you need to get this out. He pauses, nods once, and you take a breath before you continue. “You’re what I want at the end of a bad day. I’ve had more fun with you than anyone else in my entire life. And I know I can trust you to always have my back, even if I don’t think I need the support. I know you’ll be there for me.”

Swallowing back against a suddenly tight throat, you give voice to the emotions that were boiling under the surface of your anger earlier in the evening. “It’s frustrating, being a woman. Sometimes it feels like society expects this impossible balance, like we’re supposed to be ladylike, pretty and soft and gentle and also strong but not too strong, like we’re supposed suck it up but also withstand the pressure.”

Sighing, you let your hands rest on his chest, drawing strength from the steady rise and fall beneath your palms. “I just… tonight I felt that, and I hate it so much. I don’t want to feel like that. I wanted to prove to those guys - to everyone - that I am strong enough. Even more. That I’m stronger than they want me to be.”

He looks at you, tiny crease forming between his brows. “I can’t say that I understand, not exactly. But I get that feeling of not being enough, of needing to prove yourself but hating that you feel like you need to at the same time.”

Right. Of course he does.

Everything he’s been through in the last few years, he probably understands better than most.

You lift a hand, press that crease between his brows flat with the pad of your thumb. “I know you do. But you don’t need to prove anything with me. You know that, right?”

His features soften, smile pulling at his lips. “I know. Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Even if I forget it sometimes.” Biting your bottom lip, you weigh your words, settle on what you hope is enough. “You make me happy, Frankie. Really, actually happy.”

He smiles for real, gaze warm and bright. “You make me happy, too.”

You pull him in for another kiss, trying to push everything you’re feeling into how your lips move with his, your hands curl into his hair and over his shoulders and down his sides and around his back.

It’s enough. Maybe more than.

A stronger tremble shivers down your legs and your knees buckle, pulling you and Frankie apart.

He deftly catches you around the waist, grinning. “I was that good, huh?”

Laughing, you shove his chest playfully and lean back against the arm of the sofa. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” A brief kiss to your forehead, then he’s stepping back, straightening his clothes and turning to walk out of the room. “Stay here, I’ll grab something to clean you up.”

Wrinkling your nose, you try to stand, fail and settle back on the sofa. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I know, and I support that.” He calls back over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner. “I’m a proud feminist, baby.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggling to yourself.

“Shit!”

His startled shout instantly wipes the smile off your face.

You pitch your voice so he can hear you. “What happened?”

A sigh that shakes with laughter. “Stepped on the peas.”

Your snorting laugh echoes as it drifts down the hallway, and you don’t really care how unladylike it sounds.

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