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scarlettmurphy · 4 months ago

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STARCROSSED PT3 +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT

logan and y/n — starcrossed in every universe. the forbidden love, the underlying emotions swallowing y/n whole as she sees the man older then her own father by a good century or so in love with the woman she hates and she finds herself in a situation she knows she’ll never be able to run from.

- content warning age gap (is legal) angst. swearing. explicit. comfort! drinking. sick. dirty humour. choking. drugs. comfort? body issues. implications of ed. nsfw. angst angst and angst..pairings: older!logan howlett x xavier!reader. logan howlett x jean grey? scott summers x ?

spoiler: my idea was to make this a bit happier.. mission failed ☹️

note this is part three to starcrossed, make sure you’ve read the first two first so it makes sense :) the angst is angsting and i’m a little scrambled for what direction to go with this.. sorry for the long wait 💕i’m a bit insecure about this piece because i had a little writers block so i really hope you like it! i was listening to silver springs on repeat! so you get the vibes ☹️☹️ enjoy reading and i know this super long, sorry !! 💗💗

tags — @faceache111 @malfoys-demigod @navs-bhat @dilfismz @thisbipuff-isaswiftie @twinky-wink @thewiselionessss @thecraziestcrayon @plasticbottleholder @awhoreforalotofshows @emily-b @jae48 @cxptainbuck @444st4rg1rl @iluvloganhowlett @luusecret @bratalina @penguinsravioli @aesthetic-lyss @capswife @cliffordmess @halepack2011 @1-800-local-whore @lonelytealover @deezsnurts @angelofthorr @badbishsblog @weallhaveadestiny @hizzielover @noventev @holysmokesmando @la-diabla1 @sarnbarnes @lunalixya @danicl25

[i hope u like it!]

logan hadn’t moved an inch the entire night — you could’ve assumed he was a statue with how trained he was just to focus on y/n. every movement she made, every little occasional whimper or noise that escaped her sweet lips as she slept. his mind was spinning with thoughts as he bit down on his cheek mentally battling with himself as he thought to scott’s words that he had yelled at him a few hours before and what he said being enough to hit him with the small reality that the girl in front of him could of seen him in a way that he hadn’t completely processed or imagined was a possibility. scott’s words ringing in his mind as he has spent the entire night tossing and turning in the bed trying to dissect what he exactly meant by them, and he’d gotten an idea.

an idea he didn’t wanna admit to himself even though all his thoughts linked back to it. he swallowed it deep down, his heart beat quickening as he wondered over the thoughts circling in his mind. he was certain something was growing in him after knowing the knowledge a strong feeling taking over all his urges. maybe it was fear, he was pretty sure it was and he hated the feeling. in every way.

amd it was be caused by y/n. he knew it no matter how much he didn’t wanna admit that his friend, the girl that was a good 150 and something years younger then him was causing. the professors daughter— he had practically just got here two years ago and he didn’t need to be stirring up shit with charles because off his daughter who was practically underage, especially in his eyes. logan swallowing as he slowly come to the terms that the little girl, in his eyes who hardly looks that little anymore, next to him could see him in a completely different way. a way he never thought would be something in her mind.

slowly the time passed as light slowly dawned into the room which shone a sweet reflecting on y/n’s face as her skin soaked up the sunlight as logan brung his gaze up to the ceiling, his thoughts getting too much to bare as he leant into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. hating the fact it was so hard for him to control, fighting those feelings brewing in him as he slowly stood up from the bed being extra cautious to be quiet about it despite his big body making the bed quiver under him as he walked over to the window opening it slightly — a little extra cautious over y/n and smoking around her in this state as he looked back over to the view off her sleeping.

he hated how soft he was currently feeling because of her, the emotions stirring in him something he hadn’t even remembered ever feeling before. he felt like a big baby, smoking out the window all because of the kid. logan taking a big inhale as he watched the sun come up. soon enough finishing the cigar whilst overlooking the scenery,him finding himself stuck in thought as he leant against the wall as he brung his gaze back to y/n after throwing the put out butt out the window, his mind wracking around what just to do or if he should or leave or stay.

however, logan didn’t get the chance to decide when y/n’s eyes fluttered open as she tossed a little as the cover slid off her figure as she slowly woke up realising the fact she was still in the outfit from the night before as she could smell the faint bit of sick which made her let out a low groan as her mind was a complete blur, her being instantly met with a horrible headache as she buried her face into her pillow completely unbeknownst to logan’s presence. the headache only getting worse as she tried to recall what had happened the night before — the one downside of being a mutant of her power being the fact that hangovers hit like a wwe fighter would.

her mind stopping recalling anything after the time logan had walked away from the bar and left her with wade and hank — her mind slowly coming to terms with the shots.. the many shots.. the little burst of confidence she had as logan kept himself silent as he watched the girl stir awake not wanting to alert y/n off his presence just yet, deep down him knowing he wouldn’t of been able to speak anyway as he was too taken by her, not wanting to stop his little gawking as he watched her come to reality.

y/n’s heart felt as if it was burning as she recalled what she had seen with logan and jean — that hole inside her that was always lingering growing wider per second as she wished to suppress the memories now. god she wished she was more blackout then she had been. her mind feeling like a very hazy floaty mess as did her body currently.

y/ns mind bringing itself onto the little run she had out the mansion, hangover anxiety flowing over her as she felt her face heat up at the memory as her heart flipped at the thought of what she swore she could recall about scott of all people being nice? to her? at that she rolled out a little curse under her breath as she fought to keep her eyes closed against the pillow as all she wanted was so be swallowed hole as the heart ache that truly had never left and was only pushed to the side last night felt harsher then ever at the faded image off logan she had in her brain as she swallowed, her stomach making a loud gurgle noise as she felt the sick feeling coarse back up from her.

with that logan couldn’t be quiet anymore, him taking a step and just with the sound of his footsteps that made y/n open her eyes and look up as she met logan’s gaze from across the room herself instantly jumping as she felt completely fucked from the night before and his presence was the last thing she needed.

“y/n—“ logan spoke quietly, some of his emotion present within his tone as he immediately swallowed that back down, stomaching a smile in her direction as he made his way over to the edge of the bed. “are you okay?” he added out in an almost rushed way as y/n’s heart pounded as fast as her head was in the moment as she looked at him — her not even wanting to even know how bad she must’ve looked right now as she shook her head.

her low words coming out as fast as she had probably ever spoken before, “i think im going to be sick.” she rolled out under her breath, her words coming out in a heavy whisper as she quickly got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. y/n fighting the blurry feeling that overtook her vision as she knelt down to the bathroom toilet — her dizziness just making the sick worse as she leaned down to the toilet bowl as she let it come out. logan running after her the second she stood up that worried feeling growing as he stood at the door watching as she knelt down.

“fucking hell.” he cursed out under his breath as he spoke gruffly as he took a few steps over to her as he knelt down beside her as she was sick. his face forming a harsh grimace as he bit down on his tongue as his large hand fell to her back as he tried to soothe her as he looked away as she was sick again. him swallowing as he tried to control his anger that was growing in the bottom of his stomach for the state she had gotten in, pushing down scott’s words that lingered in his mind along with the question of why you would drink yourself into that state as if he didn’t already know the answer deep down.

“i’m gonna fucking kill hank and wade.” logan rumbled out as a gruff sigh escaped his lips as he took in y/n’s shakiness. hating how she must’ve felt in the moment as he moved his hand up and down her spine as she let out a shaky breath. the comfort making y/n’s hurt inside grow more and more as she stumbled out a quick, “i’m never drinking again.”

her words making a low chuckle escape logan’s lips as he nodded slowly his hand not moving as he used his other hand to move some of her hair behind her ear in a swift motion that only reminded y/n off a bit more from last night as she was sick again. logan swallowing down his anger and feelings as he knew he had to be there for her right now.

“—it’s just a bad hangover bub.” logan calmly stated, his thoughts becoming nothing but void to him as he had all his worry’s right now on her as he watched as she leaned down a little to the toilet bowl, him being able to tell how out of it she was still just by that action as currenlty y/n’s mind was a mixture of haziness and hurt as the words she was trying to mumble out got cut off by that sick feeling again which she swallowed right back down as she fought with herself.

“—‘m never had one like this before.” she cursed out before being sick yet again as his hand lingered on her lower back as he could hear the fear in her voice, a protective feeling growing all through his body he knew exactly what that meant for himself and he hated it which is why his voice sounded a little cold as he moved his hand off her, leaning a little closer to her as he grabbed a small cloth for her to use in a second before placing that on the side next to them.

his hand moving back over to her hair as he made sure it wasn’t getting in her face at all as his cold words hit the air, “that’s what happens when you take shots all night, especially the amount you and wade were taking.”

y/m swallowed roughly as she could overhear his change in tone which made her feel like even more a mess as she spoke up shakily, “sorry—“ and with y/n’s words logan felt a flurry of guilt within him as he shook his head releasing the harshness he was showing which he didn’t even mean too as he sighed.

“don’t be.” he eventually spoke up, his words falling to a cold room as he watched as y/n leant back a little his hands following her as she leant against the wall. his had sipping off her waist as he swept his touch away and grabbed the cloth he had gotten ready for her so she could wipe her mouth. swallowing as she took it from his grip as y/n felt her self pity growing just by seeing his darkened eyes on her as she wiped her mouth with the cloth gently. herself feeling completely disgusting.

y/n watching as logan flushed the toilet to get rid of all the sick that was in there whilst y/n sat there swallowing down her self pity, hating how everything was feeling. being sick here in front of him of all people. she’d rather scott be here, probably even jean, god why wasn’t scott here? why was logan here? what was he doing in her bedroom?

her mind was boiling with questions as she brung her eyes to his own, her gaze locking on his soft brown eyes with that everso hint of green within them that just reminded her of everything she loved about him. the hint off melancholy she always viewed in his gaze still there which just made the pull he had in her twenty million times stronger as it always had been as she couldn’t help the little nervous smile that grew on her lips as she nervously chuckled with her feelings enlaced within her action.

“god i’m a mess.” she retorted out, logan playfully tapping her shoulder at her words as his touch lingered against her skin as he kept his gaze on her.

— “least you’re a pretty one.” he replied almost immediately with a teasing smile showcased on his lips as he grabbed the cloth from her hand and put it over the toilet, y/n swallowing her feelings. his words hit y/n like a heavy, full of metal and being thrown at her by magneto, truck as she could just picture the blush that grew on her face from one silly meaningless comment from him she shouldn’t read too much since she didn’t have a good track record with that especially since what she roughly recalled him doing yesterday as she swallowed due to his words as she could still feel his touch on her own even if it wasn’t there.

the yearning in her practically breaking as she felt that tension stir in her stomach as her brain told her one thing yet her heart was aching to be nothing like she has been for the last two weeks to him no matter how much she shouldn’t be as she kept her gaze on him.

y/n was struggling to find the right words with so many question in her brain and luckily logan instead did for her after the moment of silence had passed, him swallowing roughly before doing so, “you okay now?” his words low as he felt the tension grow in the air silently battling himself from creating it within himself too as logan’s eyes studied y/n as he kept himself knelt down in front of the girl who was sat on the floor — not wanting to leave her side but knowing he should. knowing he shouldn’t be like this with her now, here.

her managing a nod back, “should be.”

her low words caused a feeling to grow in him, ”you will be kid,” he corrected, giving her a serious look.

y/n finding this tension and almost awkwardness grow between the two of them as she moved her gaze away from him, sitting up a little as she soon found her words. “what are you doing here?” she couldn’t help ask, “i don’t remember why.”

logan roughly sighed with her words as he stood up, looking down at her as he went over and leaned against the door. needing the distance between them for his own peace of mind as he spoke after she had finished. “i couldn’t leave you alone last night. i was worried after seeing how drunk you were.”

his words were like a little shock of realisation for y/n as she nodded over the obviousness of it as she moved her gaze onto him, her eyes casted onto him from across the room. hating the weirdness that was growing them as she noted how much it was coming from him. she’d most definitely have to remember soon or else it would be time to dive into someone’s mind.

“i remember scott being here but not you.” she muttered out as logan nodded at her words.

“yeah. well we were both helping.” logan blurted out under his breath, sounding a little pissed off as he opened the bathroom door, “you should shower— i’ll go get you something to eat.” the built up tension and guilty thoughts in his mind eating half the words he wanted to say.

“food might sent me over the edge.” y/n mumbled out lowly, logan knowing the truth underlying her words as he swallowed his own spit feeling those feelings thrive within him as he sighed at the girl who he hadn’t really seen eat a meal if it wasn’t some weird protein recipe, he recalled jean used to have all the time, for the past four months.

“well— just shower okay?” he grunted out as y/n nodded in reply as he closed the bathroom door behind himself. y/n soon hearing her bedroom door close a few seconds later as she let out a rough exhale as she felt like the weight fell right off her shoulders — instantly curling herself into a tiny little ball as she rested her head on her knees as she tried to recall everything as her head pounding just grew worse. rough was not enough to describe the mental and physical anguish she was feeling right now, her having blacked out most of the night and that specific fact irritated her to another level as she knew she’d have to go find scott and get what he knew out of him.

another embarrassing conversation with a guy she never saw eye to eye with and thought was a little bit off a stuck up mug who turned out to be the nicest thing ever to her last night — to say she was embarassed was an understatement as she eventually dragged herself into the shower as she pondered over all the things she knew.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the shower was too much and too little, the burning water against her skin making her feel a number of things as the pain brung her to the surface of reality as her mind bubbled within the surface of everything as the pain of the water against her soft skin quieted the pain in her heart and mind - her hair falling against her back as the water swallowed her skin whole.

her breath shaky as the tears that slipped down her cheeks were just water dripping down her to any other’s eyes, would’ve gone unnoticed, as she eventually finished her shower after a few ten or so minutes of soaking up all the emotions within the air that had been left and abandoned on that swing set she had the faint recollection off from last night.

y/n wrapping the towel around herself as she pushed through the bathroom door as she made her way through her room as she slid into the first thing she saw in her wardrobe. jeans and a red top - the basic of the basic — as she didn't even want to look in the mirror for fear of what she looked like but she bit that urge down and went right over to the mirror, over analysing every inch off herself as she tried not to let that feeling grow inside her because she knew she had things to do. tearing her eyes away from the mirror as she made her way out her room.

avoiding the glances she was getting from some students as she tried to forget her thoughts as she completely pushed past her discomfort on her way towards scott’s room, it of course being the biggest one in the mansion, y/n knocking on the door as she swallowed her own spit as the door opened revealing a stressed looking jean whose eyes instantly darkened at the sight of the girl.

just meeting the older woman’s gaze sent a chill down y/n’s spine as she definitely didn’t expect to see her and wasn’t ready to in the mind state she currently possessed. that feeling off jealously, aching, yearning and a mixture of pain swelling up through her mind and body as she saw the pure confusion that overtook jean’s face at her presence.

jean’s eyebrows furrowing as she leant against the doorframe, arms crossed, “y/n?” she questioned, her voice full off confusion as y/n felt the tension rise between them.

“hi.” y/n rolled out as she gave jean a little nod off greeting as she fought back the hurt within her at just how she looked so perfect this early as she held back her emotions with a small very fake smile, “is scott here?”

“you want too see scott?” jean asked puzzled, y/n seeing the weird look riddled on her face as she nodded slowly.

“yeah, well i need too.” y/n trailed out, seeing the way jean’s confusion grew as her jaw clenched. her seemingly jealous over this as y/n watched as her tongue clicked to the root of her mouth as she nodded slowly.

“scott!” jean called out into the bedroom when she leaned back, looking into the room where y/n couldn’t see as she felt just how awkward it was right now. y/n’s eyebrows furrowing as jean called for him again, her voice raising more as there was a faint sound of water turning off. probably the shower. then what followed was the found of a door opening, y/n’s eyes remaining on jean as she watched as she took a step back and opened the door some more as scott stepped next to her.

y/n’s eyes falling onto a very shirtless half naked scott, a towel wrapped lowly around his waist as y/n instantly swallowed harshly as she took in the sight.

his v-line showing as there was still water droplets dripping down his very toned abs — y/n immediately being taken aback by seeing scott like that as she felt her stomach flutter as she swallowed harshly once again — his hair was wet and messy and he had just shaved clearly. y/n taking in the new stubble as his new look made many things switch in her brain as he met y/n’s gaze after she had eventually looked to his face and not his abs, that not exactly being something she wanted to do.

“y/n?” scott exclaimed, his words somewhat a question as jean took a step back as she sent y/n a look scott didn’t pick up on due to his eyes only being on her as jean disappeared into the bedroom. scott taking a step forward as the door went with him, him standing between the door and her as she swallowed again finding herself sort of at a loss for words. him leaning against the doorframe as y/n’s eyes cascaded up and down him yet again as she roughly swallowed at the sight.

that’s when she caught glimpse of something, her eyes falling on a certain wound on his side, her eyebrows instantly raising as she practically forgot about how hot he was when she realised the cut. leaning over to get a better view off it as she took in the evident claw marks that looked like it hurt like a bitch, logan clearly having done that — the blood practically still fresh and she could feel her blood boil at the thought.

“what the?” y/n instantly let out as she took the cut in as she leaned a little closer to look at it, “why—?”

“i hurt him back.” he said lowly, y/n giving him a knowing look as that was probably the most scott thing he could’ve said as she leaned back to where she was standing before. a weird feeling growing within her as she scoffed.

“obviously— but why the hell did he do that for?” y/n managed out as she questioned him, scott taking a breath before looking back into the bedroom and swallowing. a weirdness growing between the pair as y/n’s eyes couldn’t help fall back and linger on his abs as he looked away before she met his eyes before she got caught doing so.

“just, let me get dressed and then we’ll talk.” scott thought out as y/n had to hold herself back from making a stupid comment as she nodded, about to speak up when scott did instead.

“meet me at the swings. but it might smell like sick.” scott rolled out slyly, a little playful hint to his words as y/n rolled her eyes.

“ha.ha.” y/n said sarcastically as scott couldn’t the grin grow on his lips as y/n turned on her heel.

“—i’ll be there in five!” he called after her.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n went right over to the swings as little faded memories popped back into her brain regarding these swings and her last encounter on them as her brows furrowed up in confusion as her mind lingered on the thoughts as scott came down the courtyard. y/n’s eyes drawing onto him wearing a cable knit sweater like usual, this one being a dark shade of red almost matching with her top, as she kept her gaze on him as couldn’t help but smile.

“he was being an asshole like usual.” scott swiftly let out as took his seat next to her on the swing, pushing himself of it a bit as y/n’s eyes followed him as she leaned against the chain — the sun shining down on the courtyard, a vast difference from the night before.

“—mm i think i need a bit more then that.” y/n said softly as scott couldn’t help the smirk grow on his lips at her words.

“well what do you remember?” he replied back cockily, making a shiver of anxiety coarse through her as a little uncomfortable feeling dawned over her as she shrugged her shoulders, “a whole lot of drinking, then i remember you and me sat here but not much off what i said, must’ve been something stupid.”

scott raised an eyebrow at her words as he bit the bullet in telling her the truth, swallowing before he spoke up.

“your love for logan isn’t stupid. like mine for jean’s isn’t.” he whispered honestly, y/n feeling his words sink in harshly as she found all the urges to speak get swept away from her as she roughly swallowed. the tension growing within the air as y/n felt her heart beat twenty times faster and feel like it was breaking.

“you can’t help who you love.” he added out, y/n feeling his gaze as she eventually turned her eyes to him only to look right back away.

she couldn’t bring herself to glance one more time his way as she looked over at the mansion as she felt the weight of conversation dawn on her heavily as the uncomforbaility grew in her at just the thought of scott knowing how much she did like love logan. y/n’s eyes dropping down to the floor as she finally spoke up after a couple twenty or thirty seconds of silence, “i want too though, it’s not like i wanna love him.” y/n lowly whispered out before she took a pause, feeling the weight bare on her again as she tried to speak about something else to avoid saying anything more heart wrenching and slightly embarrassing which made herself feel worse,”—and i’m sorry you had to hear whatever i rambled out last night.” scott’s eyes lingering on her with her words before he tore his eyes away towards the mansion.

he could practically feel her heart ache as if it was burning into him and he couldnt help the sad smile spread on his lips as he knew how much it hurt first hand, so he wanted to make her feel better. “no—it was sort of enjoyable.” scott said lowly, making y/n’s eyebrows raise in interest as she finally met his gaze. his words being different from the sad ones he spoke before as their eyes locked on each other.

“sorry does me being a crying drunk mess entertain you?” y/n said lowly, her voice rooted in low sarcasm as scott chuckled.

“no it’s just you’re a lot sweeter when you’re shitfaced.” scott brung himself to say as y/n’s eyebrow twitched up, giving him a little look as she felt her heart skip a beat — her eyebrows raising at his statement as his words made her forget for a moment the manner of this conversation.

“hey i can be sweet sober.” y/n scoffed out, her words causing scott to raise an eyebrow in a playful manner.

“yeah, what? to logan?” his low words made her roll her eyes as scott chuckled as y/n leaned over her swing and nudged his shoulder harshly before she moved her swing back — the playful energy that had grew between them making her feel comfortable.

“shut up.” y/n scoffed out as scott laughed a little harder nudging her back before y/n couldn’t help a little laugh too as she met his gaze.

“so you and jean this morning?” y/n couldn’t help ask which made scott let out a low sigh as y/n pushed on it a little more with a smile at his reaction, ”—not so done after what i saw..?” she trailed out, giving him a look.

scott grimaced a little at the memory / reminder of it as he swallowed, his voice low with anger enlaced within it as he spoke a bit coldly. “oh no, we’re done. engagement rings back.”

y/n’s mouth fell agap as she met scott’s gaze, her heart twitching and almost stinging for the man as she raised an eyebrow — shock being the only feeling she was experiencing right now. “you were engaged?” she managed out, scott nodding as y/n clicked the tongue to the root of her mouth. there was never a ring she could of spotted on either of the, but that knowledge made the situation ten times worse in her brain, her mind toggling on jean’s face from this morning as all she currently wanted to do was go punch the bitch. as if she hadn’t wanted to do that for the past two years anyway, this just made the urge slightly uncontainable.

“god she’s a bitch.”

scott lowly laughed as she nodded, “yeah you said that last night.”

her face went a little shade of red at his words, “they say drunk words are sober thoughts.” he added out and y/n couldn’t help the smile growing on her lips as she nodded, shrugging her shoulders.

“i definitely wasn’t wrong.” she said lowly as scott held back a little wince as he swung back on his swing a little, eyes moving back over to the view in front of the pair as y/n spoke up again, “she did look fuming today.”

scott rolling his eyes at the fact, “probably because she was wanting to be with logan —“ he said before he paused realising the weight of his words for y/n, “no offence.”

y/n let out a little laugh at scott’s words trying to ignore the burning sensation in her throat and the hurt that traveled down her chest right to her heart and through her core as she shrugged her shoulders. “yeah i’ll get over it.”

scott couldn’t help the sadness the etched on his face as moved a little, letting out small wince that grabbed y/n’s attention as she looked at him. her eyes falling to where the cut was on his side as his hand rested over it as he leaned up, y/n speaking up, “it hurts still?”

“horribly.” scott muttered out as he tried to sit comfortably, y/n swallowing before she leaned her swing to his — placing her hand over his chest which caused him to jump a little as she placed her hand over where his just laid. “—woah— what are you doing?” he ushered out quickly with her action as she placed her hand exactly over where the cut was.

“just shush.” she rolled out as her hand hovered over the claw marks logan had left as she closed her eyes — ignoring his question as he studied her expression, swallowing as he held back a wince at how her hand was on his side.

her not saying anything more as scott kept himself shut, his mouth falling open as he felt her hand move against his cut and he noticed the way the veins in her arm riveted against her skin as he swallowed as he figured what she was doing. seeing the purple gleam that highlighted through her skin as he felt the pain slowly subside until it completely faded, his stomach flipping and his heartbeat rising as his chest did as he took in a big exhale as he realised exactly what she had just done.

her eyes opening as she leaned over to him, slowly pulling up his shirt to check on the cut as he let her do so as he felt his breath hitch as her hand lingered on the top of his smooth and now cut and bruise free skin as she then went to lean back onto her swing, meeting his eyes as she gave him a little smile.

“there.” y/n said lowly, her words falling out softer then intended as scott smiled at her - their eyes locking onto each others as she brung her hand away but scott stopped it from doing so. his hand grabbing her wrist softly as y/n felt frozen at his touch as he kept his eyes trained on her. the contact they were having making her feel the feelings of butterflies in her stomach as she swallowed . “better?” y/n spoke into the air, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, yeah— really better.” scott swallowed out as he brung himself to speak, his gaze not leaving her own as he kept his smile tightly on his lips. “thank you.” he managed out, y/n’s heart flipping as he dropped her wrist which made her lean back into her swing, her eyes dawning back onto the mansion as her swing swung a little.

“its cool.”

her words were weighted as scott looked down to his chest as he overviewed where the cut once was which was completely clear, “i forgot you could do that.”

her eyes fell back over to scott at his words as she swallowed, “yeah i hardly do it.”

her watching as scott pulled down his shirt, fidgeting in the swing as he couldn’t help curiosity strike in him as he turned to her direction, “does it hurt for you when you do it?”

she didn’t expect him to ask that question as she shrugged her shoulders, “well i heal right away.” y/n spoke up as she nudged her shirt up a little to check, scott’s eyes dawning on the cut that was fading into her skin which was just the one he had. his eyebrow raising at the image in his head as she brung her shirt right back down.

“either way it’s bearable.” her added words made scott shift in his seat as he held back what he really wanted to say instead swallowing those words right back down as he decided on teasing her.

“you took my pain from me — are you starting to like me finally?” he questioned out, raising an eyebrow at her playfully, “i thought the day would never come” his words making her roll her eyes as she held back the urge to push him off the swing or blush heavily.

“i can give it right back to you.” y/n defended lowly, making him hold his hands up in defence.

“hey, no. i’m good—“

“but i do have to say something which might make you wanna kill me.” he added out which made y/n’s eyebrows raise as she crossed her arms, her eyes on him as she swung her swing around so it was facing him. her body moving along with it as she leaned against the bar. him taking this as her immediate question to why as he spoke up before she got the chance.

“i’m pretty sure logan knows.”

with his words y/n’s eyebrows instantly furrow as she swallowed the pit growing in her stomach as she bit on her tongue to stop herself from freaking out.

“has that got anything to do with the cut?” she asked out, scott nodding before he butted it to try and explain it — “look he might not know completely, i just said that he should be careful about how you feel after i said a few things about him fu— with jean.” scott ushered out quickly pausing a little over jean as y/n tried to hold back the growing anger in her body at the reminder of jean which made her feel a little guilt about how she handled the situation she saw in last night and how she must’ve said it to scott or something as if logan with his fiancé- or should she say ex fiancé- would mean nothing to him. y/n didn’t even wanna remember it due to the mental picture she was gathering as she swallowed, the twos heartache being prominent within their conversation now.

“it was a heat of the moment thing, i did just lazer him.”

with those words y/n couldn’t help a laugh fall her lips in disbelief at how controlled that must’ve been for him to do as she smiled at him, actually finding herself quite glad off that fact, “you lazered him?”

“yes and he was whining like a baby.” scott rolled out emphasising the whining as y/n’s smile grew.

“what the hell was i doing when that was happening?” she couldn’t help ask as scott couldn’t help a laugh as he kept his eyes on her, “oh you were snoring by then.”

“i do not snore.” she quickly bit lowly in reply, scott sensing her stubbornness over the topic immediately as he pushed on it.

“do you need me to let you read my mind to prove you do?”

“i do not s—“ y/n lowly spoke but before she could finish her words the presence of bobby in front of her cut her words short as her face went a bright shade of red at her friend in front of her who she hadn’t even noticed walking over to them — a smirk present on his face at the little idea he formed in his head from just seeing the two here alone.

“hey scott— professors asking for you.” bobby said calmly with his hands in his pocket, his eyes moving between the two of them aa scott turned his attention to bobby silently cursing in his head for him coming over here.

he sighed as he looked back over to y/n, “duty calls.”

“update me on if you need that.” scott teased out slyly as he stood up from the swings before giving bobby a nod as he passed him, bobbys eyes dawning on y/n as his eyebrows instantly raised once he looked back to check if scott was out of ear shot, the second he noticed he wasn’t instantly turning on y/n.

a little smirk on him slaps as she crossed his arms, looking at her.

“please tell me y/n, what do you need?” bobby rolled out playfully in a very obvious tease as y/n rolled her eyes as she stood up.

“god please go annoy rogue or kitty and not me.” she cursed out which made bobby scoff as he went to her side as she was walking, giving her a nudge.

“so you and scott?” he rolled out as y/n nudged him back which nearly sent him over as she scoffed in reply to his words.

“just bonding over heartache thank you very much.” she added out softly, bobby regaining his balance as he kept his position alongside her. eyes cascading over y/n as he shook his head.

“—mm, sure.” bobby teases out as his eyes glanced over the mansion as they got closer to it, his eyes swearing they could make out a logan looking from one of the windows. ams the second body noticed that the figure disappeared, him shaking the idea out his mind as he went back to focusing, teasing, y/n.

bobby finally dropped the scott thing after a long and slightly annoying repeat tease about it as they walked about the mansion just looking for something to ease their boredom on this very lonely sunday which wasn’t so lonely until bobby has snapped scott away with orders from her dad which left her with him, yet not for long as the second he saw rogue he left y/n, scurrying away after rogue like a lost puppy.

the second bobby left y/n knew she wanted (and needed) to find logan somewhere with the new knowledge she had to just ask him why the hell he hurt scott for.. maybe it was bias but she did wanna know and have an excuse to try and get the fact he knew she liked him out of him in a way that didn’t make her have to say it. her mind practically squirming with thoughts of what he would do as she nonchalantly looked around the mansion. her mind thinking on what the best thing to say would be. maybe a little ‘maybe don’t fuck engaged people.’ or a little scream of ‘why the fuck did you hurt scott for?’ or maybe a desperate ‘please don’t hate me now you know i love you.’

y/n rolled her eyes at the comments she was making in her brain as she eventually gave up her search, slumping down on one of the lounge chairs in the living room as she pondered. her mind linking her thoughts back to logan with every aching possibility she got. she hated it, hated how much she was desperate to think off him. it made her feel so weak, weak to his every move as she overanalysed the conversation they shared in the morning.

thankfully, to stop her from going mad, hank came over to her with a bright smile on his face like usual as he slumped down onto the sofa.

“hey y/n.” he commented softly as he leant back onto the sofa, y/n’s eyes falling onto him as she gave hank a soft smile in reply as he fixed his glasses — his gaze on the ceiling as he swallowed.

“hi,” y/n said softly as she analysed hanks furrowed brows and the clear look off pure angst from his face as she held back a little laugh or chuckle as she commented, “the shots get to you too?”

with her words hank brung his eyes on her as he let out a shaky breath, “most definitely.”

y/n couldn’t help a smile at his words as she gazed around the room before looking back to hank, “hey have you seen logan around?” she couldn’t help but ask.

seeing the way hank thought for a second before he quickly nodded, y/n noticing the change in his demeanour just at the question.

“yeah, um. going into jean’s room.” he swallowed the strength to say out, his voice slightly thick.

with hanks words y/n instantly felt a lump in her throat form as she felt her heart drop, nodding softly at what he said as she bit back any sign of emotion being displayed on her face even though hank could read her like an open book.

the aching feeling in her heart was something she hid to her best ability and tried to ignore as much as she could as she rolled out her next words quickly, trying to sound as if she didn’t care at all, “cool.” her words fell out so blatantly obvious that it was insanely obvious to hank she cared entirely.

—

but, thankfully hank didn’t ask you any questions or even dwell on what you asked for the rest of your brief conversation that lasted a good five or so minutes before you excused yourself to go up to your room and cry yet you told simply told him ‘the gyms calling me.’ which had been the biggest lie you had said to him in a long time and he definitely didn’t believe you.

but once you got in your room it felt like it made matters worse, the faint jeff buckley vinyl you had playing in the background making your yearning feelings even stronger as you thought off all the things that could be going on right now between the two of them. you hated it, you couldn’t deal with it anymore. two weeks ago you had decided to give up on it, as if you actually did, but you tried. and now that scott knew and you had someone to talk to about it it seemed all the way worse.

your yearning not being cut off for the entire rest off the night and it didn’t help that it was like logan had gone into hiding. another search of the mansion and he wasn’t anywhere and you were certainly not asking jean so you had to wallow in your thoughts off him as you went back to your room. repeating the same cycle of looking before bed, which only made you certain he had to still be in jean’s room. still. great.

and within the next day you still hadn’t seen him once, scott had said he was acting odd and not to push on it just yet but you could hardly contain your emotions anymore. him being gone making all off it worse because it was at his will, not yours. you didn’t even see him once.

and by wednesday that was when you knew you had to capture him somewhere alone. having seen him a good four or five times around the mansion now where he blatantly ignored or blanked you and that just made everything worse and scott’s nice words of comfort weren’t helping you one bit. it felt like it was making it all worse, seeing how fucked you were over him being so cold to you. it made you feel sick, you weren’t pushing him away he was pushing you away and you didn’t even know why. you craved his words, even if they were horrible you just wanted to hear him directly talk to you and you’re like this after only four days without talking.

the glances to each other in the hallway killed you mostly, every time it like he was tearing your heart up because he looked back every single time yet kept his mouth shut and immediately glanced away once he had shared his beauty to you. it was like a game now, trying to dissect the emotions in his eyes. but you never could. all you gathered was a look you narrowed down to feeling lost, or even confused. you didn’t get it. at all.

your yearning was at the highest volume especially after seeing him leave jean’s room this morning. that practically destroyed you and you didn’t know why he had such high control of you, you needed to get over it but you couldn’t. you just couldn’t. it was hurting to even breath, every breath feeling weighted as you laid on rogues bed after just having an entire bitch about it. her now knowingness of the situation making you feel better but her comfort hardly was there as all she was going on about was what costume to wear to the halloween party.

that making you feel a number of feelings, mostly annoyance as you swallowed roughly as she hung up a costume on her door.

“i wanna be riding hood. the red cloaks good for that.” rogue said softly, y/n sitting up at her words as her eyes dawned over to the costume hanging on the door. two days to go and rogue was still trying to find an outfit and a matching one for her best friend.

“what could you be?” rogue questioned out, almost to herself, as she looked over her costume then back to y/n.

“a pig.” y/n scoffed out as rogue rolled her eyes at her comment as she walked back and took in her own costume trying to match something to it. y/n watching as rogues brain tried to fall on something and it was almost like magic when it did. her eyes lightening up as she ran right over to her closet and started searching through it.

“what?” y/n asked out as rogue buried her head into it, throwing out a few things that made y/n’s eyebrows raise in confusion.

“you are going to be matching with me so good that we would win if there was a competition.”

with rogues words y/n’s eyes dawned on the thing rogue was holding in her hand as she shut the wardrobe behind her as she leaned against it.

“cat ears?” y/n muttered out confusedly as her eyebrows furrowed up in confusion as rogue scoffed.

“it’s red riding hood!” rogue retorted as y/n linked two with two, her eyes widening as she immediately shook her head.

“no! wolf? wolf! you’re joking,” she scoffed out quickly watching as rogue kept a straight face which only made her go on more,”—have you not listened to anything your best friends just been screaming about for the past thirty minutes!?”

the room fell silent as rogue pouted, holding out the ears for y/n to take.

“y/n! please, nobody will care. it’s not even about him!”

her words only annoyed y/n more as she went to talk but rogue instantly shushed, placing her finger to her lips as y/n edged back.

“cmon! you’re my best friend and i need you on this. it’s going to be hot! think of that.” rogue dragged out with a sly smile as she kept the cat, wolf, ears for y/n out to grab still waving them about impatiently.

“i know you’re going to say yes.” she rolled out as she took in the way y/n was looking at her. y/n swallowing her pride before she snapped the ears out her grip.

“fuck you.” y/n let slip as rogue cheekily smiled in return, “you wish.”

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

after that entire ordeal y/n slipped out of rogue’s company to join in with training, walking down the halls and towards the elevator being enough alone time for her as the second she was left alone with her thoughts she was right back on overthinking every single thing about logan and herself. her mind tracking back to what scott had recalled to her and how he mustn’t have been saying the entire truth to her because why else was logan being like this for? so distant, it just made y/n wanna dissect every inch of logan or scott’s mind and get to the bottom of it. that’d be easier then all this pondering.

and in training it showed how y/n was off it, her slacking in every way possible which immediately let scott know how much she was affected by the logan situation today. as they both got ‘killed’ from the training exercise they were doing which made the two of them sit over by the sidelines whilst they’d have to watch the others. y/n mind currently lingering on the one word logan had said to her in the past span of the past four days. a blunt, ‘move’ which he said right before the hologram off a training robot was about to kill her and the second she moved and he had ‘sorted” it out he walked off like she was never anything to him and he didn’t look back once or say another word.

it hurt her too the bone and the list of questions she had was never ending now, the aching feeling worsening per second in the same room as him as her eyes wondered on him as she watched as he trained.

scott looking at how deep in thought she was making his own heart hurt as he felt the guilt rise in his, for not addressing logan and how she must’ve been feeling. the tension coating through y/n at a high point as scott got the courage to speak and break the looming silence.

“finally that’s over.” scott scoffed out lowly which brung y/n out the staring contest she was having with the floor as she sighed at scott’s words, giving him a nod in return as she slouched back a little. scott noticing her somewhat closeness as he placed his arm around her, trying to be a comfort, as she leaned against his touch almost instantly. her head falling down to rest on his shoulder as she felt the weights of her emotions falter a bit at scott’s comforting touch.

something she’d almost started to get used to within the past couple days since those swings had become a meeting place for them late at night, if they wanted to rant.. or couldn’t sleep, they’d go there and talk. last night it was for a good hour or two, maybe three.

“i just wanna go to sleep.” y/n brung herself to speak up, her voice hoarse as scott sighed with her words. his touch tightening on her yet his grip was still as soft as ever as he placed his chin against her forehead.

“rough day?” scott asked quietly, his voice slipping out lowly into her ear as y/n nodded against his touch.

“rogues making me be a wolf for the party.” she cursed out.

“god.” scott chuckled out, finding that stupid and horrible at the same time as he moved his hand up and down y/n’s shoulder as his eyes lingered on the training scene that was soon to being over. scott catching logan’s cold gaze for a moment before logan looked away with a stern look on his face like usual.

scott ignoring it as he spoke up, “you should’ve done the group costume with me. padme suits you.”

“i wish i did but i can’t now bobby’s not going and rogues relying on me. it’s stupid.” y/n shuddered out, her voice low as she felt annoyed at the thought.

“i know.” scott replied, shifting his body slightly closer to her owns. “swings again tonight?”

he asked softly, y/n nodding against him as she was about to speak up when the hologram switched off. her eyes adjusting to the blue large room that dawned on her as scott leaned back, keeping his hand around her as she slipped back into his grip as she leant up — her eyes watching logan’s from across the room, as that feeling arised in her chest.

“i say go trap him.” scott spoke up which made her jump out little staring contest she was having with him as she moved her gaze onto scott, shaking her head plainly.

“i don’t even know if i wanna speak to him after how cold he’s been, he’s a hairy prick.” y/n cursed out under her breath as scott laughed.

“that’s bull and you know it.” scott spoke, knowing y/n all too well as he nudged her. “go.”

“it’s not like i even want him anymore. i just wanna scream at him for hurting you and being such a cunt.” y/n half lied out, her voice harsher at the thought of getting to speak to him, as she held back what else she wanted to say and stuck with that idea to keep her sanity as strong as it could be. scott not commenting on what she said despite how badly he knew it to not be the truth as he gave her a little smile, the low laugh escaping his lips making her take a deep breath in.

“go do it. i’ll deal with the others so you two are alone.” scott rolled out as he tapped her shoulder to get her up which made a chill rush through her body as she swallowed her pride as she brung her eyes onto scott’s.

the smile on his lips convincing her to do it enough as she let the words escape her lips, “fine.”

with her words scott smiled as he let his hand around y/n’s shoulder drop, “go!” he ushered out as y/n rolled her eyes as she stood up and started to walk over to where logan was.

“thank me later.” scott called out to her before he got up himself , walking over to storm and hank who were in conversation with jean who were walking out the room. the perfect scenario.

scott’s eyes peaking back as he was about to leave the room with the others as he saw logan searching through his jacket , scott taking in y/n walking over strongly.

scott meeting y/n’s gaze as she looked back to him giving her a nod before he disappeared out the door with the others. which left y/n and logan in complete silence in the room as y/n watched as logan grabbed a cigar out his coat pocket after putting it on, her swallowing as she noted how he definitely didn’t notice she was still in here.

that fact just making her brain a little fuzzy as she pulled the courage to put her tough demeanour on, swallowing the heartache as she leaned against the wall next to him. logan’s eyes tearing onto hers at the movement he heard as he took in her appearance which haulted him lighting cigar and immediately haunted him. his eyes cascading over her body as he roughly swallowed before his gaze met her harsh, narrowed, eyes.

“you’ve been ignoring me.” y/n spoke out which completely captured his attention as her eyes didn’t leave his for a moment. the eye contact she was getting from him making her weak in every way but she kept herself strong, her eyes narrowed onto him as she watched as he raised an eyebrow at her words as he lit his cigar, taking a hit before he scoffed as the smoke left his lips, filling the room.

“no i haven’t.” he gruffly let out as he brung his gaze away from her as he started to walk off, past her. y/n scoffing as she went after him, taking a step in front of him to stop him going any further as his throat tightened at her action. his eyes falling back down to her own.

“im pretty sure you have.” y/n replied back stubbornly as he raised an eyebrow at her words, scoffing once again. the tension in the room completely shifted even to a heaviness that she hadn’t experienced before with him.

“mm—well you’ve been pretty busy with scott i didn’t think you’d notice too much.” logan rolled out harshly, his voice low and hoarse which sent a chill through y/n’s body as the weight off his words sunk in. her eyes widening as she instantly shook her head, tutting as she took in what the petty bastard just said as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat back down.

“and what the hell is that supposed to mean?” y/n quickly replied, her anger only rising at what he had said as she couldn’t believe what he had just told her. the words from him being slightly shocking as she took in the look that crossed his face as he shrugged his shoulders.

“you tell me sweetheart.” he growled out before he pushed past her, y/n’s mouth falling agap at his words as she sighed heavily. his words ringing in her head as she gulped. teleporting so she was in front of him which stopped him right as he was about to leave the door which made him jump a little. cigar smoke leaving his lips and going right into her face as he coughed out of surprise off her being there, being caught off guard by her action as she stayed frozen in place in front of himas she stepped forward thinking that would result in him stepping back. but it didn’t.

her holding back the urge to quiver back due to the closeness as she worked up the courage to speak, her eyes locked onto his as she lowly spoke up, “you hurt him.”

“who wouldn’t?” logan replied back gruffly, his jaw clenched as he almost laughed at the patheticness of what she had stated, the way she was trying to defend him making him feel a number of ways about the situation.

his words only angered y/n heavily as she kept her eyes narrowed onto his, questions running through her mind as she tried to keep her composure up as if the distance wasn’t killing hers inside. her breath hitching as his words caused her anger to rise as she took in just how rude he was being, this making her emotions grow inside of her breath brushed against his neck as she looked up at him. her heart stinging and she swore her eyes were too as she roughly swallowed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears as she bit down her pride and quickly spoke.

“did i do something?” she managed to say — her voice almost breaking at just that hint of hurt in her voice tore logan’s eyes away from her as those words fell into the air as she didn’t tare her eyes away from him once. seeing the way his face changed as she could hear his heartbeat crazily pumping and if she really thought close with her powers she could read his every though right now and that’d help her understand what he was feeling but she couldn’t do that to him ever. herself being mesmerised by the way his eyes looked as if they were watering as she added out, “you haven’t spoke to me in four days logan.”

her words met the air harshly as logan swallowed roughly as he took a rough inhale of his cigar in retaliation to what she had just said, looking to y/n coldly as he bit down all the emotion he was suppressing as he exhaled after. the silence deafening as she waited for anything, any answer. his face not giving anything away.

her searched his own as the silence grew before he eventually spoke up, which made everything worse.

“yeah and for good reason.” he replied lowly, y/n’s eyebrows twitching as she kept her gaze on his holding back a yell and the urge to punch him.

his harshness was enough to ruin her completely as she bit down on the inside of her cheek as she spoke up lowly, “and what is that?” y/n’s question failing to bring any peace to the two of them as logan grew angrier as he bit the bullet and quickly spoke up.

“ask scott since you care about him so much suddenly.” logan cursed out under his breath as he leaned over her and opened the door up, going to push past her.

“you’re fucking joking right?” she quickly said — the weight off his words hitting he as she placed her hand against his chest to stop him from moving anymore which just made his anger stronger as she roughly shoved him back. not meaning to that but it happened, his eyebrows raising at her action.

“watch it..” he said harshly, his voice gruff as he put out his half finished cigar against his skin, holding back any sign of hurt as he placed the rest off it back into his pocket. y/n studying every inch of his face with anger the only emotion showcased on hers as his eyes felt like they were taunting her.

her words coming out so quickly due to her growing annoyance, anger and hurt over the situation she couldn’t help herself, “maybe you should watch it since you can’t stop sleeping with someone that was engaged a good four days ago.”

the words that escaped her lips pushed logan to an extreme as his anger bursted as he felt all that pent up emotion he’d been hiding scream and claw its way out as he roughly grabbed her, pushing her against the wall harshly with a loud thud as his hand roughly wrapped round her throat.

“she was engaged to a cunt.” logan growled out, y/n seeing how seething he was as her breath hitched at their closeness. his grip only tightening on her neck as she held back any whimpers threatening to escape her lips as she kept her eyes locked onto his own, feeling his body pressed against her own as the heat rose between them.

“you do know if she cheated on him she’d cheat on you happily.” y/n harshly muttered out, her breath slightly hitched due to how harshly he was holding her against the wall. her words only pissing him off more as he stared her down, his fingers digging into her skin.

“you’ve just been aching to say something like that haven’t you? you hate her.” logan said rudely, his grip on y/n’s throat still heavy so much that it would defintely bruise. the closeness sending her body into a mixed frenzy as she grew angrier at everything he said. the tension in the air suffocating her. “you always have.” he spit out rudely.

“and whys that?” logan trailed out before giving y/n a chance to respond, his voice teasing as if he knew the answer already. his tone making her feelings worse as she couldn’t move her eyes away from him as she was close to practically gasping for air already due to how harshly he had her.

y/n roughly swallowed, logan’s hands tightly gripping her throat making all her feelings worse as she found the words, “i’m pretty sure scott’s told you something that could be a factor.” she cursed out sarcastically. his eyes darkening as she studied every inch of his expression.

he narrowed his eyes at her words his anger radiating off him as he kept his grip on her, biting down on his lip at her words as his eyes didn’t leave hers for a second. y/n reading all sort of emotions within them as the tension swallowed her whole. feelings she’d never felt before cowering through her as she couldn’t move an inch, practically frozen.

“that prick told me a whole lot of nothing.” logan harshly let out as y/n raised an eyebrow at his words, his hand on her throat slipping a little as his anger seethed as he spoke again no matter how much he didn’t want too say it.

“apparently you could’ve been hurt.” he spit out like it was venom, y/n’s eyes leaving his for a second at his words as she swallowed roughly. her action annoying logan senseless as her moved his hand roughly to her jaw, turning her face to look back up at him. her breath hitching at his action.

“so you were?” he casted out, his gaze not leaving hers for a second as his harsh eyes took all of her in.

“by what?—you and jean?” y/n mustered out harshly, his grip falling right back to her throat at the stupidness of her words as his grip was ten times tighter then it was before. y/n having never seen this harshness from him before, and to say she didn’t like it would be a lie.

“jesus don’t play dumb with me kid.” he shook out harshly, his words another level of harsh as heat flooded her body as he pushed himself closer to her as she was roughly held against the wall.

“what if i was?” y/n scoffed out seeing the flash off weakness in logan’s eyes before he swallowed, a scoff escaping his lips as the tightness around her neck loosened as she caught her breath.

it was like there was something working in brain as the words sunk in, y/n watching as he swallowed once again. moving his gaze away before roughly shaking his head, his hand slipping off her throat but the closeness was still there as he looked back to her. almost fighting with himself and y/n could read that all over his face.

“you’d be stupid because i love jean.” he grunted out coldly as his words hit her harshly as she tried to fight that feeling rising in her as she brung herself to nod, swallowing those words she so wanted to scream in his face right now.

“i know.” y/n spoke out lowly, not bringing herself to deny his words or even state anything about them regarding her as she felt the feelings of hurt take over her, her observing a hint of hurt in logan’s eyes as she felt the hole in her grow twenty million times bigger as she watched him take a step back— y/n biting down the emotions threatening to show as she looked at him. the tightness feeling still around her neck despite his touch no longer being present, something right now she was craving.

the air was thick with tension as y/n swallowed, not being able to look away from him, as she could see the look on his face. one of practical knowing, he could read through her half assed words.

“so why the hell did you ignore me for?” y/n roughly asked him as she changed the topic slightly, gaining control of her hitched voice again which was hoarse due to how logan had just been holding her throat. her voice enlaced with anger as she stared down at logan, him tearing his gaze away before shaking his head as he tried to form the words as he met her gaze again.

“you just��don’t—look i didn’t want to hurt you kid.” logan ushered out, y/n getting an idea of exactly what he meant by those words as she swallowed roughly as she fought to keep her gaze on him. the weight in the air horrible as the tension had switched to this sense of nervousness and awkwardness between them.

“you ignoring me hurt me.” y/n said harshly as logan swallowed as he teared his eyes away from y/n as he stepped back.

“i didn’t mean too.” he rolled out, fighting with the urge to do many things he just couldn’t as he looked over her. shaking the thoughts out his brain as he took in the look of hurt on her face, she wasn’t hiding well.

“sure.” y/n almost whispered out , the room falling silent as logan scoffed roughly at her words before shaking his head in retaliation as he then pressed the button to open the door, almost in a hissy fit as y/n’s eyebrows raised at his action.. “logan—“ she called out as he immediately left at her words as she went right after him without another thought.

“logan! wa-“ she called out, cutting off her own words and stopping in her tracks once she saw him standing in the hallway frozen. her gaze stuck on him until she observed where he was looking and followed his eyes until she landed on scott at the end of the hall, immediately swallowing roughly as logan’s eyes were locked onto his. the harshness present in his gaze and scott’s too as logan brung his dark gaze onto her.

y/n’s mind doing a huge spin as logan’s face held a cruel expression on it as he saw who was waiting for her, it being like another switch had flipped within him as y/n observed his jaw clenching and him biting down on his cheek as their eyes were on each other.

“think your boyfriends waiting for you bub.” logan muffled out rudely, his voice hoarse as he moved his gaze back onto scott giving him ome last glare before turning on his heel without another word and dissappearing down the hall. y/n scoffing at his words as she swallowed, debating going after him but her thoughts were stopped when she realised scott walking over to her.

“that didn’t go so well then?” scott commented softly, his eyes meeting her own as she shook her head straight away. the smile that was on his face dropping as he let out a harsh breath.

“not one bit.” y/n whispered out as scott gave her a sad smile, wrapping his arm round her side as the two started to walk down to the elevator.

y/n completely unbeknownst to the fact that logan watched as the two walked away, scott’s hand around her waist a burning picture in logan’s mind for the rest of the day as the anger inside him grew. his heart longing for something he couldn’t even mutter to his own brain out of fear for his strong the feeling was.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

halloween had come and you wished it hadn’t. your usual favourite season been replaced with all this shit stirring inside you to the point when it come round you didn’t even know if you could even be bothered to go to the party but you knew you had no choice which is why once you started to get ready you and rogue pregamed secretly, her having got bobby to bring some alcohol for you two as a constellation prize for him not being able to come which he did of course.. he did practically everything she asked and seeing them so in love made you sick half the time no matter how happy you were for rogue it did just remind you of your own lack of love.

tonight the liquor burnt your throat harshly to another extreme and the second you started you wished you never but there was no going back — your feelings being swept under the rug as you and rogue finished your drinks as the two of you got ready. her doing your makeup as you hummed to the music playing on her speakers which drowned out the growing noise of the party downstairs as your mind swirled over logan and scott, who had ended up asking you to go with him to this party which you of course said yes too, whilst rogue tried her best to take your mind off it.

not that it was working the slightest bit. rogue knew about the argument — she had heard the story a good six or seven times since it happened two days ago and she couldn’t even comprehend it let alone you. ‘team scott’ was what she had been saying for the first remainder of the night whenever you spoke about it which now just made you shut up about it because you couldn’t think straight when scott’s name was in the mix.

the anguish and hurt that had been displayed on your face for the past two days disappearing by the more you drunk. feeling more carefree by the moment as you and rogue eventually made your way down to the party.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

the party so far was a drunken mess from everyone around y/n as she locked eyes with logan for what felt like the 30th time in the past hour or so from the other side of the crowded living room. y/n roughly swallowing once their eyes met with his captivating gaze never dropping or leaving her own for a second and it had felt like that for the entire night despite his hand that was plainly wrapped around jean’s waist as they talked with wade and vanessa. y/n’s nose scrunching up as she observed that once again before she turned away burying her lips within another glass as she took a generous sip of the drink scott had got her.

rogue being in conversation with pyro who was playing with the hem of her shirt, y/n close to butting in just to make sure rogue was good because she knew how quickly she got drunk but she cut off with scott’s voice as he leaned over to her. his hand wrapping around her shoulder as he pulled her closer to her, the drunkness evident within him as every single time y/n saw him drink he seemed to get 10x more clingy.

“shall—we, shots?” scott rolled out as y/n met his gaze, a smile joining her lips at his drunk mess as she couldn’t help chuckle as he pulled her even closer to him to the point she was practically edging to be sat on him.

“we’re both far gone already.” y/n stammered out as scott couldn’t help a cheeky grin join on his lips as his hand stayed around her waist, his eyes focused up on her and his eyes were so heavily resembling a cute puppy dog through his visor she couldn’t stop the little blush coating her cheeks. her feelings amplified by the alcohol.

“cmon i’ve never seen you back down.” scott teased out, his voice a low and slurred whisper as y/n took in his words, them making her feel a number of things as she couldn’t stop herself from leaning over him as she grabbed two shots from the tray on the coffee table.

“it’s your fault if i start dancing in a minute.”

“oh, like dirty dancing?” scott referenced as he quipped his eyebrow up, y/n laughing at his words as she felt his eyes burning into her as she took the shot. y/n placing her shot back down on the table once she swallowed it as she looked back to scott, seeing how he hadn’t torn his eyes away from her, the shot still full in his hand as his eyes were focused on y/n as she smiled down at him, his hand keeping her close to him as she felt something inside her growing.

“mm definitely.” y/n chimed out as scott couldn’t hide the smirk that grew on his lips at the thought.

“good.” he said deeply as he took the shot right after speaking. y/n finding her mind a mess with his words as she moved her eyes back to the corner where logan was seeing him standing there, eyes narrowed on her but before the eye contact couldnt go prolonged for any moment longer as hank slid into the empty space in the sofa next to them between rogue and pyro who were clearly shitfaced already which captured y/n’s attention.

“where is my sanity?” hank rolled out as he sighed as he sunk into the sofa, y/n looking his costume up and down as she raised an eyebrow over it. scott leaning over y/n to see what he was, a smile on his lips as he saw it.

“frankestine you lost that many years ago.” y/n rolled out as hank gave her a look, scott laughing as it was the funniest thing she had said in the world as she could feel herself get daggers from across the crowded room. her swallowing as hank dug his own little grave into the sofa as she grabbed another shot as scott leaned back into the sofa, y/n unsubconciously leaning against his touch after putting the now empty shot glass on the table after downing it like it was water.

“yeah and what the hell are you?” hank casted out right before wade butted in.

“she’s wolverine if he was sexier and underage.” wade said lowly, giving y/n a little head bop with his hand as he made hank move over, wade sliding in next to y/n as scott scoffed at what he said as wades eyes dawned on scott.

“god you two move on quick.” he tumbled out, y/n shoving him in his side at his words as he fake winced in pain. hank rolling his eyes as he looked to scott and y/n.

“no! but you do make a good couple.” hank said tipsily as y/n felt her face going red as scott glanced over at her overviewing that sight as he felt a certain feeling grow in him at the knowledge. that familiar ache within her getting harder to have to deal with now as she pushed it down with another shot, scott sighing as she did so as he shot wade and hank a look which his drunkness made more obvious.

“yeah—quit it guys.” scott said lowly despite how he really felt about it as y/n leaned back into his touch, the closeness limiting her thoughts as scott brung his eyes over to hank only to be cut off with logan’s gaze from across the room.

logan’s eyes permanently dented onto scott as he sensed the anger radiating off him from across the room, scott having to cancel out the vision of jean right next to him trying to grab logan’s attention as he swallowed roughly with this making his grip on y/n tighter as he moved his eyes to hank. a sly smile on his lips as he could sense his rage from across the room which only got worse, that feeling making him feel good as if he forgot about jean being over there.

“frankie with the glasses got a point.” wade said swiftly as he dug into his pockets as scott sighed as y/n sent him a soft smile to let him know it was fine as hank decided to drown his emotions into the bottom of his glass. halloween music blaring through the speakers that nearly everyone in the room was dancing too, wade humming to himself as he brung something out his pocket.

“cocaine anyone?” he brushed out off the tongue as if it was nothing, y/n’s eyes widening a little at her friends habit as she felt her heart skip a beat as she looked over to wade as rogue leaned over hank with a raised eyebrow to see what was going on, her clearly judging him as y/n couldn’t help ponder over it for a second. but before she could even voice her little curiosity that wade could tell just from how she was looking at him she had the sound of the one guy she had been hating for the past two days, more like week, and who had been avoiding her like she was striker spoke up.

“put that shit away wade there’s kids at this party.” logan’s voice harshly let out which knocked y/n’s heart down a view pegs as she looked up to meet his gaze. his cold eyes not looking to her once as she noticed how focused he was on wade as his jaw clenched.

“wow you were watching me like hawkeye!” wade rolled out, “or too busy gawking at y/n still?” he said which installed an instant tension between the joint group as y/n swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat at wades blatant stupidness.

logan didn’t even buy into the shit he was saying, eyes narrowed on wade as he took a step closer to him past the coffee table as if that was a threat wade would notice or care about, “there are kids at this party wade. put it away.” logan followed out roughly, anger growing within him as he glanced over to y/n. their eyes meeting as his eyes lingered on her as he took in the way scott was sitting so close to her as if she was his to protect.

wade tutted at logan’s words as he raised an eyebrow at what he said, “it’s sixteen up peanut and they’re all doing this in the bathroom anyway aren’t they y/n?” wade waved away at you, “go on,go check with your mind.” wade said cockily towards you as he paused for dramatic effect as logan’s gaze narrowed even more on wade as he spoke up again as he looked back to logan, “see they are! loosen up cowboy.”

logan tutting as his gaze met y/n’s own before he looked back to wade, swallowing harshly.

“wade.” he growled out roughly, logan not letting his eyes move off wade’s for a second as y/n could see the anger deeply rooted on his face. scott scoffing as he decided to get involved.

“wade just take it somewhere else.” scott managed out, y/n’s eyes moving to his as his words hit the air as wade snorted in reply, a low laugh leaving his lips as scott was staring at logan. the uncomfortably in the situation rising so much y/n didn’t realise pyro and rogue sneak off together.

“i don’t need your back up.” logan scoffed out harshly, crossing his arms as he kept his gaze on wade not even tearing his eyes to scott. y/n finding his maturity ,lack there off, stupid as scott held back a sigh at his words as he kept his arm around y/n, deciding that was all needed to piss logan off right now as he didn’t even want to make a comment back or even have the energy too.

“this rooms full of adults.” wade chimed out, logan’s anger growing.

“wade— just fucking—“ logan started out only to be cut off by y/n’s voice.

“drop it logan.” y/n rolled out which made logan’s eyes fall down to her, seeing her all snuggly with scott making him another level of pissed off as he raised an eyebrow at her words.

“what? you joining wade?” logan growled out, his voice harsh and rude as y/n swallowed. scott going to butt in as wade observed what was going on, a sly smile growing on his lips as y/n spoke before scott got the chance too.

“just drop it. you heard wade.” y/n said back harshly to him which made logan tutt as he didn’t look away from y/n at all.

“sure i heard wade and i know you aren’t a fucking adult.” he bit out harshly, making y/n feeling a number of things as scott jumped in, “don’t talk to her like that.” he said harshly, logan’s eyebrows raising at scott’s words as he took in scott, looking y/n and him up and down before he bit down on his tongue. his anger having been raised by wade and now it was only getting worse

“or what? i’m pretty sure she can stand up for herself.” logan replied harshly which made scott’s anger rise within him as y/n got inbetween their words. hank and wade watching the three of them like it was a reality tv show.

“logan stop it.” she ushered out quickly, giving him a cold look as he met her gaze as the two stared at eachother, him not backing down for a second as she fixated her gaze on him. her heart unsteady at this prolonged harshness he had for her.

“is that all you can say kid?” logan scoffed out angrily which made y/n swallow harshly as scott’s grip tightened on her in a way of attempted comfort that right now was just making it worse. the pressure immense as wade’s eyes fell between y/n and logan. seeing how y/n was taking it, seeing through the demeanour. he could practically see her snapping. breaking.

“no. you’re an asshole and i’m not a kid, so leave it and fuck off too jean will you?” y/n shapped out harshly, her words coming out strongly as all three of them on the sofa amongst her didn’t expect those words to come out her mouth, wade’s mouth falling agap as did hank’s as they tried to hide the shocked expression overtaking their faces as scott swallowed harshly.

the tension risen as logan’s voice was as he immediately came back at her, “you’re a little baby compared to everyone here and you know that, also you don’t get a fucking right to talk about jean.” his harsh words were like a knife to the side as y/n laughed at what he said as scott held back the urge to speak up when logan mentioned jean’s name, it just being a habit he had, as y/n kept her eyes up on logan as she swallowed down her feelings. anger being the only thing prominent in her brain for him currently.

“okay maybe you guys should take this somewhere else.” hank trailed off, sensing the seriousness of the conversation and defintely being able to hear the feelings enlaced within both their words as wade hushed him.

“no, no i just need to get my popcorn. keep going!” wade tumbled out which made y/n turn to look at him with a harsh look, wade seeing the emotion in her eyes as she left his gaze and she searched the sofa for rogue. it just being hank and wade right where rogue and pyro once were sat.

“where th—“ she stopped herself from finishing as she realised the stupidness off her words before she quickly remarked, “you’re an asshole.” to logan as she quickly got up, scott’s hand falling off her waist as she stood up as she got face to face with logan instantly walking right past him and disappearing into the crowd.

“see what you did!” scott cursed out as he tutted, going to stand up to get her when logan instantly stood in front of him. placing his hand over his chest as he pushed him back down.

“stay.” logan said strongly before he gave wade and hank a look before disappearing right after her.

+ੈ✩‧₊˚

y/n turned as many corners as she could as her mind become even off a spinning mess as she made her way out to the courtyard where it was completely pissing it down but she couldn’t care less in the moment, just needing air and a break to recollect her thoughts, as she tumbled down the steps. her heart aching as she heard the door slam shut a few seconds later after she had left them. soon the faint sound of footsteps following her making her feel a number of things as she heard nothing him call after her. “where the hell are you going?” logan yelled out after her as she kept on walking, him running after her and eventually catching up to her.

catching his breath as he roughly grabbed her wrist to make her stop in in the middle of the field as he turned her around to meet his gaze, her breath noticing as it felt like her world stopped at that touch as she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“y/n.” he quickly let out with a raised voice so she could hear him over the pouring rain, the two of them getting drenched under the dark skies as she kept her gaze on him. trying to shake his hand off her own but he didn’t budge one bit.

“y/n!” he called back out when she didn’t answer — trying to grab her attention as he fought her way to finally look at him, swallowing a lump that was in her throat as their eyes met.

“what logan! what do you want? you’ve been nothing but cold and rude to me for a week and after what you just said to me there and what you said last time we spoke i don’t exactly wanna speak to you! so let go off me—“ y/n shouted out to him, her breath hitting a little as her voice broke a little as her confusing and distressing emotions got the best of her as they started to slip out.

logan’s breath hitched completely at her words as he grew more frustrated, “fuck, y/n! i —“ he cut himself off, moving his hand off her as he moved his hand through his hair in a stressful manner, not wanting to be sensitive at all but he could feel it all coming out as she felt her heart break as he took a step back. his shaky voice just being a reminder of everything he’s said before and how horrible he’s been recently, but it also reminded her off the man she thought she loved.

“what? logan? what!” she stammered right back out, her breath hitched as he looked at her. his mouth agap as he was fighting for the words. “i—“

“you what? you hate me? because good! i hate you too.” y/n tumbled out before turning on her heel, logan’s heart in his chest as he watched her as she started to walk away, just being able to make her out as the rain started to pour even harder. the chill down his back snapping him to reality as he quickly screamed back at her.

“y/n! for fucks sake, i’m in love with you!” he called back at her, his voice raised as he screamed that for her to hear through the loud harsh rain. y/n pausing in her tracks as his words hit her like a tidal wave.

her breath growing uncontrollable as she felt her chest rising, swallowing before she slowly turned back to meet his eyes. the distance vast between them as the rain filled her vision but she could see him, the rain pouring down on her face only making her emotions worse as she swallowed.

“what?” she yelled back at him, her voice shaking as she heard him curse under her breath.

“i’m petrified, y/n i’m fucking petrified because i love you so much it hurts.” he quaked out, his voice raising as his breathing became ragged and uneven, his body practically trembling under the coldness of the rain as he looked at her.

“logan—“

“no— don’t say anything else. just listen to me.” logan quickly spoke, taking steps over to y/n until he was a mere few inches away. her eyes dawning up on him as she swallowed roughly, her mind a mess.

“i get scared okay? i got scared because you, you’re everything. i got scared when i knew you felt the way i did i didn’t know how to deal with it. i don’t want to hurt you, i can’t. it’d break me in every way there is.” he rambles out strongly, “and i don’t love jean—i can’t when you exist.” he finished out, his words meaning everything as y/n kept her gaze on him.

her breath shaking at his confession as she looked at him wide eyed, his words hanging in the air as a thick silence grew. y/n taking in everything about logan’s face, the way he looked at her as she tried to wrack her thoughts around what she had just heard. questions falling through her brain as her mouth opened to speak, trying to find the words but instead of words she was met with logan’s lips against her own.

his hands falling around her waist as he pulled her to him softly, the roughness missing within this warm embrace as his kiss was full of desire and passion, the heated kiss making her feel a mixture of emotions as she let him take control of it. her body shaking due to the warmth from his body and the coldness from the rain soaking them as y/n’s drunken mind was lingering on one guy snd she couldn’t bring herself to admit who it was, not right now. her breath shaky as logan’s other hand fell down to her waist as he pulled her closer to him, her hand cupping his cheek as she kissed him back strongly.

the kiss growing more heated as he roughly bit down on her lip, a low whimper escaping her lip at his action as he groaned at just the way she sounded against him as he fought for dominance. the heat rushing between them as he pulled her as close as he could, wanting to taste every inch of her lips. her breath shaky as logan and her eventually pulled away from the kiss — his eyes falling down on hers as so much need for her was within his gaze as y/n looked up at him, her lips feeling swollen as she swallowed anxiously.

her not even able to say anything back or move, her body frozen as everything she had been fantasying about for the past year had just happened right there. and she didn’t know if it felt right or not.

she knew she loved him, she had for years, but as she looked at him now it was completely different.

and she couldn’t help but wonder why that heart ache she thought was down to logan was still present within her and no matter what she wanted to believe she knew deep down that she had fell so quickly and easily for someone else that standing here in front of logan the main feeling she had was guilt for kissing him back.

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cassie48 · 5 months ago

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Destined

Dark!Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!twin!reader

Summary: Where jacaerys loves you, his pretty twin sister, so much that he believed you were created for him, and him only.

Tw: Twincest, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, breeding kink, blood

MASTER LIST PART2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the moment you were born, Jacaerys had always loved you. All those years ago, cries could be heard, from a baby that had just been born, mere minutes after her brother.

Everyone in the room had tried to get you to stop crying, you’d been passed around multiple times, to multiple people, until eventually your mother took you back again, this time Jacaerys in her arms as well.

Once you were placed in her arms, your little cries stopped, as you felt your twin link his finger within yours, the two of you staring at each other.

When you had grown older, your brother had become very protective of you. Some may even say possessive. One time, at age four, the two of you were outside, running around with another child. The little boy took your hand running with you, and your brother exploded.

He shoved the boy off of you, screaming and crying with jealously, making you cry two, as you watched the scene in horror.

As the two of you got older, his behaviour with you only worsened, this led Rhaenyra to announce the two of you to be betrothed. It came as no shock, incest relationships were nothing knew for targaryens and the other houses.

The two of you shared a bedroom, you had your entire life. Since you had your first bleeding, you and your brother had been somewhat different. In other words, your brother spent every night between your legs.

One night, you had ran to your bedroom, hoping to find your twin brother. You ran with tears falling down your cheeks, crying loudly as you ran.

You opened the door, and Jacaerys stood with his top off, turning and looking at you. “My love?” He asked coming over and taking your smaller face in his hands.

“It was markus, he hit me and wripped my dress” You cried as you buried your face in your brothers chest.

Jacaerys face turned cold and with a glare he kissed your head lovingly. Markus was one of the lords sons, who lived in the castle with you. He was constantly teasing you and bullying you, but he had never physically touched you, and this was where your brother had finally had enough.

“How about you go to bed, you look tired. I shall deal with Markus, idaña” he told you kissing you before helping you undress for bed.

Around an hour later, when he had returned back to you, you turned in your bed, your nightdress high up on your thighs from tossing and turning. “Lēkia?” You murmured as he undressed for bed.

“I’m here” he whispered, now joining you in bed. You turned smelling blood and sat up inspecting your brother for injuries.

“I’m fine Issa jorrāelagon” he said cupping your cheeks and smiling at you fondly.

“Who’s blood is that?” You asked worriedly. He simply ignored your question and continued to look at you lovingly “All is well” he concluded.

You squealed slightly as pulled you onto his waist to straddle him, your hand going to his chest as his hands landed on either side of your waist.

“Sīr gevie” he whispered, moving his hips slightly to push himself against your tender body.

You moaned softly at his actions, grinding down against him as he moved against you, your wet pussy aching with need.

“Please” you cried, continuing to push your hip’s against his own to try and satisfy yourself.

Jacaerys hands moved up slowly, teasing you. He grabbed the ends of your nightdress, lifting it up above you waist, smirking as he saw your bare pussy on him.

You pouted at him, wanting to feel him deep inside of you. “Please” you said again, this time close to crying from annoyance and overstimulation.

He cupped your cheek, pulling you down to kiss you passionately, before flipping you over, so he was now above you.

He removed your nightdress completely, throwing in to the side, as he kissed you again, this time his tongue exploring your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, your hands now around his neck.

He began to kissing down your neck, then your breasts, eventually finding your lower tummy, and you squirmed under him, making him smile again.

“Patience, my lovely sister” he said making you glare at him.

With no warning he began to lick your wet pussy, and you cried out, your hands going to grip his dark curls, smirking to himself he continued for another minute before moving back up to your face. He kissed you once more, making you taste yourself.

“Jace please” you begged, your eyes now filled with tears.

“As you wish” he replied, removing his trousers, before entering you slowly. His hands on either side of you, as you both moaned. He began to move in and out of you, placing sloppy kisses on your lips every now and then.

“Louder, I want them to hear, I want them to know who makes you feel this good” he whispered in your ear, only arousing you further, as you cried out his name.

After a few more minutes you were both close to your climax “jace, I’m gonna-“

“I know” he replied, knowing your body all too well. He moved in and out of you, until you cried, literally. Tears fell down your cheeks as you clung to your brother, your walls clenched around him as your silhouette cum spilled out.

After a minute he joined you, spilling his seed deep into your womb. Groaning as he eventually pulled out. He watched as his seed dripped out of you, before he pushed in back in “Can’t waste any, need to make you carry my heir” he said breathlessly.

You only nodded, resting your head on your twins chest. The two of you drifting off to sleep, happily.

Some may disagree with your relationship, but you didn’t care, and neither did your family.

Anyway, the two of you were destined, as Jace liked to put it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idaña - twin

Lēkia - brother

Issa jorrāelagon - my love

Sīr gevie - so beautiful

#house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x sister reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerysvelaryonxtwinreader #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #aegon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #game of thrones #fanfiction #daemon targeryan #targaryen x reader

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds smut #cm writing challenge

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thischarmingmandalorian · 6 months ago

Text

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

Couple, Bar Chapter 1

Summary: After you help Joel with a work project, he takes you out for drinks. When the bartender mistakes you for a couple, his brain short circuits.

Pairing: Single Dad Neighbor!Joel Miller X Reader

Warnings: Joel thinking being mean is flirting, alcohol, grinding on strangers, getting groped in public, no-no words. In my mind there's an age gap (10 years max) and I envision a mid-40s Joel, but I don't think it'll ever become apparent.

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: Formatting on mobile is not for the weak, y'all, so if this looks like ass I'm sorry. I don't know what a contractor does. Song mentioned is Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) by Studio Killers. Full playlist is linked on the master post for this series (which I'll learn to link all together soon I promise I'M OLD, OK?!) Also I promise I have an English degree but if I read this one more time I'll lose the nerve to post it so ignore any mistakes I missed. Anyway love you bye.

While you weren't on your neighbor Joel's payroll, every now and then he'd knock on your door and sheepishly ask to borrow your "eye for design," which was Joel talk for "I need help knowing what handles look good on these cabinets I'm building and every other person in my life is busy."

You and Joel had been neighbors for the better part of 5 years and had become relatively close in that time. If you were being honest with yourself, the first day you met you might have fallen in love, but since immediately jumping into a relationship with a newly-divorced single father wasn't on your five-year plan, those feelings were buried, albeit not always successfully.

Joel was charming, kind, and... Southern. And while these were all things that made you head over heels for him, they were exactly what made it difficult to interpret his feelings for you. Were he and Sarah baking you Christmas cookies and hand delivering them to your door because he too had a crush, or was he just being neighborly? Was he grinning every time he said hello to you because he was a nice guy? What were you supposed to make of that one time, on his couch for movie night, when his hand lingered a little longer than normal on your thigh? You had no idea, and for the sake of your friendship, you were content not knowing.

On this particular day, Joel needed help matching paint colors to flooring samples and might as well have been color blind. He was building a house for a newlywed couple and their wishes for, as Joel put it, "some 1960s Brady Bunch bullshit" aesthetic meant nothing to him. You had spent the better part of an hour helping Joel match swatches of green and orange in ways that he had previously thought impossible, and as a thank you, he offered to buy you a drink at the first bar you spotted on the way home.

The first bar you spotted happened to be an almost-literal hole in the wall, but the packed parking lot indicated it was a place worth visiting. Joel opened the door, beckoning you through the threshold ahead of him, and you're hit with a wall of smoke and the bump of a local dj working through his set.

Luckily most of the people at the bar had already started drinking and were congregated in the middle of the tiny dance floor, making it easy to find two seats. Joel flagged the bartender over and ordered for the both of you, handing his card over to start a tab.

"Got you a beer, this place doesn't look like they'd make a good margarita," Joel shouts over the music.

You smile, leaning in close to thank Joel. "I appreciate the forethought! Send me a Venmo request for what I end up owing you," you gesture to the frosty bottles that get put in front of you.

Joel tuts and waves his hand between you two in a noncommittal gesture. He leans in close to your ear instead of shouting this time, "consider it payment for your help today. When that couple told me they wanted their house to be 'midcentury Palm Springs chic' I knew you'd know what they meant. The wife kept sending me links to her Pinterest board, whatever the fuck that is. I was too scared to click them because..."

"Because you're fucking old," you finish, barking out a laugh at the frown that Joel gives you.

After one beer turned into three, Joel starts to open up. Despite his gruff exterior, you know he cares and is interested in your life, even if it takes some alcohol to get him asking about it.

"Have you started dating yet?" The question catches you off guard, your eyes growing wide. "What? You've been in town for five years now, it's high time you start putting yourself out there. A pretty girl like you should have no trouble finding a man."

There it is again. Is Joel just being nice calling you pretty? Or is he fishing for something more?

"Have you started dating?" you counter, raising an eyebrow, nodding when Joel shakes his head. "I'm too busy, Joel. I'm…"

"'Focusing on my career,'" Joel finishes for you, having heard it all before.

You roll your eyes. "Why are we talking about this?"

Joel smirks and cocks his head to your beer, the label in the process of being peeled completely off. "You've peeled the label off every drink you've had tonight."

"Oh…kay?"

Joel shrugs, "if Tommy were here he'd say you're pulling the labels off because you're sexually frustrated." He makes a face as if to say 'but what do I know?'

You raised an eyebrow at Joel. "You of all people should know not to take what Tommy says as fact. And you're one to talk; you live across the street, I'd notice if women were coming over. And they're not. You're going through a dry spell, Miller, same as me." You empty your bottle, stuffing the label down the neck and waving the bartender over for you and Joel to order one more round. Joel tries to think of a witty comeback, but he knows you're right.

You watch the bartender open your tab on the till behind the bar and chuckle when you notice what she's titled it: at the top of the screen, in bold letters, "COUPLE BAR."

You tap Joel's bicep, pointing to the screen, "look at that, Miller," you shout over the music, "she thinks you and I are a couple."

Joel looks at the screen himself, eyes suddenly going wide. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused as to why he isn't just chuckling at the bartender's misunderstanding, but your expression turns to one of anger once Joel regains use of his brain and the only thing he can think to say is, "... ew?"

You hope you just misheard him over the loud music, but as Joel started to sputter out an apology, looking horrified at what he had said, you realize - a stranger thought you two were dating, and Joel thinks that's gross. You weren't interested in hearing him trip over his words while he tried to backtrack, and you desperately needed a distraction so you didn't start to cry. You wave your hand in front of Joel's face, telling him to save it as you grab your beer and push past him to the dance floor.

This is definitely not your scene, the middle of a smoke-filled bar on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, but you make the most of it, taking a swig from your bottle as you push through the crowd. Once you've made your way to the center of the crowd, you assume the position - eyes closed, bottle raised above your head, swinging your hips to whatever top 40 hit the dj decides to bleed into the last one he played. You don't have to wait long before you feel a body push up behind you and you welcome the distraction. You don't open your eyes or lower your hand except to drink from your near empty bottle, but you do back your ass up against the stranger behind you. It's definitely not Joel. This person behind you is way too lanky; when his arms encircle your waist they lack definition, his thighs aren't nearly as beefy as Joel's, and… you get frustrated with yourself. Joel just insinuated dating you would be gross and all you can do is think about how hot he is?

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts and enjoy the moment. The guy behind you is getting handsy, and normally that would bother you, but Joel was right about that dry spell. One song bleeds into another as you gyrate against this stranger who now has his hand splayed across your stomach under your shirt.

You're ripped unceremoniously from your mindless grinding by a large hand on your shoulder. You wink one eye open though you knew it was Joel. You're not interested in hearing him out, especially not with this stranger's hand gliding slowly up your torso, boldly inching closer to your chest.

"Darlin'" you hear Joel shout over the music, "'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

You put your palm in front of Joel's face before moving your hand on top of the stranger's, whose fingers are teasing the hem of your bra. Joel can be sorry, but he's also going to see how decidedly not-ew the thought of being with you is.

"Whatever, Joel. You can think being my boyfriend is gross. This is fine!" You open your eyes and the look on Joel's face is one you've never seen before. At this point he isn't looking at you, he's staring daggers at the man behind you. Whoever he is seems blissfully unaware.

"Honey, I'm out of touch. I'm fucking old, you said it yourself! I don't know how to - hey, buddy, do you fucking mind?" The hand under your shirt loses its grip on you as Joel shoves the shoulder of the guy behind you. Suddenly his body unglues itself from your back.

"My bad, man. Didn't know she had a boyfriend," he shouts over the music as he disappears back into the crowd. You groan and roll your eyes.

"So sorry, Joel! Turns out when you look and act like my boyfriend, people think you really are! How embarrassing for you," you ramble into Joel's ear. You turn to walk off the dance floor, embarrassed, but before you're out of his reach Joel grabs your forearm, pulling gently until you're flush with his body. He towers over you, his eyes bore into yours.

"Please listen," he bends to speak quietly into your ear, "I'm sorry, and I mean it. We're friends, and I value that. I thought I was bantering, bein' funny. I know you don't want to be a couple at this bar. I know you want to be friends, nothing more, with me. But…" he trails off, pulling away to look at your face.

The atmosphere changes in a way that you swear is straight out of a movie. The lights pulsing and flashing are hitting Joel's face in a way that makes him even more handsome, which you'd thought previously impossible. While your beer bottle is empty, clutched into your hand that hangs limply at your side, Joel's drink is nearly full, still frosty, and dripping condensation through your shirt, soaking your lower back. Joel's eyebrows are raised, waiting for you to do or say anything.

And then the dj changes the song. You are… intimately familiar with what begins to play and you shake your head, chuckling. What divine intervention drove the dj to start playing a song about ruining a friendship at this very moment? You have no idea, but you make a mental note to thank the universe as you smile at Joel. You push away from him for just a second, long enough to rip the label off your empty beer bottle. Joel looks confused watching you ball up the damp paper.

You chuckle as you toss the label at Joel, it pinging off his temple before you spin your body so your back is plastered against Joel's front.

You'll show him sexually frustrated.

Joel seems to take a second to read the situation because his body doesn't move. In fact, it goes rigid. Your hips sway against him anyway. Joel only breaks out of his spell when your arm snakes around his neck and you bury your fingers in his hair. Tugging gently on his curls seems to awaken something in him and his hands are on you in seconds. The hand clutching his beer comes to rest on your hip as the other picks up where your previous dance partner left off, creeping under your shirt and splaying across your stomach.

"What are we doin' here, baby?" Joel rasps into your ear, his voice deeper and more strained than you're used to. "I guess I deserve you teasin' me, but two can play this game." Joel's nose prods at a spot behind your ear as he peels one cup of your bra away from your body, replacing it with his hand. Your eyes fly open to ensure no one notices, but everyone on the dance floor is busy paying attention to their own partners. Joel rolls your nipple between two fingers before giving it a flick; you try and suppress a moan.

Not to be outdone, you reach for the beer bottle in Joel's hand. You make sure Joel's eyes are locked on you as you lick a stripe up the neck of the bottle, taking a generous sip before handing it back. Joel's eyes widen and he smirks, bringing his mouth back to your ear.

"Think it goes without sayin' now, but I really don't hate the idea of people thinking you're mine," Joel accentuates his last word with a gentle nip at your earlobe that makes your head loll back onto his shoulder.

"Are you listening to the song, Joel?" You reach up to place your hand on Joel's cheek, turning his face gently so your eyes meet. He looks confused, but you can tell he's training his ear onto the chorus of what's playing.

I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend

Joel lowers his eyes back down to meet yours and smirks. "You an' me both, darlin'." His hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer and you feel him grow hard against your ass.

"Know where I last heard this song?" The final notes start to dissipate, melding seamlessly with the next song. Joel shakes his head and asks where. You smirk, nuzzling into Joel's neck before you lick a stripe up to his ear. "It's on my sex playlist."

Joel stills. You grin, giggling as he pushes you away gently. "I've gotta close out the tab," he says once he remembers how to form thoughts into words. "Meet me at the truck. And think about what song you're gonna put on once I get you home."

#joel miller smut #fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou smut #couple bar #neighbor!joel

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notjustjavierpena · 5 months ago

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Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter I

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here it is. I have been working hard on this chapter for you, plotting out the little details that will hopefully connect beautifully with the coming chapters. I hope you like my take on Marcus Acacius, and I hope you will be patient and follow along ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy the effort I’ve put into making this somewhat historically accurate!

Chapter Summary: In which you meet your future husband, get a warning from an old friend and explore pleasure on your own - all the while tension grows in Rome.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, reference to marital SA but no actual SA, religion in the form of Roman Gods, talk about virginity, intense kissing, f!masturbation involving shame and guilt.

Word count: 7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/146141770

Chapter I: In these tumultuous times

You step through the atrium with a pulse that might break your ribs, too nervous to enjoy the marvel of the glorious marble construction that envelops you in near gold-speckled white. Neither can you fascinate yourself in the grandeur of the peristyle garden that you eventually find yourself in, green and luscious with well-tended plants that have no other purpose other than being beautiful - much like you.

The afternoon sun will come soon, casting a shadow over the rose bushes and the fountains which slow trickles of water are supposed to bring you peace but somehow just makes you dread this meeting even more. Any girl back home would deem the location romantic from the blooming red flowers but you feel no affection for the man you are to greet in less than an hour. Even if your mother claims that you eventually will.

You thank the Gods that your mother isn’t here with you, knowing that you would have had to suffer through hearing her complain about Sol moving just a bit too far across the sky in his golden chariot to let your gown shine the way it is supposed to. She has already spent several hours doing your hair since dawn, decorating each strand with violets from the grass patch close to the river that runs through your village. Symbolizing modesty and faithfulness, she had said.

It’s not like you are here alone though. Instead of being here with your mother, you are here with your father; a senator who, despite his well-earned respect in the confusing web of Roman politics, still finds ways to satisfy his greed for more power. In this case, it is giving away his daughter to General Marcus Acacius.

“This is good for us,” your father had said during your silent crying as he talked about your new life with importance, “It will secure our family's position in these tumultuous times.”

Times are indeed tumultuous and they are changing right before your eyes in the form of angry shouts in the streets, rotting fruit and vegetables at the town square market, and fewer outings amongst commoners. Rome, once a beacon of hope and stability, now teeters on the edge of a type of chaos that not even the previous emperor Commodus could imagine putting his empire through. The co-emperors’ insanity, greed, and vanity drain the empire’s coffers as they engage in petty conflicts that lead to war left and right. As a result, the population is left impoverished, the youngest of men are dying in battle and the women cry for their families all the while the very top - your family included - luxuriates in growing wealth. Such is war, your father has stressed.

“General Acacius is a man of influence,” your father had continued, his voice laced with conviction that you did not understand, “His alliance will protect us from the whims of those who oppose the emperors and their righteous campaigns.”

General Acacius is a man of great renown, co-emperors Geta and Caracella’s right-hand man, and with a sea of stories about his admirable exploits on the battlefield. Your father has somehow made the political move of his life by settling this deal, promising the great warrior a wife of exceptional beauty who he can do with as he pleases. Women never have a say in these things, so you simply smiled during dinners where your future was discussed in the same manner as when a farmer plans the sale of one of his cattle, listing the animal’s qualities like he would say them later to the buyer.

Whenever he finally let you in on the conversation, he would give you a stern smile and emphasize the importance of this arrangement because of the honor and security it would bring to your family to have such a man as your ally. However, where your father wanted you to think about your future husband’s victories, all you do think about is the fact that your future husband is a man in his fifties and you have barely surpassed your twentieth Summer in the mortal realm.

When the minutes tick by with excruciating slowness, you find a bench made of stone in the shade. You dust off your dress, tuck it close to your thighs, and sit down to steady your nervous breathing. The sun has made you unsteady, having beaten down on you - contrary to your mother’s worries - despite it being the last burning rays of the afternoon. You blame it on your overactive mind, the racing thoughts having gone straight to your heart and made your blood flow hot through you.

You lay a hand against your forehead, fighting off a sob as the nerves finally get the better of you. There’s no way you can ever see your reflection in the cold river again, smell the hyacinths that brush your ankles as you walk through them, or hear the laughter of children in the building next door unless the giggles are those of your own little ones.

You have been groomed for this, trained by your eager mother to be the perfect wife to a man you have never met. Your mother’s meticulous preparation is meant to ensure that you make a flawless first impression and are a suitable wife, but right now it does little to calm you because you know that this arrangement’s ultimate goal is for you to bear children that will be even more powerful than you and the General’s respective families.

Barely an adult and never been kissed, forced to be intimate by the General’s command that will surely come. You know well enough that there’s more to it than that, Cassius, a boy from the market, once having revealed in great detail what goes on between a man and his wife or even just a man and a woman. The future wedding night feels like an impending disaster, embarrassing for you with the way your mother has also dragged you aside to tell you horror stories of men taking what they want from their wives with little regard for their pain.

You gasp as a twig snaps close by, pulling you out of your trance to assess the situation. In front of you, you see him. General Marcus Acacius is standing no less than ten feet from you, his armor, a white plate body adorned with the design of two golden griffins, gleaming in the sunlight. He stands tall and imposing, his presence radiating with authority but when you spot him, his eyes make him seem incapable of the horrors that people attribute to married men. His hair, streaked with gray, frames a face marked by the years and experiences of a seasoned soldier. His eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into you as he waits for you to move.

You stare up at him for a second only to be seized by panic as you remember the routine you had been forced to practice with your mother. Quickly, you rise from your seat, dust off your dress, and lower your gaze respectfully.

“General Acacius, forgive me,” you say without finding his gaze.

You hear your name on his lips, surprised to hear that his voice is firm yet not unkind. It’s hard to suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine, a tingling sensation at the small of your back as he speaks because you know what he will be doing to your body soon, “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

You nod, letting out the rehearsed lines expertly, “The honor is mine and mine alone, General.”

“Look at me, my child,” you hear him command softly, getting a glimpse of what led him to become the man of power and grace that he is today because you follow through without thinking. You only imagine what he must be able to accomplish when his voice is rough and demanding. However, his eyes are softer still, a striking contrast to his profession where he has to consider each of his steps with deliberate and measured precision.

Marcus steps closer. You automatically take a step back, afraid that he might try and touch you already against your will. Nobody would know if he ravished you right here. He presses his mouth together in a thin line but he still somehow doesn’t look angry, instead just looks like he is analyzing the situation that he is in.

“Your father thought it best that I introduced myself without him or the servants’ eyes watching. I was surprised at his immediate confidence in me to be alone with his youngest daughter,” he says while you hug yourself to soothe your aching chest, holding on tightly as you beg someone to help you escape. He examines you long enough for you to believe he won’t strike to take what he might want. You feel guilty for thinking that he might have, knowing that it’s not the actions of an honorable leader.

“You are much younger than I expected,” he admits after a moment, a hint of weariness in his tone.

A tear slides down your stinging cheeks but you quickly brush it away and regain your composure enough to not start sobbing. The embarrassment of your single teardrop is evident on your face as warmth creeps up through the intricate twists and bends of your bloodstream, a dull pounding sounding in your ears.

“And you are a great man,” you reply in the most steady voice you can muster, “I hope to be a worthy wife to you.”

Marcus smiles, a small but genuine expression while he ignores your obvious distress. After all, this is not a matter in which women have a say. He sounds ever so confident in you, encouraging even, in a way you guess is to soothe your impending tears, “You will do well, I am sure.”

When you do not respond, he tries again. You must look like a scared little girl, desperately in need of being approached like a frightened animal and your heartbeat certainly imitates the one of a rabbit.

“I see you wear flowers in your hair,” he notes, finding the least threatening subject to discuss.

“Yes?” You furrow your brow, arms already falling down your sides. You link your fingers together in front of you.

“I made sure to have the gardener do extra work on each of the flowers in case you were interested in flora and fauna,” he elaborates, “Does the garden please you, Carissima?”

Carissima. The Latin word for dearest. He seems to be trying it out, collecting information from how you react to it, and making a move based on it. Your brows knit even further together but you use the opportunity to seem less scared and more relaxed after hearing it.

“It’s very beautiful, General. I shall be very fond of it in the future,” you say genuinely because, despite your ignorance of its charm right now, a rational part of you knows that it is gorgeous and enchanting. You will come to love it wholeheartedly.

“The birds that land in the trees here sing you awake in the early hours of the day,” he continues and mirrors you by also softening a little, looking around with a surprising fondness toward the gentle coos of the doves sitting on the rooftops, “If you are very lucky, you might hear a nightingale amongst the doves’ coos.”

“Nightingales are common back home,” you tell him with longing in your heart, closing your eyes for the briefest second but being able to see your backyard so clearly in that fleeting moment. Marcus senses it, shifting a bit on the spot with a concerned expression so you force a smile to let him know there’s no reason to worry about getting a sorrowful wife. You will cry tonight but you will be ready when he needs you to.

“So you know their song well,” he answers thoughtfully, “Good. I’m glad. It will remind you of home in these new surroundings. Will you let me show you the rest of the garden? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little before the weekend’s ceremony.”

He holds out his arm for you and you hesitate for just a moment before taking it, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how strong he is. His muscles flex gently underneath his bare skin, nicely soft wrapped around the muscles of his bicep when you expect everything about him to be rough and worn out by years of service to the empire. His smell envelops you, near-dizzying to you because you’ve never been in such close proximity to a man before and you don’t think you can imagine being any closer than this even though you have to soon. To think that you were nervous about him stepping close just minutes ago and now he is touching you and it feels… fine, not scary at all.

As he walks beside you, you can see the lines on his forehead when he speaks in concentration. He still looks good for his age, you find yourself thinking, blessed by the deities Venus and Apollo for his well-aged beauty and the golden radiance of his skin that reminds you of the sun. You notice his nose now that you see his profile, it curving in the way of Jupiter’s and making you swallow thickly at the power his mere appearance gives him.

Some things speak to the young girl in you too; his beard has patches, one formed in a heart shape that you would tell the girls in your village back home about if you could. To this, they would giggle delightedly like they were still the age of getting tutored.

Then there are his brown eyes, deep as the darkest of amber you have collected on the shorelines in your youth. They shine with sincerity, more than once filling yours with their honey glow as you walk together. You begin to see beyond the fearsome reputation and the sternness that he first approached you with. He speaks of the flowers surrounding you with surprising tenderness, admitting to the jasmine being his favorite, and of how he had the garden designed to remind him of his childhood home in the countryside.

You think that your responses seem trivial compared to the anecdotes that he is able to share but he seems to enjoy hearing tales about your childhood home. He nods in understanding and adds the words of someone well-reflected even if he is known for brutality when at war. You let down your guard, “We must have more in common than I initially thought, Gene—“

“Marcus,” he corrects when you come to a stop, “You may call me Marcus when we are alone.”

“Marcus,” you repeat. You look down briefly as warmth settles in your cheeks, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest because you realize he has led you to a small, secluded area of the grand peristyle garden. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden hue over the marble fountain before you. It is small yet majestic in its simplicity, surrounded by vines of ivy and jasmine. It seems to be his favorite spot on all of his owned property.

“What are we doing here? Are we supposed to be this hidden from everyone else?” Your grip loosens on his arm.

“Never mind that, Carissima…”

There’s that name again.

“Look, I know this isn’t the Trevi Fountain of Rome but I thought we could wish for Fortuna to bring us good luck and happiness together,” he reaches for his belt where a pouch hangs in a string that pulls it closed. He digs his thumb and index finger into it and digs out a coin, its front decorated with an engraved picture of a peacock’s feather; a symbol of Juno, the Goddess of marriage and childbirth.

He holds the coin between his fingers, the sunlight catching its glimmering surface, and offers it to you with a gentle expression that’s not quite a smile in case it might scare you off. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your palm. This is your future husband and he is trying, doing everything in his power not to unsettle you but invite you to give yourself to him in the next coming days.

The coin is mostly cool against your skin but still holds the tiniest amount of warmth from Marcus’ fingers, its edges smooth and worn from years of handling.

“This is a tradition,” Marcus explains, his voice carrying reverence, “We make a wish and toss the coin into the fountain. It is said that Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, grants blessings to those who seek her favor.”

You nod. This moment feels intimate, a quiet ritual shared between the two of you amidst the grandeur of the garden yet still hidden away from everyone else. This is a ritual of lovers, of people whose fates are closely entwined. You look at Marcus, meeting his warm brown eyes, and find reassurance in his steady gaze and slow secure breaths. You find it shameful that you believed him to be violent with you, that he would do anything with anger because he is, you realize, the type of man who doesn’t have to take anything by force when it comes to women. In that moment, it makes total sense to follow his wishes, but even more, it makes sense to wed him and go to bed with him.

“What should I wish for?” You ask softly.

Marcus dares a smile, “Whatever your heart desires. A wish for happiness, perhaps. Or for our future together to be filled with understanding and respect. Perhaps, in our own way, companionship and love.”

Together, you approach the edge of the fountain and you lean over it to gaze at the many glinting coins on the bottom. A violet falls from your hair and lands on the surface of the water, floating effortlessly with such strong symbolism that your stomach does a flip.

Marcus steps closer behind you and you turn to face him, the rim of the marble fountain digging into the back of your thighs until you nearly fall backward in an embarrassingly young fashion. Marcus takes you by the wrist to steady you but the touch doesn’t last long since you’re supposed to throw the coin over your shoulder.

With a flick of your wrist, you send the coin into the water behind you. The only thing you feel is the coldness on your skin where Marcus’ fingers were a moment ago, the slight breeze cooling down his leftover body heat quickly.

The coin hits the water with a splash. You swallow your nervousness to say something for the first time that isn’t the answer to a question from him, “May Fortuna smile upon us.”

“May she indeed,” Marcus agrees, pleased. He motions to a bench close by, “Shall we sit for a moment? Your feet must be tired.”

You agree, and he helps you to sit. Your hands touching sends a spike of energy through you before you are disappointed by him taking a seat beside you but maintaining a respectful distance. He takes his sword out of its place in his belt and rests it against the bench, getting comfortable with you.

“Marcus,” you say his name before you even realize what you want to ask of him.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for you to continue, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

When your request comes to mind, you are struck by the fear of ridicule but you shove it down in favor of letting yourself have this.

“I know this is most unusual to ask of you, but would you give me a kiss?” The second you have said it, panic makes you babble in his presence, “I know my duties as a wife, my mother has told me plenty, but I cannot bear the idea of the first show of affection between us to be in our chambers and with… with more to come.”

If you are not to burst into tears at the festivities after your union or even worse, when he takes you to bed, you need to get this out of the way. You only hope to be successful in your attempt, knowing it is not customary to follow through on such an ask. It hangs in the air for a moment, the garden seeming to hold its breath along with you. It all comes down to your future husband’s view of modesty.

Marcus watches you carefully with an expression that is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. He looks like he might say no at first, afraid that someone from his staff might spot you and start a rumor that deems you unworthy of this arrangement. It might be the sincerity and vulnerability in your request that convinces him and lets him take the risk.

“Very well, I understand your concern,” he nods with determination.

He shifts closer on the stone bench, his movements slow as if trying to put you at ease, as if approaching a deer in the forest and not wanting it to run. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours as your thighs nearly touch, the scent of his skin filling your senses. It is leather, sandalwood… and something that is his own distinctive smell. Your heart races, your skin prickles underneath your gown, and heat spreads across your thighs.

It feels like you only blink for a second but when you open your eyes again, Marcus is closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his uneven breaths mix with yours,

“Are you ready?” He asks in a whisper, his breath warm against your face and his eyes roaming over your features in case you want to stop.

Your voice has died in your throat, so you simply nod your head. Marcus swallows thickly while you are lost in the fact that you can count his eyelashes right now. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours with care and apprehension that takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and restrained as if he is giving you the chance to pull away if you want to.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean into the kiss when you’ve gotten used to the scratch of his beard, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders and moving inwards towards his neck, sliding under the collar of his cape. His lips are warm and you feel a shiver run down your spine at a sort of contact you have never felt before. You wonder what he thinks of you, if your passion even in your inexperience is worth his time to broaden your horizon… but any doubt vanishes as the kiss deepens slightly, Marcus’ hand coming up from where it rests on the stone to lay on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A tiny noise leaves you and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can feel the strength in his arm as he has it wrapped around you but there is no force or demand in his touch. Instead, there is a sense of him handing control over to you.

An instinct tells you to get even closer, straddle him, do something, anything even if you are not sure what. One of your hands falls down to Marcus’ chest plate, his uneven breath evident in how it pushes against your palm like raging waves. Your hand travels further down until the tips of your fingers brush his belt.

It is only then that the General reacts, pulling back firmly but without hurting you. He creates some distance between you by pushing you gently away by the shoulders. The both of you are breathless. He shakes his head, “Carissima. That was not part of the deal.”

You are embarrassed by your actions, not sure if Cupid is playing tricks on you by blowing to the fires of forbidden desire that you were not even aware burned in your lower belly. Your body hums but you are mortified, “S-sorry, my legatus. I don’t know what came over me.”

You go back to general. It feels appropriate to use his proper title now. You have brought shame on yourself, might as well have let him take your maidenhead right here on the stone-cold bench and the worst part is that you are not sure if the fire in your loins would have fogged your brain enough to not stop him from doing it.

“Please, do not apologize,” he says to reassure, holding up a hand to stop you from protesting, “There is nothing wrong with what you feel. It is natural. But I want to honor my promise to your father, no matter the impulses that you give me. You are as beautiful as Venus herself. I shall enjoy our time together very much when it comes.”

“Thank you,” you say with a still trembling voice. The lump in your throat feels impossible to swallow.

“Now. Shall we continue our walk?” He suggests while getting up from his seat, his tone light as if to ease the tension. He offers you a gentle smile as he ties his sword to his belt again then reaches to take your hand.

You get up with a simple nod. He acts like nothing for the rest of the day.

—

You return home by carriage after dinner at Marcus’ estate. After a day with such complex emotions being explored, with how your new life seems less and less like a dream, and with how the sun hangs so low in the sky, you have already started to feel tiredness taking over your body.

You excuse yourself to your room not long after you return to the comfortable familiarity of your home, brattishly avoiding conversation with your mother about how everything went when she starts asking a million questions.

“I thought you might like to talk,” she says after you have gotten up from your seat in the living room, a few paces behind you as you make your way down the halls.

“Mother, I just want some rest,” you stress, bare feet patting across the floor. You hold your skirt up to walk faster, nearing your destination but not wanting to slam the door in her face, “I do not wish to talk about anything with anyone. Ask Father. I bet he’ll be eager.”

“Dearest,” she tries, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Please,” you beg as you turn around in the doorway, “It was fine. I’ll be fine, it’s just a huge transition from this life.”

“That’s why I wanted to—“

“No,” you say more firmly than intended but your overwhelmed state leaves you with little patience. You hope she understands, know that she might because her marriage to your father started the very same way, “I promise we can talk in the morning but I really need some time for myself right now.”

Your mother looks slightly hurt like she is watching her child slip through her fingers during her last night at home. You swallow thickly but hold your ground.

“Very well,” she says finally, eyes closing briefly to breathe through her nose. She forces a small smile and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow with this conversation forgotten.”

You offer the very same smile in return, then close the door behind you with a relieved sigh. You cross the room to the window, pushing open the shudders to overlook the buzzing garden.

Carefully, you start detangling the flowers from your hair and laying them on the window sill. A few of them are taken by the wind, some landing on the ground while others delicately fly through the air. You watch them until a gasp leaves you, two eyes belonging to a man staring at you from across the garden but you don’t feel frightened.

You sigh with annoyance as he steps out of the bushes and closer to the window, picking up one of the violets on his way, “You should not be here, Cassius.”

“I wanted to see you before tomorrow,” he admits with a little smile, boyish and inexperienced compared to the ones you have received from Marcus today. He places his hands on the window frame, about to crawl inside.

“Are you trying to get killed?” You whisper loudly and barricade the window, “You cannot be in here, don’t come in.”

“What if I never see you again?” Cassius huffs but doesn’t push it, “I just wanted to say congratulations on your union tomorrow.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Cass. Of course, I’ll see you again; you’re my oldest friend,” you say with exasperation but you know that it is naive of you to assume this is the way things work. Cassius grew up with a farmer for a father, living far away in the countryside where the houses are surrounded by fields of vegetables that they eat at the palace and a long way from the neighborhood that you have grown up in.

“Well, you can say it from outside my window,” you continue and tense up at a few footsteps outside your door. You hold your index finger in front of your lips, listening intently to see if they pass or stop in suspicion of who you are talking to.

A moment passes and the footsteps fade. You turn back to Cassius who now wears a troubled expression, eyebrows knitted together. You go a little softer, a little more quiet, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Cassius hesitates just a second before speaking, “Your dear old dad has probably told you about this but things are changing around the outskirts of Rome. It’s growing more dangerous by the day to live out where I am. Geta and Caracalla’s combined ruling. They are not in their right mind and it is tearing the backbone of the empire apart. We’re angry and starving.”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Your father has indeed talked about this during dinners in the past but always with no air of real concern and more with a scoff when mentioning the ungrateful people of Rome, their greed, their arrogance but mostly their lack of trust in their emperors who are right under the Gods.

“Why are you saying this?” You inquire impatiently.

“To ensure your safety in all of this when things break loose. You know how I feel about you,” Cassius looks down briefly. Yes, you know how he feels about you and while you have never reciprocated his love, you feel a tug in your heart about how he has waited for you for years with knowledge of how impossible your life together would be. A farm boy and the daughter of a senator? It is doomed from the very beginning.

“If things are as dangerous as you say then the General will be able to protect me, will he not?” You ask to push him away, make him let go of you.

“Marcus Acacius is a powerful man, but even he may not be able to navigate the storm that’s coming to the citadel,” Cassius places a hand on the window sill, the violets flying to all sides from the force. It’s his way of trying to get closer.

“And your solution is what? That I run away with you? Please,” you look down at his hand. This is not one of those moments where you realize your feelings after all this time, after years of childhood friendship, and run off together with the boy next door, so you let your hands fall down to your sides.

“Don’t marry him,” he suggests with pleading eyes, “I don’t want you with those people.”

You laugh in disbelief and turn your head away, “Cassius, by the Gods, you know that I have no say in that whatsoever. Besides, who says that I don’t want to be there with him?”

Cassius ignores the last part of your sentence bitterly, “Then just be careful, my friend. I know your father has power but I know he favors the emperors which will not benefit him in the coming future. Those caught in the middle often pay the highest price and you’ll soon be at the very top, exposed.”

You shake your head to brush him off but something is looming underneath Cassius’ words. They don’t sound as delusional as your father might think them and you poke fun to maybe earn a confession, “You sound like you’re going to storm the palace tomorrow.”

It is Cassius’ turn to laugh but the sound is hollow, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. I would never be so bold as to make you hate me. No, I have no plans to go so far.”

“What are you planning?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Nothing right at this moment,” he replies quickly but unconvincingly. You can feel the tension in his voice and the strain on his jaw as he clenches it, “But I will do what I must if it comes to a point where I need to fight back.”

“You make it sound like I have the power to fix everything. I do not,” you say with frustration.

“Then at least change your heart,” he tries one last time, holding his hand out for you like he wants you to take it and crawl out the window, never to show your face here again.

You shake your head, “Cassius, you know our lives were never meant to intertwine like that. We come from different worlds.”

“But our hearts,” he whispers sorrowfully, “They’re from the same world. At least, mine has always belonged to you.”

“Cassius…”

“I understand,” he admits in defeat, “Marry him, have his children but stay out of the palace. I can’t stress that enough. Stay out of the palace.”

“You are speaking in tongues again, what does this mean? What do you know?” You stare at him.

Cassius steps back from the window, the distance between you growing both physically and emotionally. With a sad smile, he looks at you one last time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cassius,” you reply with furrowed brows.

With that, he turns back into the night, leaving you with a mind filled with questions. You watch as he disappears into the shadows of the garden.

You lean against the wall with a deep breath, heart heavy with uncertainty about who you thought you knew so well but you decide to ignore it completely to get some relief by rest. You will rather try to focus on the events of tomorrow as you start to undress down to your tunic, your thoughts swarming around Marcus instead of Cassius. The way that things are supposed to be.

Not long after, you lie down to sleep in your bedroom for the last time before moving into Marcus Acacius’ villa the next day. You should be feeling upset about leaving everything and everyone behind, nostalgic and melancholic even about Cassius, but all your mind does is replay the events that took place on the bench in the peristyle courtyard just half a day beforehand. It is so vivid that you cannot seem to rest, the images of Marcus’ beautiful, God-given eyes and mouth flashing on the inside of your eyelids whenever you try to fall asleep. The pictures are in such vibrant colors too, so intense that you resort to pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. The colors smear and blur together until they look like painting instead but you have to stop due to the ache.

It doesn't matter anyway because it isn’t enough. Your vision isn’t the only one of your senses that he has taken as his own. The feel of his mouth lingers on yours, enough for you to let your fingertips trace over your bottom lip. It feels the same but then again, it doesn’t. Maybe he has left a mark on you that no one has dared to point out?

As well lingers a feeling of a spark that cannot be extinguished once it has been ignited. The sensation has you restless under the covers, the woven fabric scratching uncomfortably against your arms and legs until you have to throw them off.

It is a warm night tonight. The window shutters are still open to let in a night breeze that feels nice on your bare, burning, and untouched skin. You try to find sleep by listening to the usual chirping sound of the crickets but it is of no comfort this time. Marcus is still right there with you, his strong hand on your back and his eyes flickering down to your lips. In your head, he wants you and he lifts up your tunic to touch you where your pulse throbs and— By Jupiter, you need to calm yourself.

You open your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Everyone has gone to bed, your parents, despite your protests, having come in and kissed you on the forehead while expressing how proud you have made them feel. Yet in the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom, everything feels foreign now that you’ve stepped into new territory of desire, unlocking something that separates you from what belongs to the mind of someone’s child. You don’t belong anymore in this room with walls that contain all of your childhood memories. You are grown now.

You should feel sorrow about this, about never coming back here but instead, your body buzzes like a hive of bees, tiny shivers of lust provided by Cupid flowing through you as teasingly as the softest butterfly wings flapping around inside you. It’s a forbidden feeling that stirs guilt in you but also a strange anticipation that has your hand slipping down your belly. Has your skin always been this soft?

You wonder if Marcus feels the same turmoil inside of himself, if he is lying awake just as you are right now and replaying the way your fingertips danced around his waistband but never got any further. The thought makes your hand slide down between your legs, reaching up under the hem of your tunic until your fingers slide over the wet skin there. You breathe deeply in through your nose.

You have done this a few times before but you’ve always gotten to a point where you have to stop yourself, afraid of what might happen when you feel yourself start to reach some sort of pinnacle that you are at a loss for words to describe. It’s natural, you remember Marcus saying about your body’s response. But doing it alone? Isn’t what you are feeling as you touch yourself reserved for your future husband? What would he say if he saw you explore yourself like this? Would he be disappointed in you? Or does he do it himself? Naked in his bed with his thigh muscles flexing as he feels what you are feeling right now? No, don’t think about him like that.

Your thighs fall out to the sides on their own accord. You find the spot that makes you gasp softly, the night way too quiet for you to be making such a noise when others are sleeping soundly. You tip your head back to open your throat, hoping it will make you quieter as you play with the sensation between your legs. Are the Gods watching you? Are they the only ones who can understand the complexities of your mortal longings? Can they tell you what will happen on the other side of this tightening in your gut?

Your breath quickens, shallow puffs of air coming out as you near the pinnacle quicker than ever. A noise close to the sound of a hurt animal escapes your lips and your fingers start to move in earnest, quickly back and forth over the little nub that you think is far too small to have such an effect on the rest of your body. How are you so soon covered in a sheen of sweat? How is your soul already teetering on ripping from your body, a mere vessel?

“Ah,” you moan a little louder, catching it in your throat by biting down on your lip. You feel the pleasurable buildup gradually increase in intensity and suddenly you’ve rolled around onto your front to grind your pelvis up and down on your fist.

Marcus. Marcusmarcusmarcusmar—

No. Clarity comes to you right before you lose it, fear too as it feels like your spirit might leave your body completely. You force yourself to stop your hips’ rapid movements against your hand, surprised at how quickly the sensation of something so unfathomable can ebb away from your grasp. It leaves both a physical and emotional ache. You pant against the bed, nearly creating a damp spot where your mouth rests against the linen.

You roll onto your back once more, wiping your slick fingertips on the sheets before pulling your tunic back into place around your thighs. You suddenly start to freeze, the air from outside your window starting to cool down the sweat on your skin.

It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to drop again. Tomorrow, you will marry Marcus Acacius and a new chapter will begin - a chapter where the tingling ache between your legs will belong to him - but for now, you let the fatigue of managing to hold off lull you to sleep.

You pull the covers up to your chin, feeling smaller like this but it doesn’t comfort you like it did when you were a mere child. You cannot stop the tears that spring to your eyes, starting as a tightening in your chest, a thick swallowing, only to come out in quiet sobs.

You feel the drops slide down your face, running freely down to the sides of your cheekbones and over your ears. Your hair dampens slightly, your nose grows stuffy and sensitive but despite all the telltale signs of your distress, there’s mainly relief as you let go to cry harder about your new life.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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sapphosclosefriend · 1 year ago

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- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

Part 2

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

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Day 27: Gloryhole - Nick Fowler

Summary: You worked in a club that catered to the wealthy and powerful, with the job to satisfy them all in whatever way they wished. But what happens when the person needing satisfaction happens to be your boss, Nick Fowler?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, reader!stripper/prostitute, multiple customers, oral (m!receiving), degradation, possessive, deepthroat, fingering, glory hole, rough sex, praise kink, sir kink, creampie

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

Everyone gathered in the centre of the club, lounging on the lavish couches or on the edge of the stage that had multiple poles and dancing areas. The place was squeaky clean and, in the brightness, looked pretty respectable for a nightclub, showing the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent by the owner on maintaining the building. However, once the lights began to dim and the music turned up to a deafening level, the club became a haven for those with power and money to do whatever seedy activities they wished.

It paid well, especially the tips from specific customers, so you were more than happy to get dolled up every night and pleasure men and women in the back rooms, dance, or perform if it was what they wished.

Picking at your intricately designed nails, you chatted casually with the other girls and one of the security, waiting for the boss to come and inform everyone where they were positioned for the day. To ensure that your skills are kept up to top quality, the girls are usually moved around, and today, you were hoping to avoid being on the stage, needing a break from spinning and dancing as your muscles were starting to feel the strain of it.

The whispers hushed to silence as Mr Fowler strutted in, his signature smirk and crisp suit hugging his body to perfection. You couldn’t help but straighten your posture, the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach that always seemed to come whenever he was in the room. He was a powerful man and your boss, making your need to impress him more severe.

“Evening, everyone. I hope you’ve all had a good night's sleep because you’ve got a long night ahead of you. We have some special guests tonight who have heard the rumours on my…samplings”, he gestured to the girls around the room that he’d made sure all had different ethnicities, shapes, heights, eye colours, everything you could possibly think of to appease to whoever would come and spend their money in his club. With his hands in his pockets, Mr Fowler began leisurely walking around the room, addressing each girl and where he wanted them to be.

Your breaths paused as he stopped before you, his startling bright eyes exploring your body, which was covered in a dressing gown as you’d decided to change after finding out where you would be working tonight. Refraining from letting your eyes roll as his exquisite aftershave floated over your senses, you waited for your instructions.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be in the hole. I want you to be at your very best today. I’ll be sending my special guests to you throughout the night as they like to keep things anonymous”.

He only continued with his instructions to the other girls once you’d responded with a nod and “Yes, sir”, but his eyes lingered on your bottom lip that you’d tugged between your teeth.

It had been a while since you’d been to the glory hole, but you were somewhat thankful for this as it wasn’t as strenuous as dancing on stage for hours. You also took it as a compliment in a sick sort of way that he had trusted you to be in his most famous of locations, especially with there being some important guests.

As everyone was dismissed, you walked to your locker and prepared for the night. There wasn’t much point wearing clothes when you’d be switching between using your mouth, pussy, hands and ass if it was what the customer wished for. So, you kept the dressing gown on and collected a pillow, bottle of water, towel, and some lube.

The glory hole was in a unique set of cubicle toilets; however, even this was luxurious and not anything like the dark and dingy glory holes you were used to seeing on porn websites. Instead, it was bright and welcoming, even if it was designed to be a toilet other than the hole in the cubicle at the end. Waving to the security guy who was stationed outside of the door, you entered and breathed in the regal scents from the air fresheners as you walked to your stall. There was a small shelf above the toilet that you placed all your items on except for the pillow, which you placed on the floor, knowing you’d spend a lot of time tonight using your both and wasn’t prepared to destroy your knees by being on them for hours on the marble flooring.

As the music increased, you sat on the toilet lid and scrolled through your phone, waiting patiently for the first customer. 20 minutes pass, and the door opens, the music intensifying for a moment and then dimming as the door clicks closed. Quietly, you switched your phone off and slid onto your knees, getting comfortable on the pillow as you heard the customer step into the toilet cubicle next to yours and could see a flash of expensive-looking pinstripe suit through the circular hole in the wall.

Seconds pass, and then a had cock is slipping through the hole. Your mouth descends onto it instantly, licking a long strip up the underside. It was a couple of inches long, so you had no issue taking the length entirely, which seemed to please whoever was on the receiving end of the oral sex if the groans were anything to go by.

He didn’t last very long as you gathered the cum into your mouth and quietly spat it into the tissue. You’d learnt from past mistakes that swallowing too much cum on a night like this only made it settle heavy in your stomach and left you feeling queasy by the end of the night. It wasn’t like they could see anyway, as the customers were usually zipping themselves up and exiting.

The next few were in similar situations. They were sticking their dick through the hole, and you were sucking or jerking them off to completion. Every so often, there would be someone who wanted to dirty talk, calling you their slut, whore or other unimaginative derogatory names that increased the firmness of their length. It was all white noise to you. You were here to do one job, which, to be truthful, you did very well, so if they wanted to be vulgar, they could because, at the end of the day, you were still getting a fat paycheck.

There were occasions when the customers would push a wad of rolled-up dollars through the hole as they zipped themselves up again, which you happily stacked on the shelf. These were your favourite customers, and sometimes, when you were lucky, you’d have a couple of fingers stick through the hole, wishing to pleasure you and hear your moans. Most of the time, you faked it as it was always an awkward angle, or they just thought ramming their fingers in and out without any clitoral play would ever be enough. It wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that you were faking an orgasm as you scrolled through TikTok.

The night passed by steadily, and so far, you’d received very positive responses from the customers, and even though your jaw was aching and hands tingling from the amount of squeezing you’d been doing, it was definitely one of your better nights. It had also become incredibly warm in the windowless room, so your dressing gown had been hung on the back of the door so that you were completely naked.

The door opens and closes as you rush to shut the water bottle in your hand, swallowing the cool liquid that soothed the dryness in your mouth. Slow, calculated steps echo and bounce off the walls as you wait on your knees for the next customer, not thinking anything of the powerful stride walking towards you. The cubicle's door opens and shuts with the lock finding its home as you try to peep through the hole to have a glimpse as to who is next.

A flash of a black suit and then a thick, long cock is passing through the hole. Your eyes widen for a second, staring at the dick in front of you. It was the best-looking cock that had been in here tonight. The dark pubes were perfectly trimmed. Even though it had an incredible length, it still was rock hard and throbbing in the air, the veins bulging along the shaft and the bulbous tip a beautiful deep maroon that you complimented would look good as a lipstick shade.

Whoever it was, had a magnificent member that for once had your abdomen warming with arousal, and you hoped that whoever it was would ask to fuck your pussy, just to feel your walls stretch around it.

You licked the palm of your hand, deciding to get a feel of him first. Your fingers only just reached each other as you wrapped around his shaft, feeling the velvety soft skin and the firmness of the thumping blood beneath the surface. He was hot in your hand, and as you squeezed him tightly and moved your fist towards his tip, a clear drip of precum bubbled into the hole.

Your tongue darted out, catching the liquid and swallowing. The moan you produced was genuine because, for once, whoever it was, the skin tasted clean and not like he’d been sitting in his ball juice for hours on end. Even the precum had a satisfying salty taste to it, but you blamed those thoughts on the increasing flame between your legs.

Sitting up further on your knees, your tongue began to gently lap at the underside of his cock, following the movements of your fist. As you reached the base, the overwhelming scent of aftershave brushed over your nose as you completely froze, eyes widening and breath stilling.

A deep chuckle that you recognised immediately floated from the other toilet. “Hmm, finally recognised me at last, have you, sweetheart?” Mr Fowler confirmed your suspicions. Your body didn’t know how to handle this news. One the one had it still in fear, throat drying and heart pounding beneath your ribs. However, it also burned even more desperately with the need to satisfy him and do something you had been hoping for for months.

Even though Nick Fowler was an incredibly handsome man, he had always kept to himself, never once indulging in the girls he employed, which helped to gain the trust of the employees. This was a double-edged sword for you, having always found him attractive beyond words, but knowing any advances that you made would be worthless and potentially see that you were fired.

So now that he was here, cock resting on your tongue and in your palm, you were conflicted with what to do.

“You see, I’ve been hearing some very, very good things about the goings on in here. So much so that these gentlemen tonight have booked in with us for a further four nights, which means my profit has increased a whole fucking lot. And that’s all down to the perfect princess in the end stall.”

You weren’t entirely sure what to say. It wasn’t like you’d been going out of your way to pleasure the people coming and going from the glory hole; you’d just been doing your regular sucking and touching, so to hear him speaking so highly of your work had a deep shiver running down your spine and pooling between your legs.

“With all the high praise, I thought it would be a good idea to come and see what all the fuss was about. Test the goods, if you will. Do you think you can handle me, Princess?”

Your eyes fluttered close at the nickname, as simple as it was, the way his deep, sultry voice seemed to kiss the air, making everything seem like the most cheek-warming compliment; you were ready just about to do anything your boss asked of you.

“Yes, sir”, was your quick verbal response before your sexual acts continued. Squeezing your fingers around his cock again, your mouth moved at the same time to the very tip, wrapping your warm lips around him entirely and letting the natural weight of him lay against your tongue.

Closing your eyes, you tried to forget that it was your boss on the other side of the wall and that this was probably the most crucial blowjob that you’d ever given before.

Your mouth filled with salvia, helping to wet his length as you lapped over his size with delicate little licks as your hand moved up and down the base of his shaft. Mr Fowler sucked in a breath through his teeth as his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Didn’t think you’d be such a tease, show me what you’ve got, Sweetheart”.

Your smile for a moment before taking more of his length into your mouth, pressing your flat tongue against the sensitive underside and hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Opening your eyes, you watched more of his cock disappear into your mouth as you forced yourself to relax your throat, a skill you had mastered since working for him.

Nearly the entire length of your boss’ cock slipped down your throat, causing a bulge with how your airflow was completely cut off, the lining of your eyes flooding with tears from the overwhelming sensation. There was still a portion of his member that hadn’t entered the warm cavernous home of your mouth, so your hand squeezed and tugged so he was utterly stimulated.

“Fuck! I knew that pretty little mouth of yours would be trouble”, Nick groaned, trying to push his hips against the wall to try and fuck your face. You tried not to choke on his length at the tiny compliment mixed into his words.

Pulling back slowly, you made sure to suck his cock thoroughly whilst licking every inch that you could. Now you knew he liked what you could do; you were desperate to see just how much you were able to make him moan.

You deepthroated him again, choking and holding your breath, eyes continuing to water and more saliva filling your mouth. Eventually, you were able to find the perfect rhythm of bobbing your head up and down his cock, listening to the gruff quiver of his voice as his palm slapped against the wall of the toilets as he became delirious due to the pleasure.

It was nearly unbearable how turned on you were. Your throbbing clit was begging to be touched so gently you spread your knees and slipped your unused hand to gently circle it, adding pressure whenever he made a noise like a reward for yourself.

The evidence of your arousal was soaking over the tips of your thighs, drenching the two fingers being used to stimulate yourself. Eventually, you needed more, especially as your chin was becoming coated in drool as the blowjob became more sloppy. Lowering your fingers, you couldn’t help and bust in a moan that caused your throat to vibrate around the cock within as those two wet fingers slipped into your hole and curled.

“Holy shit, do that again”, Mr Fowler begged behind the thin wall. You moaned again as your hips bucked to meet your finger's movements. “That feels so fucking good, I knew I’d never regret hiring you. Do you only offer your mouth?”

You pulled off the end of his mouth with an audible ‘pop’ and swallowed thickly the considerable amount of saliva in your mouth as you tried to find your words. “No, they can have any part of me they’d like”. As you explained, you pumped his cock with both hands, forgetting about your pleasure for a moment.

“Good girl,” his praise was like a sweet symphony to your ears. “Has anyone else used the other services tonight?”

“No, Sir. Only my mouth and hands; a couple have fingered me but nothing else”.

Nick growled as his fingers appeared over the top of the cubicle as he tried to hold onto something. As you wished for a moment that, there was a camera in his toilet so you could see him flush against the wall, holding on for dear life. “So you’re telling me that all those powerful people out there are spending all their money for another four days just because of a couple of sucks and tugs? You really are special, aren’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to share you in here and keep you all to myself”.

Biting your lip, you tried to stop yourself from grinning, just listening to him becoming possessive, which was a widespread occurrence during these intimate acts. Many of the people were so overcome with the pleasure that they’d decided that they would keep you all to themselves to use if and when they needed you. Usually, it earned an eye-roll, but right now, you were dripping wet and ready to hand in your notice if it meant you could just stay by his side and suck his cock every day.

“I’d be more than happy to let you feel my other talents, sir”, you suggested before thinking it through properly. Not that you’d regret this offer, as you were incredibly horny and wanted nothing more than to please him further.

The wall between you both creaked under the pressure of Nick’s hands gripping the top as his hips began rocking, causing his cock to push and pull through the hole. “Oh, princess, you have no idea how badly I want that right now”.

With great enthusiasm, you stood on shaky legs, ignoring the pins and needles that formed in the balls of your feet, having been on your knees for so long and turned around, facing away from the glory hole. Spreading your legs and reaching between them, you grasped his cock once more and began to position him between your legs, where you closed them firmly, trapping his length between your damp thighs.

You rocked your hips, causing his dick to press against your pussy folds, rubbing your clit and for him, he was trapped in the tight, wet hold of your legs as he fucked your thighs.

“So fucking wet and soft”, he muttered under his breath, and once more, you wish you could have been watching his face, wondering if his eyes were just as glazed as how yours were feeling at that moment.

You had him fucking your thighs for a few moments longer and then decided to change things up, not wanting to wait anymore as your feet widened the stance, and his cock nudged against your hole.

The moan you released was mouthwatering for Nick as he felt the sensitive tip of his cock become lost within your tight, gummy walls. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your hips moved backwards, slowly to give yourself a chance to adjust to his thick size until your cheeks were flush against the wall.

“You’re so big, sir”, you blurt out, body shaking with trepidation at the pressure of being stretched for him.

“I am, but you’re taking me so well, Princess”. Even his encouraging words had you mewling with quivers, wanting and needing more of him.

Leaning forward, you reached out to the other side of the wall, pushing off of it to help you ride his cock in the limited position that you had with the glory hole. Thankfully, Mr Fowler began to fuck the wall, so you were both thrusting into each other with increasing speed and strength. He seemed to fit you perfectly, stroking against all of those special nerves that built the tightening warmth in your core. Each time he pushed back inside of you was like a million exploding fireworks of pleasure to blossom throughout your body. You never wanted it to end.

As you tried to rise onto your tip toes to try and push back onto his harder, your pussy suddenly clamped down harder around him, like it was laying claim to him, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go.

“Sir, oh my- I’m cumming, Sir, please don’t stop!”. You were thinking of nothing else but the cock pounding into your pussy, begging him with everything that you had for this orgasm to reach its peak.

“I can feel you, Sweetheart. So tight around my cock, you’re doing so well for me. Be a good girl and cum for me, and I’ll give you what you really want”.

Nick fucks the glory hole with even more enthusiasm as you are forced to have both hands against the opposite wall to push yourself even harder back against his cock. Your cunt was squeezing him so tightly he was nearly seeing stars as you finally came. Your knees wobbled as your walls spasmed in flutters through the orgasm, more fluid dripping down onto your thighs as you cried out for Mr Fowler.

He was shouting something as well, but you weren’t able to understand what it was he was saying as the faint, satisfied buzz filled your ears, and the edge of your orgasm began to calm. You were exhausted, but you didn’t stop fucking hard back against the cock until you were aware that there was thick, warm fluid seeping into your cunt as Nick’s thrusts stilled, his cum filling you completely.

It took all of your strength not to collapse to your knees as you both tried to recover from the fucking. As the softening cock slipped out, followed by a gush of cum was when you could finally fall back onto the pillow on the floor with a satisfied moan.

Being back in this position, you were able to watch through the hole as Nick began to tuck himself back into his suit, not even bothering to clean yours or his juices that gleamed over his length. Your cheeks warmed at this sight, knowing you’d remember it for the rest of your life.

Mr Fowler released a deep breath and reached into his back pockets, and once more, you wish you could see his face, but all you were able to see was his waistline and hands as they rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a hefty roll up of cash that he shoved through the hole and landed in your lap.

“This’ll cover any further tips you would have made for the remainder of the night. Which you can have off. Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll drive you home, Princess”.

#nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler smut #the 355 #the 355 smut #nick fowler one shot #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

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springybreak · 3 months ago

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hey so i just finished organising every dan and phil video i can find on youtube if that’s helpful

note - some of the younow’s and radio shows were reposted very close to the original date but not exact but i still kept them so some of those may be out of order

you can watch the first playlist but there are vids missing so they’ll either be on the second playlist or the neocities that is set up by @K1CKTHEPJ on twitter:

they may not be entirely polished but i spent like 9 hours straight making them from this spreadsheet so thank you so much @stillarchivingdnp for creating it:

i’m gonna keep updating btw!

#dan and phil #phan #dapg #dnp #this took over my life for a bit #youtube #dan and phil archive

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ghostchems · 2 months ago

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infernal - terzo x f!reader - part seven

and now... a flashback chapter

art by the always amazing @piaart

author’s note: i feel like shit but it helped me finish this up. plenty of terzo pain here meanwhile reader is home, blissfully unaware. i also have no idea if my writing is good at this point but here ya go! part one/two/three/four/five/six. ao3 link.

If you could see the wreck I am these days, you’d have new reasons to stay away. Just hold my hand for a little while —

Misery never goes out of style.

Terzo traces a delicate finger along one of the bags under his eyes, no longer concealed by the dark eye paint he once wore. His brows furrow at the sight of himself in the mirror. The wrinkles have deepened since he left the stage. His hair, now less lustrous, betrays gray strands emerging from his roots and sideburns. All those years spent cultivating his image, trying to become the perfect imperfection that Lucifer himself boasted—only to unravel after one fateful show. He grits his teeth, his mismatched eyes sharpening in his reflection.

With all the glitz stripped away, he loathes how much he now resembles his father…

Terzo forces the thought out of his head. His days are spent analyzing his time as Papa and what went wrong. He wouldn’t do anything differently but it still stung, especially after the new heights and exposure he had achieved for the Ministry. Somehow, it was not enough. His father was never proud of him, a theme that stretched throughout his entire life. Terzo was only ever the Third to him, the third son that would serve his purpose and then be pushed aside for whoever was next. While this had been the typical progression, Terzo was the fool who thought he would be different — even after being warned by Secondo.

Secondo.

“Cazzo.”

He’s late for Uno Night.

The once-revered Emeritus brothers now find themselves relegated to a desolate corner of the abbey with their only entertainment being a silly card game. Their influence wanes with each passing day. Terzo can't help but sneer at the irony of their situation - former leaders now barely more than forgotten relics, with only each other’s company. There was a time when the Emeritus brothers were revered as gods among men. Crowds would surge forward at their concerts, desperate to touch the hem of their robes or catch a glimpse of their painted faces. Devotees would line up for hours, sometimes days, just for the chance to receive a blessing or a fleeting moment of attention. Their every word was treated as gospel, their gestures analyzed and imitated by legions of faithful followers.

In the halls of the Ministry, their presence commanded instant respect and adoration. Ghouls and Siblings of Sin alike would bow their heads in reverence as they passed. Their chambers were filled with lavish gifts from admirers - exotic incense, priceless artifacts, and fervent love letters. The very air seemed to crackle with power and dark allure whenever they entered a room. Now, that electric atmosphere has faded to a dull static. The gifts have stopped coming, the adoring crowds have moved on to newer, shinier idols. The once-mighty Emeritus brothers find themselves grasping at the fading light of their former glory, clinging to memories of a time when they were worshipped as the embodiments of their infernal master.

He used to delicately paint his face for each meeting, a ritual of devotion to himself and his roll as Papa. But now, as he stares at his bare face, he feels a bitter resentment towards the being he once revered. The paint feels like a mask of lies, concealing the growing doubts and anger festering within him. Lucifer's promises of power and glory now ring hollow in his ears, leaving only the taste of ash and disappointment. Terzo exhales through his nose and tears himself away from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance but frustrated with the progression of his thoughts. He had grown more disillusioned by the day with the cause he so passionately promoted, the being he worshipped. Lucifer, once his guiding light, now seemed like a cruel puppeteer, manipulating him for some cosmic joke.

Omega did not like these thoughts. In fact, Terzo has begun avoiding him and instead has been seeking the company of his brothers. Perhaps the one silver lining in all of this is that he is closer than he ever has been with his true family, minus daddy dearest, of course. They had grown up together, with Primo practically raising him and Secondo after they had come to the ministry. Back then he was a true zealot - a satanic lunatic whose fervor for the dark arts knew no bounds. It was from him that Terzo learned the intricacies of their infernal faith, absorbing every ritual and incantation with wide-eyed fascination. Yet, somehow, both Terzo and Secondo emerged less fanatical than their older brother.

But still competitors, nonetheless. Secondo and Terzo had been born to different mothers three months apart so it came naturally. The more time spent together now, the more they realize how similar they can be and deep down, Terzo wishes they had not been so combative. It was encouraged, though, fed and grown by the higher ups in the ministry and their father. Maybe they feared they would be too powerful if they were close.

Now all they care about is Uno.

"Fuck!" Terzo exclaims again, his voice tinged with frustration as he runs a hand tiredly over his face. The weight of his thoughts bears down on him, but he knows he can't afford to dwell any longer. With a deep sigh, he forces himself into action, slipping his feet into his shoes - the familiar spats clicking as he gets them on. Just as he reaches for the door handle, a sharp knock echoes through the room. Terzo pauses, his hand hovering in mid-air. Irritation flashes across his face.

"Enter," he calls out, his voice tinged with impatience.

The door creaks open, revealing a young Sibling of Sin. Their face is pale, eyes wide with fear and urgency. Terzo's irritation gives way to curiosity as he takes in their disheveled appearance.

"What is it?" he asks, his tone softening slightly.

The Sibling swallows hard before speaking, their voice trembling. "Papa, I... I have news. It's about Omega."

Terzo's eyebrows furrow. "Omega? What about him?" He nonchalantly goes back to adjusting his outfit, wondering if this is another plot from the ghoul to try and make him listen to “reason”. He certainly has stooped rather low, almost as low as Terzo.

The Sibling takes a deep breath, as if steeling themselves for what they're about to say. "He's been banished, Papa. Omega has been cast out of the Ministry."

The words hit Terzo like a physical blow. He stumbles back a step, his mind reeling. "Banished?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "But... how? Why?" Pain is etched across his face.

The Sibling shakes their head, clearly as confused and shaken as Terzo. "I don't know the details, Papa. It happened so suddenly. They're saying it came from the highest levels of the Ministry."

Terzo's mind races, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Shock, confusion, and a sudden, unexpected pang of loss all vie for dominance. Despite their recent disagreements, Omega had been a constant in his life for so long. The thought of him being gone, cast out... it's almost inconceivable.

Terzo's composure shatters as the weight of the news crashes over him. His eyes flash with unbridled fury, causing the Sibling to take an involuntary step back. "Get out!" he roars, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Leave me! Now!" The Sibling, wide-eyed with fear, scrambles to obey, nearly tripping over their own feet in their haste to escape. Terzo slams the door with such force that the entire room seems to shake, the sound echoing through the corridors like a thunderclap.

As soon as the barrier between him and the outside world is secure, everything crumbles. A primal roar of anguish and frustration tears from his throat, echoing off the walls of his private chambers. In a whirlwind of unbridled emotion, he lashes out at his surroundings. His fist connects with the ornate mirror adorning his vanity, the impact sending a spider web of cracks across its surface before it shatters completely. Shards of glass rain down, glittering in the dim light like fallen stars.

But Terzo's rage demands more destruction. He overturns his meticulously organized desk, unleashing an avalanche of papers, pens, and trinkets onto the floor. Books, once neatly arranged on shelves, are torn free and flung across the room, their pages fluttering like disoriented birds. His wardrobe—a carefully curated collection of robes and suits that once symbolized his power and prestige—falls victim to his fury next. Garments are ripped from hangers and strewn about haphazardly, silk and velvet mingling with the debris below. Spotting one of his Papal robes, an early prototype, he seizes it and tears, splitting seams and fabric into pieces with savage force.

He could kill them. End the reign of his father and Sister Imperator with a knife to their throats, a hammer to their heads. He’s capable and he’s angry.

But that’s not who Terzo is.

His appetite for destruction is as swift as it is thorough. When the storm of his anger finally subsides, Terzo finds himself standing amidst the wreckage of his once-immaculate quarters. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, his knuckles having bloodied his gloves from his outburst. The room, previously a testament to his refined tastes and exalted position, now lies in utter ruin around him. He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as the full weight of what has transpired begins to settle upon him.

The dust settles around him, both literally and figuratively, as his mind wanders to Omega. Their relationship, once the core of his existence within the Ministry, had deteriorated over the past several months, transforming into a strained and tenuous connection. The rift between them had widened, growing into a seemingly unbridgeable gap that threatened to swallow everything they shared whole. Omega, ever faithful of their infernal master, had persistently begged Terzo to embrace what he perceived as a well-deserved retirement—a supposed reward bestowed upon them by Lucifer himself for their years of unwavering service and dedication.

"Papa, you've more than earned this rest," Omega would implore, his eyes blazing with sheer intensity behind his cool mask that Terzo found increasingly difficult to look at. "Our Dark Lord Lucifer, in his infinite wisdom, has granted you this period of rest and reflection. Why do you persist in resisting? Can you not see the honor in this gift he has bestowed upon you?"

But for Terzo, the notion of settling into a life of idle luxury felt suffocating—a gilded cage that threatened to strip away everything he had fought so hard to achieve. The very thought of turning his back on the empire he had painstakingly built, nurtured, and expanded over the years felt like a betrayal of who he is and what defines him. As time wore on, his arguments with Omega grew increasingly heated and frequent, his frustration mounting with each tense exchange, threatening to boil over into hostility.

"You call this rest, Omega?" Terzo would retort, his voice rising with each impassioned word, hands gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. "This isn't rest—it's nothing short of exile, a banishment from everything I've ever known and loved! How can you, of all people, expect me to sit idly by, content to watch as everything I've dedicated my life to—my very existence—crumbles around me like dust?" The air between them would crackle with tension during these confrontations, an electric charge that made it increasingly difficult for them to occupy the same space without the risk of conflict erupting at any moment.

Now, with the shocking news of Omega's sudden and unexpected banishment reverberating through the chambers of his mind, Terzo finds himself consumed with emotion. Relief, guilt, anger, and a profound sense of loss intertwine in a dizzying dance, each vying for dominance in the turbulent landscape of his mind. Despite their recent differences and the ever-widening divide between them, Omega had been a constant, unwavering presence in Terzo's life for longer than he cared to remember—a touchstone of familiarity. His abrupt absence leaves a gaping void in the fabric of Terzo's existence, a wound so deep and raw that he isn't certain he possesses the means to heal it.

Even with the turmoil raging inside him, Terzo finds himself drawn to the familiar comfort of his brothers' company. With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture and smooths down his attire, a reflexive gesture from years of public appearances. He may be struggling, but he'll be damned if he lets it show—at least not to them. They have all had their hardships. If anyone knows and understands what he is feeling right now, it is his brothers. Terzo’s steps are heavy, using his feet to clear a path forward amidst everything now on the floor. He reaches the door, hesitating for just a moment. There’s a weight pressing down on him that threatens to crush him, to break him down until there’s nothing left.

He won’t let it.

Terzo opens the door and leaves his room. As he makes his way towards the small room where their Uno nights are held, his mind goes blank, going numb to the intense feelings that are simmering beneath the surface. He trudges down the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls, focusing on that sound to keep him grounded. As he rounds a corner, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, a familiar voice catches his attention, causing him to halt abruptly.

Turning, he sees Cardinal Copia emerging from his office, a stack of papers tucked under one arm and an Uno card inexplicably held between two fingers of his free hand. The Cardinal's painted face breaks into a warm smile as he spots Terzo, oblivious to the storm brewing within the former Papa.

"Ah, Papa, on your way to Uno Night, yes?” The cheerful greeting hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the darkness swirling within Terzo.

Terzo's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching so tightly he can hear his teeth grind. The sight of him, so content and oblivious to the turmoil raging through the Ministry, ignites a fire in Terzo's chest—one that he had hoped was extinguished following his outburst in his room. His eyes narrow as he regards Copia with barely contained irritation. "Uno Night," he repeats, his voice low and controlled, though tension radiates from every syllable. "Mmm… yes." He takes a step closer to Copia, his presence suddenly looming and intimidating.

Copia's smile falters slightly, but he presses on, still oblivious and sweet. "It's become quite the tradition with your brothers, hasn't it?" He hesitates for a moment, then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a blue reverse card. He holds it out to Terzo, a tentative peace offering. "Here, Papa. I always keep this one for luck. Perhaps... perhaps you'd like to have it for tonight's game?"

Terzo's gaze sharpens dangerously as he struggles to maintain his composure. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, fingers digging into his biceps. The sight of that blue card in Copia's hand—a symbol of the carefree life he now leads—causes the fire to spread inside him, consuming him yet again. Terzo’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and menacing, barely above a whisper.

"Tradition?" His voice is guttural and rough. "You dare speak to me of tradition when everything is crumbling around us? When the very foundations of our world are ripped away from us?" His words are full of anguish and rage, each one striking Copia like a physical blow.

The Cardinal stumbles back, his expression morphing from confusion to outright fear. "P-Papa, I... I don't understand-" he stammers, his voice trembling.

"Of course you don't understand!" Terzo cuts him off, his composure shattering completely. "You're nothing but a pawn, a naive fool dancing to their twisted tune!" He gestures wildly, his movements sharp and erratic. "Do you have any idea what's happening beyond your little bubble of blissful ignorance? Omega is gone! Banished! Cast out like yesterday's trash! And here you stand, grinning like a fool, oblivious to the chaos swirling around you!"

Copia's eyes widen in shock, the full weight of Terzo's words finally sinking in. "Omega? But how- Why-" he begins, but Terzo is far from finished.

Terzo snatches the blue Uno card from Copia's hand, gripping it so hard it begins to crumble in his grip. "And this?" he spits, brandishing it like damning evidence. "You think this changes anything? You think a game can fix what's broken? This card, this... this mockery of what we once were!" His voice rises to a near-scream. "Do you have any idea what this represents? It's not just a game, you fool! It's everything we've lost, everything that's been taken from us!"

With a primal yell that seems to shake the very stones of the corridor, Terzo tears the card to shreds. The pieces flutter between them like confetti, a mockery of celebration in this moment of utter despair. Copia flinches, raising his hands as if to shield himself from the physical manifestation of Terzo's rage.

"P-Papa, please," Copia stammers, his voice barely above a whisper, a plea for understanding, for mercy. "I didn't mean to-"

But Terzo is beyond reason, beyond mercy. His voice drops to a low, dangerous hiss, each word dripping with venom. "Get out of my sight," he commands, his tone brooking no argument. "You don't belong here. You never will. You're nothing but a pale imitation, a cheap replacement for something you could never hope to understand. And take your pathetic games with you!"

As Copia retreats, practically running down the corridor, Terzo stands amidst the scattered remains of the card. His chest heaves with each ragged breath, anger and grief warring within him. In the sudden silence, the weight of his actions begins to settle upon him. He knows, in some distant corner of his mind, that he's overreacted, that Copia isn't truly to blame for the chaos engulfing their world. But in this moment, all he can feel is the crushing weight of loss - of his position, of Omega, of everything he once held dear. And that damned Uno card, now in pieces at his feet, seems to mock him with its cheerful blue color, a stark contrast to the darkness consuming his soul.

If only he could reverse being removed from the Papacy.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Terzo straightens his posture and adjusts his shirt in an attempt to calm himself. He struggles to push down the turmoil within, determined not to let his brothers see his inner struggle. As he approaches the card room, he steels himself, forcing his face into a mask of nonchalance.

Opening the door, he finds his brothers already seated. An almost startling wave of relief washes over him. He allows a scoff to escape his lips at the sight of Primo, face fully painted and wearing a Burberry scarf. Before he can comment, Secondo interjects.

"Already gave him trouble for it, stronzino. If you'd been on time, you could've joined." There's a glint of mischief in Secondo's eyes.

Terzo rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his best efforts to maintain his aloof facade. He saunters over to the table, pulling up a chair with dramatic flair. "Well, shall we begin? I'm feeling particularly lucky tonight." He shoots a pointed look at Secondo, silently accepting the challenge in his brother's gaze.

He settles into his seat and the feeling of relief continues to spread through him. Here, surrounded by his brothers and the familiar rhythm of an extremely low-stakes card game, he can momentarily push aside his anger and frustration. In this room, he's not the fallen Papa or a disappointment to the Ministry - he's simply Terzo, the youngest of the Emeritus brothers, ready to lose himself in the game and forget, if only for a while, how far he has fallen.

On this particular evening, Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil would make an unexpected appearance, delivering news that would leave the brothers startled and confused.

They would be unable to continue their card game.

Terzo is deep in his desk chair, his body nearly slipped from it onto the floor. His gaze is locked on the the hell phone which has been ringing nonstop since you left for the night. Your taste is still on his tongue, your scent clinging to his robe. He’s afraid to move to disturb the haze he’s settled into, even though you would be back bright and early for work the morning after next. Fingers fall to his temples, rubbing them with each piercing ring of the phone.

He wouldn’t answer. He doesn’t want to face who is on the other line.

Was it Omega? What could he possibly say? He would only complicate matters—as he already has. The hell phone materialized before you, and you listened to the sounds of the abyss. It drove you into Terzo's arms and bed, but... you didn't deserve to experience such terrors or feel so frightened in his home. Or at least, if anyone was going to frighten you it should be him. His fingers drum along the arms of the chair, a deep grumble vibrating from his chest. The goal is to get you to stay, to devote yourself to him and only him. Yet the fear gnaws at him. What if the terrors you've witnessed push you away? The thought of losing you to the very darkness he once revered sends a chill through him. He wants you by his side, but you have to want to be there. Perhaps, he muses bitterly, this is another of Lucifer's cruel jokes—dangling happiness before him, only to threaten it with the very forces he once embraced.

Maybe the imp who fixed your tire that Terzo had shredded was calling. What was that all about? He didn’t have time to mull that incident over earlier while you were here. Is he manifesting things?

The memory of when he had accidentally shocked you resurfaces, Terzo's frown deepens. He recalls the pain on your face when he zapped your wrist. His gaze drifts to his hands, studying them as if they belong to a stranger. These hands that once commanded crowds, that channeled unholy energies with precision and purpose, now feel like unpredictable weapons. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar tingle of power just beneath his skin. What if he hurts you again?

Another memory flits to the forefront of his mind — when he screamed at you over his relics being displayed causing a lightbulb to shatter. He remembers the fear in your eyes as it happened. It wasn't Lucifer's doing—it was his own power, his own lack of control. The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. Perhaps the true threat to your happiness, to any chance of a future together, isn't some external force or cosmic joke. It's him.

The silver lining is that you had seemed to be… into it. But what if next time, it's worse than a small shock or a broken bulb?

The thought sends a wave of despair crashing over him. Is he doomed to be alone, forever isolated by the very gifts that once made him special? The irony isn't lost on him—he who once reveled in his dark powers, who used them to seduce and enthrall, now fears them as the very thing that might drive you away. Terzo slumps further in his chair. The illusion of his perfection continues to fade but he’s stubborn. Unwilling to change his ways even though he knows he can be cruel and difficult.

He originally expected you to just deal with it.

Terzo rises with a frustrated growl, letting the hell phone continue its incessant ringing. He stalks over to his liquor cabinet, hands trembling slightly as he pours himself a generous measure of whiskey. What have you done to him? How dare you make him want to be better? He decides he must, at the very least, attempt to protect you from whatever hell seemingly has in store for you. This includes tempering his emotions, an obvious factor of his otherworldly abilities. Seriously, how dare you?

Taking a long swig, he savors the burn as it slides down his throat. It's a familiar comfort, one that does little to reduce the budding anxiety he feels. With a heavy sigh, he turns his back on the still-ringing phone and retreats to his bedroom, drink in hand. The door closes behind him, muffling the sound of the hell phone but he can still feel its presence. Terzo takes another sip, hoping to drink himself into unconsciousness.

Only two sleeps until he sees you again.

#terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfiction

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bennysblabbering · 3 months ago

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A Meaningful Gift

Kinktober: "Pet Play" || Keigo Takami x reader

contents: post-canon, sub!hawks, powerbottom!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional sex

words: 3k

(an image is linked when the gift is mentioned!)

g/n afab reader

↓ Fic below the cut ↓

Ever since losing his quirk during the war, your boyfriend was never quite the same. Losing his wings the first time was hard enough, but at least they made somewhat of a return with his smaller and narrower pair. This time, his wings were completely destroyed with absolutely no chance of coming back. Those radiant scarlet appendages were everything; his identity, the source of his quirk, and his icon both as a hero and a person. Who was he without his flight? What good is a bird of prey if it falls to the level of its flightless kin? Lately, he’d been feeling useless and broken. But to you, his partner, he was the same man you’d fallen in love with; he always would be.

Recently, you spotted something online and knew you needed to buy it immediately. Luckily when you’d approached him and asked for his measurements, he didn’t bat an eye. Both Christmas and his birthday were approaching fast, and he’d made the assumption you were buying him some new clothes; he did need new shirts without holes in the back anyway. Of course you had bought some clothes as well, but this one was something special. You were crossing your fingers that this would make him happy- you’d been trying everything to bring that charming smile back onto your lover’s face, but you hadn’t seen it in so long you’d been starting to forget what it looked like.

If you were brutally honest with yourself…his change in demeanor was putting a strain on your relationship. You knew this was something he couldn’t help; it’s expected to be depressed from grieving over the loss of a sense of identity. But…the time you spent together started to dwindle. Not only were you going out together significantly less, but your life in the bedroom had taken a severe hit. Only months ago you were making passionate love for hours, but now he’d hardly even kiss you goodnight. Every time you asked him if he wanted to talk about his feelings or if you could help him in any way, he’d just brush you off.

Your heart and body yearned for the way things were in your early relationship, with burning devotion and a youthful giddiness. The way you felt about him was something you’d never quite felt with anyone before, and you’d do anything to keep from losing someone who meant the world to you.

As you’re sitting on the couch, your phone lights up with the notification that your order was delivered. You hop up excitedly to make your way over, opening the door and picking up the package. It looked so plain and unassuming- one would never be able to tell what the intimate contents were inside just from looking at it. Walking to the dining table, you find a pair of scissors to cut the tape around the edges and lift the lid, gasping at how beautiful it was in-person. You pull it out of the fancy tissue paper and turn it in your hands to get a good look at it.

An elegant red leather harness with small wings protruding from the back. Wings that looked so much like his.

“Hey birdie.” You greet your boyfriend as he gently closes the front door from being out making appearances- despite being retired, he still had quite a bit of publicity work to do. His face briefly tenses at the nickname; in his eyes, he’s not your birdie anymore. He’s not a birdie at all. He lets you continue to use it because he knows you find it cute, but on the inside he wants to say he’s not worthy of that name anymore. He silently gives you a small kiss on the cheek, gently placing his hand on your waist and stroking it for a moment before heading towards your shared bedroom.

“Wait.”

He stops walking and turns to you with a hint of inquisitiveness in his eyes. “Hm?”

You nod to the couch with your head, asking him to move in the direction. “C’mere. Sit with me. I’ve got something for you. For us, I guess.” You offer him an affectionate look with a soft smile. Now curious, he walks over to sit on the soft seat, resting his arms on his knees as he bends over slightly. Making room for large wings was second-nature to him, but he often forgot he no longer needed to accommodate for them. He sighs, remembering the empty space behind him, leaning back and crossing his legs. “What is it?”

You start to feel anxious as the reality of this was finally hitting you. Would he like it or would it just traumatize him further? Would he be offended? At such a sensitive time in your relationship, this could make or break everything. Well…it’s too late to back down.

“You know Christmas and your birthday are around the corner, and I found something online that made me think of you. I wanted to wait, but I got too excited.” You chuckle nervously as you reach under the piece of furniture, pulling out a medium flat box, adorned with a shiny bow. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it. Honestly, if it makes you mad…I would understand that too.” The box is passed to his scarred hands from your shaking ones as he takes in the pretty packaging. The golden eyes of the exhausted man observe the bow of the matching color, humming. “It’s pretty.”

You smile with a huff. “Yeah. The gift is on the inside, though.”

He snorts, the first time you’ve heard even a hint of a laugh from him for weeks. Your heart flutters with that same feeling it had every time he laughed when you had a crush on him so long ago, unbelieving it would ever be mutual with someone as wonderful as him.

He slowly unties the bow with his fingers, delicately opening the lid as if it were made of glass. He takes in a gentle gasp as his brows raise in surprise. He turns it around a few times and closely inspects the wings on the back, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. He curls his lips in, trying so hard not to do what he’s been wanting to do most for so long.

“Oh my god.”

A single tear runs down his cheek and he knows he’s done for. The walls he’s had up ever since his career came down have finally begun to crumble as he leans on your shoulder, softly weeping into the crook of your neck. Your heart pounds hard in fear as you take a moment to wrap your head around what’s happening. “Did I fuck up? I’m so fucking sorry, I never meant-”

He drops the harness onto his lap, taking your face into his hands as he presses his quivering lips to yours. This is by far the most he’s expressed himself in a long time, and your intense pulse of fear switches to one of love. Your hands instinctively move to embrace him, one wrapping around him and the other weaving your fingers through his hair as the two of you share a kiss that feels like the first time all over again.

He loves it.

Parting from the kiss, your eyes meet with his and you let out a relieved laugh. “I was so scared when you started crying.” He chuckles in response, sniffling with a small smile. “No, no baby, I…it’s…beautiful. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do,” you respond with a bump on the forehead and a kiss to his nose. “My pretty birdie.”

His smile fades a bit, his amber gaze falling to the floor; he chews on his bottom lip as the tears on his face continue to fall. “No…I’m not. I’m not anyone’s birdie anymore.”

You shake your head, tutting as you move your other arm down, wrapping him in a tighter embrace. “Hey, don’t talk like that. You’ll always be my birdie. Always.” You sit up, sliding your hands around to the front of his waist and wrap your fingers around the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up just an inch. “You wanna put it on?”

He sniffles again, nodding and wiping away a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Yeah…yeah.”

Lifting his shirt up and over his head, you can see the major scars littering his back; the burns from the first time still clearly visible, as well as the ones from the final war. You place a few kisses to his exposed back before leaning in to whisper into his ear affectionately. “Thank you for letting me see you like this…I’m sure it’s hard.” He nods with a deep breath. You’ve seen his back a million times, but never after the last war. He pulls the leather straps over his head, finding the right places to stick his arms through.

He feels nervous and vulnerable as he sits and waits patiently for you to tighten the straps. When you're finished, you wrap your arms around him from behind, giving him a soft kiss on his neck. “You look beautiful, my love.” You place another kiss, smiling against his skin. “My birdie.”

You swear you hear him whine in response.

He turns his face slightly, his cheeks adorned with a red dusting as he smiles a little. “Yeah?”

You gently stroke his waist before moving your hands to his torso, petting affectionately. “Yeah.”

He reaches back, scratching your scalp as the blush on his face deepens. “Do you…do you remember that leash we used to use?”

You blink. “Like, during sex? I…yeah. What, you wanna…..”

He gulps. “Yeah….yeah, I miss that. It was nice.”

“You know, I gotta say…I was anticipating a lot of different reactions, but ‘turned on’ wasn’t one of them.”

You both share a laugh for a moment before your gazes meet and soften. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away in embarrassment. “I know it’s been awhile since…we’ve done anything, it’s fine if you don’t wanna. ’Specially since I was just, you know, crying and all.”

“No, no, it’s okay…I want to.” Your lips find their way to his neck again, this time more sensual and lingering a little bit longer. You haven’t been able to kiss him like this in a long time, and now that he wants it, you can feel yourself heating up quickly. You kiss his neck again, biting down gently and sucking. This time, his whine is clearly audible.

Talking in a low and intimate tone, you speak softly against his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom…I still remember where the leash is.” A small happy chirp escapes him- despite losing his quirk and wings, his subtle bird-like tendencies still ran in his DNA. You scoop him up into your arms, carrying him bridal style as he looks into your eyes like you hung the stars in the sky. His love for you never left- it was just buried under the rubble of the war. All he needed was a little help to dig up and find the surface.

You nudge the door open with your knee, setting him down on the sheets gently. You place a small kiss on his forehead with a smile, stroking his chest before standing up to make your way over to the closet and rummage around.

“Where is it….aha!”

The glint of the chain catches your eye, and you pull it out of the corner, awkwardly wiping off the dust with your fingers. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a silver chain leash with a black leather handle, but it was enough for the both of you to enjoy using. He was more of a giver in bed, and he especially loved when you’d attach the leash to a pretty collar and order him to do things to you while playing up on his bird-like tendencies.

“Hm…so this is what you missed?” You turn around, holding the leash wrapped around your fingers, wiggling your hand playfully with a smirk. Your eyes can’t help but take notice of the visible tent already present in his pants. Looking back up at his face, his blush has deepened and he has a bashful smile. He nods, acutely aware that you could tell how excited he was.

You attach the clasp to the metal ring on the center of his chest with a soft click as he looks up at you with the biggest innocent doe eyes you’ve ever seen. Putting him in this mindset again has him remembering just how enamored he is with you. You’ve always been so sweet to him, taking such good care of him and treating him like the pretty bird he is. He sighs and hums as you stroke his cheek, closing his eyes as he slowly falls deeper into subspace. “Hmmm…”

You chuckle, letting go of the leash for just a moment as you pull your clothes off and kick them to the side. Picking the leash back up, you tap his chin.

“C’mon baby bird, open your eyes. I want those pants off, now.”

He nods quickly as he lifts his hips off the bed, pulling down his pants and freeing his erection. He was clearly very excited by the way it stood completely upright, standing tall and proud with a reddened head. You lick your lips and gaze down at him with heavy eyes. “Someone’s eager, isn’t he~?”

He whimpers, nodding again rapidly, his painfully hard cock twitching at your words alone. “Didn’t realize how much I needed you. ‘S been so long. I need you bad, baby.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you need then, hm?”

He swallows, his expression that of a needy puppy as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “I need…I need to be inside you, please…I miss it so much…please…”

“....please what?”

“Please….master.”

“Good boy.” You finally join him on the bed, crawling up to the pillows as you lay on your back with open legs and pull on the leash, asking him to move on top of you. “Come.”

He instinctually responds with a choked whimper as he crawls on all fours up to you. You spread your folds for him to see, and his pupils blow wide from seeing you were just as excited as he was. He lines his now leaking cock up to your entrance, pushing in with a long moan from the both of you. You hadn’t felt the pleasant stretch of his cock in ages and it felt like heaven.

Once snugly nestled entirely inside of you, your eyes meet as you sigh. You hum softly as you stroke his cheek, and he leans into the touch with a subtle chirp. You sneak your fingers up to run your fingertips through his tawny locks, as soft as ever- he’d been growing it out again and it was almost to the length it used to be.

You pull his head down to meet his plush lips with yours; as your lips slowly press against one another, he starts to move his hips, slow enough that you could feel every inch every time it slid in and out of you. You could feel the perfect stretch on every inward thrust and it made you gasp every time. Parting from the kiss, you lean your head back into the pillow underneath you and keep a strong grip on the handle of the leash as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Good boy…that’s a good fucking boy…”

Upon hearing the praise, he starts to thrust a bit faster and with more vigor, clearly motivated by your encouraging words. “Y-yeah? I’m your good boy?”

You chuckle, nodding as you moan a bit louder, your body being pushed back and forth with the force of his body moving against yours. “Oh yes, so good for me, my pretty birdie. My good little baby bird. Keep going, you feel so good…”

Your praise and motivational words make him even more eager to please you, wanting to make up for every moment of intimacy you both had lacked for a while. He places his hands on your hips, thrusting as hard as he possibly could, feeling his sanity and ability to hold back slipping away.

“W-wanna make you feel so good, master…a-are you feeling good?”

You could barely make out words anymore as your eyes roll back into your head with the intense pleasure, only being able to respond with a meek nod and a few shaky words. “G-good…r..rub my clit…please…”

He nods, reaching a hand down to press his thumb against the sensitive bud. You respond with a loud cry as you pull on the leash, craving his lips on your exposed skin. He complies obediently, placing warm and wet kisses along your neck and collarbone while continuing to fuck into you like his life depended on it; right now, every bone in his body wanted only to please you. Nothing more, nothing less.

You feel a familiar tightening in your core, and you don’t even have enough time to warn him before your climax crashes over you. One hand grips onto the leash and pulls him impossibly closer, the other wrapping around him and holding onto the harness for dear life as your orgasm completely takes hold of your body. He closely follows suit, pressing his hips against you as hard as he can, filling you with his cum with a drawn-out shaky moan. A wave of euphoria synchronizes your bodies as you both orgasm simultaneously, uniting once again after such a long time without.

He stays inside you for another minute, laying on top of you with a satisfied exhale. “Fuck…that was incredible. I love you so much.”

Your fingers find their way into his hair again, and you turn to look at him with a tender and loving smile. “I love you too.”

You reach down to unclip the leash, but keep the harness on; it was clear that wearing it would help him cope a little easier. It seemed that all your boyfriend needed was just a little reminder that he would always be loved, no matter what.

Wings or not, he would always be your pretty birdie.

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prone-to-fleeting-obsessions · 7 months ago

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Dating Sunday Affection hc's

I have now played 2.2, no spoilers though

If you're the kind of person that really likes spontaneity, Sunday probably isn't the person for you...

He's got about five itineraries going at once

What meals are being prepared, the clothing you'll wear through the week, exactly what days chores need to be done on, all on top of his meetings and other droning work

So, pretty much all dates and outings are preplanned down to the most insignificant details, ensuring everything runs perfectly

Sunday needs control of his environment

Any little hitch could be a potential threat to your safety!

Chances are, most of the outings and time spent together outside of your shared home, is done in the dreamscape, where he has complete control

Lovely little picnics with the most exquisite view of the beautiful dreamscape sky, or any view you want really, will be off limits to everyone else (except maybe a few trusted dreamweavers, in order to ensure nothing happens)

He's an anxious mess, though he hides it well, every time anyone else approaches you for any reason, his arm around you always, pulling you right into him so he's prepared

That being said, he does truly enjoy going out with you

Walking around the dreamscape, holding your hand or linking arms as he watches all of your perfect reactions with a soft smile, tightening his hold a little when he worries you might run off...

His eyes rarely leave your face in those moments, as if trying to memorize every little micro expression

"I'm merely curious on what you find most pleasing. We're always looking for guest feedback, love." He'll tell you with a reassuring little quirk of his lips, as if his eyes don't soften every time you smile

He's partly true to his word, taking mental notes of everything you like to implement it further, and maybe even make a particular little slice of the dreamscape all for you

One where you can live happily forever, with every little thing you could ever want... It consumes his mind most waking hours

Affection wise he's always very reserved in public, and even embarrassed easily in private at the beginning

That fades soon enough, with him happily taking every opportunity to remind you how much he loves your sweet smile

He unconsciously covers the two of you kissing with his wings, as if creating a little shield, even in private

His wings in particular are known to show his emotions far more than his practiced expressions, twitching and fluttering and even flapping right in front of his face when surprised

When annoyed they'll fluff a little, and when really angry they look as sharp as blades

In public he usually kisses your hand, looking up into your eyes while doing so in a way that feels far too intimate

A lot of his public acts are subtle, adopting your walking pace, keeping a close eyes on your heart rate, gently guiding you when you stray a bit, glaring at anyone who gets too close

He'll probably always default to big spoon, to holding you and comforting you and dote on you

He just wants your happiness, your satisfaction, your safety...

Everything he does is for you

During the beginning of your relationship, he tenses at every little unexpected noise

Being the partner of a powerful figure can be dangerous!

It's not his fault he lays awake at night, watching your breath with unblinking eyes, grappling with these horribly overwhelming feeling of desperation

You need to be safe. You need to be safe.

He's not particularly fond of having his eyes off of you, but the eyes of trusted bodyguards will have to suffice for when he has no choice...

This is especially true with the fear of "death" in the dreamscape at it's peak... You won't spend a single second out of his sight, if he lets you enter the dreamscape at all

The strong should protect the weak, it's his responsible to protect you, in every way possible, no matter what, forever...

He loves you, an overwhelming amount, a truly heartbreakingly tragic amount

No matter what, he hopes you'll love him too

#honkai star rail #hsr sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #my hcs #i have mixed feelings on him after that quest...#but I'll support his rights and his wrongs #x reader

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moosha-mushroom · 6 months ago

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Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.

TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.

Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.

Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.

The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.

Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.

Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.

Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.

The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.

Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.

Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.

I am losing my mind.

#the magnus archives #malevolent #welcome to night vale #the penumbra podcast #wolf 359 #midnight burger #desert skies #the amelia project #ghost wax #kakos industries

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doremimosasol · 11 months ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 - 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ⟡

warnings: suggestive, sharp blade, blood, a bit toxic but kinda sweet too at certain times

word count: 2,8 k

summary: Tom Riddle, the hardworking student, fascinated by you

Tom Riddle, known for his driven mindset but passionate behind closed doors.

It was hard to really get to know the real him, to break through those walls he built around himself. He had always told himself lovers and even friends would distract him from his goal to always over-succeed. He needed to be the best, he needed to know everything they taught at school. He needed to know more.

As a person, like yourself, who studied a lot, it wasn't hard to see him regularly. Tom practically lived in the library, often pulling an all-nighter at any given opportunity. He had his way of tricking Filch into thinking the library was empty and not being able to find him. He often spent time in the restricted section but that didn't give him a chance to analyze the behavior of people around him. So he only visited that part of the library if he really needed to. He didn’t like being around people but the library was the perfect place to really get to know a person.

It may looked like he didn't care about people at Hogwarts, but he was a watcher. In his opinion, watching people study was the best way for him to draw out their personalities. He was intelligent but plain enough to only link people's self-worth to their dedication to their studies.

People sleeping in the library. Those were the ones that didn't have their 8 hours of sleep during the night. Not because of the endless hours studying but because of their weak-minded behavior to party at any given time. They were often Gryffindors, but his own house succeeded in making him disappointed too. It's the reason for him to stay in the library so often, the parties in the common room giving him a headache. Mornings after parties weren’t better for him either. Hungover people all around the place, hoping someday Professor Snape might find them in this state. He’d love to see them get detention.

Ravenclaws. Always putting on the act of the perfect student, while he knew well enough that half of them didn't even study for desire for knowledge. Some of them lived under a lot of pressure, making him almost sympathize with them — no — that was not possible. They were always trying to confirm the expectations of the others. It wasn't a gift. They pained themselves to prove their worth through their grades. But he was always the one they couldn't pass.

Students not using the library for proper end-goals. The kissing in the library drove him mad. There were enough places for one to eat one another's face but they always seemed to decide to do it in the library. What about a room? Anyway, he had his proper way of handling these kinds of students. A way that may or may not make them end up in the hospital wing. Nothing serious, just gluing their lips together with a simple spell. It wasn't pleasant but certainly made them leave. And he didn't have to listen to the awful noises.

Loud students. Same consequences as the kissing students but this time their own lips shut together. It wasn’t a hard spell to reverse. Poor them for not knowing the counter spell, should’ve paid some more attention in class.

You. You were different, always driven to reach the top of the class. Your determination almost — ALMOST — made him feel bad for you not succeeding. Because no one would ever reach the top place as long as he was in school.

You were often the person sitting there too at night. He analyzed your behavior every night. You were different, you took your studies seriously too, and seemed to enjoy it just as much he did.

It seems as if DADA was your favorite subject, noticing the small smile on your face when you had your nose in those textbooks. It was intriguing to him, to see how passionate you were while studying. And especially passionate about his favorite subject too.

This was the first time he'd ever been interested in another student. He wasn't experienced in relationships at all, whether they were romantically or just a friendship. He soon fell into an obsessive spiral, wishing you'd be in the library too when he was there. Figuring out your schedule just by sight of your direction in the hallways. It was unhealthy but you never left his mind, it almost made his grades drop by some percent.

You also noticed him in the library, intrigued by him yourself. He was elegant and charming and the way he spoke made your heart flutter. The guy just radiated intelligence. You caught yourself staring at him quite some times in the library, hoping he’d never notice. Silly you, of course, he did.

It took him weeks to build up the courage to even make the slightest move. He left a small note between the pages of your book while you were gone to get another one. From his seat, he waited for your reaction, even dropping his work just to not miss the smile that formed on your face when you opened the pages it lay in between.

"If a certain someone is on your mind while reading this, take the risk.

-TR"

The moment you lifted your eyes from the small note, yours met his. Tom Riddle. Drawn to the darkness and mystery that surrounded him.

The strange desire that flowed through both your veins reflected in each other's eyes. Neither of you saying anything. When he stood up to leave the library, you immediately picked up his intentions. He wanted you to follow him. A few seconds after he left, you stood up too, following closely behind him.

He stood still in the hallway, his back facing you as you stopped a few meters behind him. The tension was palpable, the only sound in the corridor being both of your breaths. A pace of breathing that quickened every passing second.

"Follow me." His voice echoed through the hallway, it was alluring…

You were contemplating whether to do as he told, but something in you was so damn drawn to him. You were pulled to him like a magnet, your feet following without listening to the signals your brain was giving to you.

He then stopped in front of a wall...?

Suddenly a large door appeared in it and he looked back at you with that typical smirk of his, he was proud of showing this discovery to you. He extended his hand out to the door, it opened magically. "Ladies first, of course."

He looked down at you and behind the darkness that filled his eyes, you could sense a small light flickering behind them. Like a small fire in a deep obscure cave, pulling you closer into the cave. Like a moth to a flame, drawn to the light in the cave.

As you entered the door, your eyes almost fell out of your sockets. Has this always been hidden in the castle? You looked back at him, the surprise on your face was obvious.

"You like it?" He walked closer to you, your heart beating faster at every step he took.

When he was right in front of you, he leaned his head closer to your ear. His breath was warm against the side of your face, a shiver going down your spine at the sensation. "You can keep a secret, right?"

He leaned his head back again, his eyes tracing all your features, pupils dilating. His fingers came into contact with your cheeks, dragging them down slowly until he reached the top of your shirt. Gently he loosened your tie, still looking at you like you were his own personal art piece. "You fascinate me."

"What is it that interests you in Dark Magic?" He slowly traced your collarbone, waiting for a response from you. "Mhmm?"

"I don't know... The secrets and mystery draw me towards it." You didn’t know how to explain it, just keeping it to some simple words. He raised his brows slightly at your confession.

"Is that so? I can give you just as many secrets Dark Magic holds..." He pushed a lock of hair in your face behind your ear. "Even more."

"Are you interested in finding out?"

You probably shouldn't have been…

It was since that day, that Tom and you had these secret meetings. He often took you back to the Room of Requirement during several nights. He taught you new things, in more ways than you could imagine. It seemed as if he was experienced in everything. Everything except love.

As the year progressed, you woke up more times in that room than in your own dorm room. Waking up in his warm arms as he traced his fingers over your bare back. It was a habit of his. He traced every single mole he could find on you, worshipping your body as if it were his reason to live.

His reason to love...

Love.

Love wasn't always that convenient in a relationship with Tom Riddle. The kisses barely weighed out the tears you had spilled during only those few months. They were heavy but he was worth it.

It was the toxic kind of love.

But he was sweet, in a way Tom could ever be sweet.

Nights with Tom were rough, wild, and passionate. The aftermath coloring your body the day after and some even weeks after. He was rough but he knew how to fix you after he almost ruined you. He'd lie if he didn't like to see you in that state. Satisfied by the way he was able to feel unimaginable things again and again. Nothing pleased him more than him pleasing you. Your face was at its most beautiful when you reached the edge. The look of it haunts his mind every single day. Gosh, he believed you were the most beautiful person in the whole school, in the whole world. Your hair spread out on the mattress, your face left with an afterglow, your chest sweaty, and your neck covered in his love.

But there was always something missing, something that made you his. Something that screamed his name. Something that could remind everyone whom you belonged to. Something that would stay with you forever. Something that would bind you to him in a way that was unbreakable…

It was when you two were studying alone in his room that it came to his mind. His eyes averted to the blade that lay on his desk. It was richly decorated with small emerald stones, a snake hugging the handle. It was one of the objects that clearly displayed his heirloom. One of the only things from his heritage that he kept close to him.

He looked back at you, sitting on his bed. You looked so precious in that moment, your eyes tracing the words on the paper of the book you were reading. It was a book he gave to you. It gave an in-depth study of the unforgivable curses: their past, present, and future. His future...

"Darling?" You looked up at him with sparkling eyes, his stomach twisting at the sight of you.

"What is it, Tom?" You straightened yourself on the bed and put down your book, noticing he seemed serious about something. It was a look you knew oh so well. Either you’d be lectured and crying yourself to sleep or tears would stream down your face due to something completely different.

"Do you trust me?"

It was something he asked often but only during closer intimacy, it was weird for him to ask you just out of nowhere. Your heart felt heavy, anticipating something bad.

"Of course, Tom. Always.”

At those words, he got up from behind his desk and took the blade in his hand. The metal made a soft clicking noise against the rings around his long fingers. You had always loved his rings, they were his trademark. He wouldn’t look the same without them. Your eyes followed his actions, not diverting from the blade in his hand.

He pulled your legs so that you got pulled down into a laying position. You gasp softly at the sudden movement. He traced the blade with its blunt side over your legs, passing your knees and slowly reaching your thighs. The cold metal sent shivers down your spine, it was pleasant in a way even though you wouldn't admit it.

He trapped your body, clenching his legs around each side of your body. He looked down at you, seeing your flustered face. It ignited a fire within him and only encouraged him even more to continue. He unbuttoned your shirt slowly, not losing eye contact. He wanted to see your every reaction, the anticipation in your eyes growing.

You didn't say anything, you let him... Surprisingly, you trusted him. You always trusted him. How harsh he could be, he had never hurt you ever. Emotionally maybe but never physically. He’d hurt himself if it meant that you would be untouched by pain.

He pushed the shirt to the side, your chest now exposed to him. You collarbone to his reach, his goal was uncovered. He licked his lips and moved them close to your right collarbone, the one on the side of your heart. He traced them with his lips, soon covering them with his saliva. His tongue left a small wet trail, it glistened in the moonlight coming through the curtains.

He moved his mouth to your neck, up to your jaw until he reached the side of your lips. The teasing made you whimper softly and you put your fingers into his locks. They were soft in between your fingers, a feeling you craved every day.

"You're beautiful." The words hit your lips and you look up into his eyes as he stares back into yours. It's like he's looking into your soul, you feel completely naked in front of him though clothed half.

He dragged the blade across your collarbone, slightly pressing it into your skin to make you get used to the sensation. He looked back at your face to see your reaction. You were calm, and it surprised him. The amount of trust you put into him made his heart skip a beat, it was like falling in love with you all over.

"Can I try something, love?"

Words left your mind and all you could do was nod, You had a feeling about what he was about to do but just waited for him to confirm your thoughts. He traced his thumb across your cheek in the shape of a 'T', the same shape that was now forming right below your collarbone.

It felt cold, it felt warm, you didn't know what it felt like. It almost felt like the same feeling his thumb was making on your cheek like he somehow transferred that soft feeling to your collarbone. It was weird, the pain was almost nonexistent. Little did you know that he put a spell on it, the blade replicating the feeling of his thumb. Like you said, he would never hurt you...

'R'. The next letter now shaped in your skin too, forming his initials in the end. He brushed his fingers over it, immediately closing the wound and causing it to scar. He was making sure it'd stay there forever, like a tattoo.

"T... R..." You looked up at him as he moved his face above yours again.

"That's right, yours. Always and forever yours. Say it.”

“You’re mine and I’m yours, Tom…”

He connected both of your lips as he switched positions into the kiss and put you on top of him now. He pulled away and pulled his shirt over his head, putting the blade in the palm of your hand.

"Your turn now."

Your breath hitched in your throat as he said those words, your turn to do what...?

"Come on, mark me. Own me. Make me yours like you just said" He caressed your cheek and pulled you closer. His eyes were almost demanding, a look you were all too familiar with. He really wanted you to carve your own initials in him too. It was kind of thrilling honestly.

You couldn't deny his wish so you pressed the blade softly against his collarbone with a small sigh. You were focused on the shape, your first letter now leaving a red trace just below his collarbone.

"Good girl..."

Little did you know that this was as close as a blood pact he could get. It'd connect the both of you forever. The letters would turn into a wound again at only the thought of betrayal or disloyalty. You should've known better, for Tom had put another spell on you. Marked by his obsession, marked by his love.

#harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #oneshot #wizarding world #voldermort #toxic love

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kaylopolis · 7 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Two

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power…

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

Chapter Two - Breakfast

Content Warning: None (Let me know if I missed any!)

“Coffee anyone?” You call out to the foyer as your feet hit the carpet.

It was early and you had a lot to do today, but there was always time for coffee. Besides, you spent half the night tossing and turning before finally winding down into a few hours of sleep. You were exhausted - not just from the night’s meeting, but the silence of the Hotel was deafening. You usually slept to music, but the record player in your old room didn’t belong to you and so you couldn’t take it when you left.

Angel sat before the old television, Husk standing at his side, his arms crossed before him. Angel lay sprawling across the sofa, dark circles under his eyes. With the type of jobs these two had, you were surprised to see them up so early.

“… isn’t that right Tom?” You recognized Katie Killjoy’s voice echo from the television.

666 News this early in the morning? You joined the cat and spider in the alcove.

“That’s right Katie! Another pile of ashes was discovered in the alley of the Pride Ring this morning as the Shadow has claimed yet another victim! The remains have been identified as Chazwick Thurman, a known member of the Crimson Mafia...”

“Too bad they weren’t your ashes, aye Tom…”

You drowned out the voices of the broadcasters as images of an alleyway in the Entertainment district flash across the screen. The only thing left behind was a bone-shaped belt buckle and a pile of grey.

“Crimson was invited to comment.”

You stiffen.

The screen cut to a cameraman chasing Crimson into a car. “Get that fucking camera out of my fucking face!” He slams the car door and the screen cuts back to the reporters.

Goddamn that almost gave you a heart attack…

“How do yous think they identify ‘em?” Angel motioned to the screen, now turned back to Chaz’s ash’s blowing away in the breeze. “All I see is a bunch o’ dirt.”

“Something Gluttony whipped up I heard,” Husk grumbles. He looks just as exhausted as Angel.

“What would Beelzebub want to do with a bunch o’ murders?” Angel argued.

“Don’t look at me, those are just the rumors!”

“I heard it was a new Voxtek technology,” you chime in. “They have some sort of electronic scanner that can detect soul signatures.”

You were right, of course, but they didn’t know that.

“But he was a Hellborn Native? Do they even have souls? And what was he doing in the Pride Ring anyway?” Angel argued.

You shrugged, “Like Husk said… Only rumors.”

“Seems a little shady if you ask me.” Husk rubs the scruff forming on his chin. “That’s the first Hell Native to have been slain by the Shadow. So far he’s only gone after Sinners. Why change now?”

You weren’t interested in playing conspiracy theorist today. Too much to do. Instead you decided to shift the conversation, “Coffee?”

Angel and Husk look to you.

“It’s the only reason we got up,” Angel answered. “Heard ya’ had a busy morning and didn’t wanna miss ya’.”

The sentiment made your face turn pink. Day two and already you felt some sort of connection forming with the two of them.

You followed them into the kitchen, but froze on the threshold as the sound of soft jazz hit your ears and a jolt of static ran down your spine. There, standing in a frilly apron tied at the waist, serving spoon in hand, was the red demon Alastor. He didn’t look up as he scooped the remaining eggs into the white dish set on the table.

“Good morning fellow Sinners!” The demon sung. Husk and Angel grumbled in response. Not morning people. So, the maniacal demon has a domestic side? What a weird change of pace after literally beating the shit out of someone yesterday and then turning around and pissing off an Overlord.

“Morning, Mr. Alastor,” you mumbled, trying to match his cheerfulness but frankly, you hadn’t had coffee yet and didn’t enjoy talking to anyone before your first steaming cup.

Finally his eyes landed on you, the soft jazz music coming to a small and almost imperceptible skip you would have missed had you not been listening for it. This man gives away so much in his audio alone.

Half-lidded, his eyes dragged over you, from the Mary Jane heels - short as can be, you couldn’t handle anything over an inch - to the red puffy dress that hugged your sides and expanded into layers of black landing just above your knees. The dress was long sleeved, with black lace running across your back, hiding your tattoo perfectly. It came with a matching metal red clip for your hair.

Normally you hated wearing dresses, hated looking girly, but etiquette called for it this morning. You’d be far more comfortable in a pair of trousers and button up collared shirt.

You waited as the invisible radio clicked through a few stations before returning to a soft jazz. “Well, well, look what the spider and cat dragged in. And where is our fine hotel guest off to today?” He returned the pan to the stove before untying the apron at his waist.

Okay, he was acting cordial. So maybe that meant whatever happened yesterday on the cobblestone streets wasn’t him? Or maybe he hadn’t realized it was you who did it? Either way, there was a question mark next to whatever power slapped the shit out of you yesterday - “proceed with caution,” the sticky note next to it read.

“I have a breakfast date…” You start but Angel’s whistling interrupts you.

“Ow! Oooow!” He called, “And who is the lucky Sinner bestowed with the honor of taking your fine ass out today?”

Your cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “My old land lady?” You curled into yourself, feeling eyes on your skin, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck.

“Oh, you like ‘em mature, don’t ya’?” Angel purred. It made you laugh, breaking some of the tension.

“Now, now Angel Dust, one musn’t speak such profanities to a young lady before she’s had her breakfast.” Alastor settled into his chair. Snapping his fingers for a newspaper, he disappeared behind the black and white text. The air around you grew a little colder with his closeness, like the heat was being absorbed by the red demon himself.

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Angel shrugged, spooning piles of egg onto his plate. “Hair clip knows I’m good for it.”

“Same thing as yesterday, Husk?” You ask sheepishly, making your way to the Breville in the corner. The coldness wrapped around your legs, as if it was following you across the kitchen.

“That would be great, kiddo,” he rubbed his temples, his chin resting on the table top. Hangover?

You felt the bubbles in your chest die down as you got to work, filling the portafilter with beans and finding a white espresso cup in the cupboard.

“Angel?” You called over your shoulder. You feigned a small kick at the air around your ankles, wishing for whatever invisible coldness to leave you alone. It didn’t.

“A vanilla soy latte if ya’ could be so kind, sweet cheeks,” he asked, mouthful of food. You heard the door swing open as Charlie, Vaggie, and Nifty’s voices filled the air.

I thought the tiny maid normally cooked the meals?

Rummaging through the cupboards you couldn’t find any syrups for his request - only a chai tea blend. You apologized but made a mental note to pick up some supplies today.

Passing him his soy latte - complete with a spider on top - you got to work on everyone else’s orders before finally turning to Alastor.

Your palms instantly started to sweat. What was it about this demon that made you so nervous?

“Can I get you anything Mr. Alastor?” Was your voice shaky? Did you seem nervous?

The top part of the newspaper folded down to reveal his face. His smile was strained despite the sweet jazz playing over his radio. His radio? Was that correct?

“Alastor’, darling, and a hot cup of joe would be wonderful,” his eyes lingered on you a little too long before you finally nodded.

Swallowing, you turned back to the Breville and began grinding the beans. You debated making a second cup for yourself, you did still have thirty minutes before you needed to go, but didn’t necessarily wanna smudge your red lipstick before you left. It’ll give you something for your hands to do, to calm the nerves that is, and to warm your bones - the coldness eliciting goosebumps across your legs.

Making two cups of coffee, one in Alastor’s “Oh, Deer!” mug - which made you chuckle - you paused, an idea forming in your mind. You didn’t have many ingredients to work with, but you did have one thing. Opening the chai you took a sniff - fresh. You had a feeling, and it was a risk, but you decided to jump off that cliff anyway. Using a strainer you let a few leaves steep in his cup, before swirling it around and straining it out.

Dropping the mug before him, you finally noticed the extra chair that had been added to the table - right next to him. When did that get there? Nifty sat to your right with Angel right across from you. You tried to catch Angel’s attention, to thank him for adding the extra seat, but he didn’t notice you as he was too busy licking the foam from his lips while sending Husk a sexual retort. Meanwhile, Nifty was stabbing away at her plate, too busy to notice your sudden hesitation.

Was it because of Alastor?

Your mind flits back to the radio broadcast last night and Alastor’s grand display?-battle?-sing a-long?-with the media demon Vox. Seems he had a chance to go big at one point but never really made it. You wondered what happened?

“I don’t bite, darling,” Alastor snapped and his newspaper disappeared. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his knees before taking a sip of his mug. His eyes lit up, his smile curling at the edge. You held your breath as you waited for his reaction.

“Please, take a seat,” the chair before you slid back without a touch, a puddle of shadow beneath it shifting ever so slightly.

He took another sip, his shoulders dropping an inch. You took that as a sign that he enjoyed your coffee concoction and wasn’t going to rip your head off for changing his request.

Rejoining the table, you swore the air around your legs warmed slightly.

“Hey, Hair clip, I gotta know something,” Angel chimed across the table, his belly finally full. “What’s a sweet lil’ thing like you gotta do to get yourself down ‘ere?”

“Angel!” Charlie protested.

“Wha’? Come on we was all thinkin’ it.” He crossed his many arms.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Charlie’s eyes twinkled.

“Uhm, no it’s okay,” your hands clench and unclench around the mug, letting the heat soothe your fingers, resisting the urge to rub your neck. “I had the unfortunate circumstances of finding myself at the center of a web of…” you searched for the right word, “disappearances.” Your lips curled into a smile you couldn’t help but form. You tried to hide it by siping your cup.

Lying was all too easy these days.

“Oh, shit.” Angel jumped in his seat.

“Wait, are you telling us you killed people?” Husk breathes.

“Stab, stab, stab,” Nifty drove her knife into her toast over and over. Vaggie reached over and carefully pulled the needle from her fingers.

How much do you reveal about this backstory now? If you reveal too much it’ll appear as if you have nothing to hide, but chatty Sinners were suspicious Sinners. Give them just a nugget to chew on for now.

“Technically, the cases were never solved. While I was alive anyway…” You mumbled into your cup, conscious of your lipstick on the rim.

Not denial but not confirmation, either.

“So, you didn’t kill people?” Husk clarifies.

“I didn’t say that…” You mumble into the steam.

The beans aren’t bad, but the undercut of chocolate wasn’t your favorite. Add that to the shopping list for today.

So much to do before tomorrow…

“So, then you did?” Angel asks.

You didn’t answer. This conversation was going in circles.

“Might we have heard of you and your endeavors topside, Ms. Thestral?” Alastor’s forearms were suddenly on the table, his presence leaning into you.

You felt something slip past your ankles, like a small breeze. You crossed your legs instinctively.

There’s power in a name down here in Hell. Knowing who people were before gives others leverage, gives them blackmail to use against another. They could threaten your family still alive up top. They could use it to find others who have died but knew you from before for information. The possibilities are endless.

Alastor knows this. It’s an unspoken rule. It’s why Angel goes by Angel or Husk goes by Husk. He knows you’d never give any exact details leading to who you were and what you did, so he’s decided to toy with you. Much like Sir Pentious from yesterday.

Let him eat his own medicine then.

“Might we have heard of you and yours, Mr. Alastor?” You leaned into him, your gaze never wavering from his face. A fleeting flash of amusement so swift had you blinked you would have missed it.

The air was sucked out of the room in one collective gasp as the Hotel Natives waited for his response.

Geez, were they all afraid of this guy or…? You’d hate to see what they’d do in the presence of an Overlord.

He tipped his head back and laughed. “I believe you and I are going to get along quite well, darling.” With a snap of his fingers the newspaper reappears, his face disappearing before you got a chance to study it.

The tension in the room drops as everyone lets out their breath.

You were really going to have to figure out what you were going to do with this Alastor fellow. Perhaps your little outing today would shed light on the subject.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Vaggie is up and out of her seat before you have a chance to register what’s going on. More bangs - coming from the front door. Someone was knocking? Next thing you know, everyone is up and out of their seats and in the foyer - except for Alastor, who decides to take his time.

Throwing open the door, Vaggie comes face to face with Sir Pentious. “Hello, my dear… Ah!”

Vaggie plants a facer right into his nose before pulling her spear from the Void. The snake demon collapses at her feet, begging for mercy.

“Oh, hello again!” Charlie has inserted herself into the situation. This ought to be interesting. You had to admit, you’ve taken some pretty boring jobs before, but the people here were so fun to watch, it made the slow progress worth it.

Sir Pentious mentions something about redemption, which is exactly the thing to say to the Princess Morningstar. The next thing you know she’s practically dragging him inside.

Angel jumps in to point out the obvious but Vaggie eventually crumbles under Charlie’s begging.

The gears in your mind turn as they talk, the Princess showing him the foyer, noting how convenient this turn of events just so happened to be.

Sir Pentious did not just come here on accident - especially after yesterday. Maybe another plan of attack on Alastor? He did catch the red demon off guard, perhaps he was trying again with the same “element of surprise” tactic.

Regardless, Charlie was dotting on the poor demon like he was a small child in need of shepherding. Was she clueless to the situation or just a bleeding heart hopeful?

Either way, the mosquito has returned.

From the corner of your eye, you catch Angel’s mood change. From general intrigue to irritation and… was that guilt you were smelling as Charlie showed the snake about? No - self-loathing. They always smelled so similar, it was easy to get the two confused.

Great now Nifty is fawning over the serpent. The tiny demon is a fucked up enigma that you had no intention of figuring out.

“This is Thestral. Our most recent guest!” Charlie escorts him before you. You shake the snake demon’s hand - gross, he’s slimy.

Static fills your ears, making your hair stand on end as you shake the demon’s hand.

“And over here is… Oh! Uh, Alastor!” Charlie squeaks. “Our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest, Sir Pentious… Hehe…”

You feel Alastor’s eyes on the back of your head before he turns to the snake demon. The serpent cowered before the well-dressed Joe, the room filling with the scent of oranges and mint: fear.

“Ah, yes! You’re the one who ruined my coat!” The demon’s eyes begin to glow, their eerie red light impregnating the room with their aura. “I definitely remember you now.”

Was that irritation you sensed? You watched his shoulders as the snake demon attempted to apologize, noting their stiffness despite his relaxed demeanor in the kitchen.

This guy had a lot of pent up aggression. He carried himself like a clogged overflowing sink someone left the plug in too long. The interaction yesterday with the Vees did nothing to quell his attitude despite the flux he sent the media demon into. The entire grid shut down after you joined Husk at the bar - cellphones, televisions, electricity. It was a blackout for a few hours before his system finally reset. Guess Vox has more of a hold on Pentagram City than you knew.

Sir Pentious hands Alastor the small piece of fabric he ripped from him yesterday.

“Ah-Ho!” The Radio Demon sings. “Not many people have been able to take even this much off me, it must have meant quite a lot to you.”

You snort into your hand, catching a side glance from the Radio Demon.

The fabric spontaneously combusts into green flame.

What!? He has access to Hellfire? You try to not let the shock show on your face but he catches it regardless.

The clock chimes 8 on the wall.

Shit, you were going to be late!

Shoving your hands into the pockets sewn into the dress, you double check that you did indeed grab your wallet before heading for the door. “I’m sorry Charlie, but I have to go now!”

“Oh, yes! Don’t forget, one o’clock!” She waves after you.

The cold sensation slips from your ankles, making you shutter as you head for the front, but before you have a chance to pull the door open, Husk steps into your path. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, looking over your shoulder at something. “Stop by the bar later, wouldya?”

His tone was far more serious than one would expect for a casual hangout invitation.

“Sure, Husk,” you nod, worried that something was wrong.

“Stay safe out there,” he pats your shoulder before heading back to the bar, his eyes downcast as he passes the red demon and Princess now entranced in their own conversation.

You swear you see Alastor’s shadow move, like it was waving goodbye…

Anyway… That was… weird, but good! Making progress with Husk and an opportunity to hear some gossip from the grumpy bartender.

You headed out into the cobblestone streets with a new pep in your step and a smile on your face.

____________________________________

“Thanks, Susan,” you smiled at the potted daisy in your hand. It was half dead but so was she.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she pinched your cheeks as she screamed. She was deaf, everything she said was in a scream.

“I’ll see you next week!” You smiled, slowly inching away. “With the lemon finger sandwiches this time!”

She laughs as you parted ways, flipping her boa over her shoulder as she shuffled.

You loved the lady, she gave you a room when you had nowhere else to go. After you moved out you thought it would be the end of breakfasts with the old crazy lady, but she begged for tea and snacks once a week in the park. She was lonely - even though she was to blame for her loneliness. She did eat her third husband and all… So, you bought her breakfast and tea once a week. It was the least you could do after everything she has done for you.

You rounded the Plaza and headed for the doors of Rosie’s Emporium but your stride came to a crashing halt as static filled your ears.

“Don’t be a stranger, Alastor!” Rosie’s voice carried to the front of the store.

Fuck!

Flattening against the other half of the double doors, and hiding your face against the wall, you prayed he would walk right past you and not notice your anxiety-riddled form in the doorway. But, alas, you were never that lucky.

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Oh!” The Radio Demon stopped half stride out the door, his eyes immediately finding yours. The edges of his lips curled far past what you thought possible for his face. His radio faltered just a moment before he addressed you. “Why, hello there.”

Red bloomed across your cheeks as you came face to face with him. He tipped an eyebrow up, unleashing a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

You searched for something to say but words seemed just out of reach.

What was wrong with you! Why did this demon have so much sway over your emotions! Get yourself together. Why…

Rosie cleared her throat, causing you to jump. She was quiet when she was being sneaky. “And what do we have here?” Her charming New York accent was doing nothing to qualm the nerves in your belly.

“Thestral, this is Rosie. The most darling, delightful, and dangerous Overlord this side of the Pentagram!” Trumpets echoed through his radio.

You tried hard not to roll your eyes.

“Oh! Always a charmer,” Rosie smiled wide, her razor sharp teeth on display.

“And Rosie,” his arm wraps around your lower back, pushing you closer to the man-eating Overlord. That cold sensation wraps around your legs again, making you shiver. “It’s my pleasure to introduce you to…”

“Actually,” you interrupt, trying to keep the bite from your voice. Stepping out of Alastor’s grip, the cold follows you. What made him think he could just touch you like that!? “We’ve met.”

A flash of irritation crosses Alastor’s eyes before being replaced with his mask.

“Oh! What a regal surprise!” Rosie drags you inside, taking the dead potted plant from you. “You’re early!” She goes for a tray of fingers. “Can I offer you something to eat?”

“I just ate actually,” an uncomfortable laugh escapes your lips.

You didn’t detest cannibalism - I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good shoulder steak? - it was the way Alastor was looking at you that was setting those butterflies in a flurry. It was a look of… suspicion? You sniffed, but smelled nothing. Hmm, interesting.

“You two know each other?” Alastor twirled his cane, clutching it behind his back. His smile was strained.

Shit.

“Oh, Thestral and I go way back!” She spun, placing the finger food aside before clamping both her hands atop your shoulders. You were trapped. “Practically fell on top of me when she died!”

Alastor’s eyes light up with the addition of the new information. “Did she now?”

You stop him from asking anymore questions with an awkward laugh. “Rosie, don’t you have to take my measurements?”

“Oh, my stars! You’re here for a dress!” Her eyes sparkle. Cupping your cheeks, she pulls your face to hers. “Finally! This one was getting a little old,” she thumbs a hole in your sleeve you were desperately trying to hide. You frown.

You didn’t have money to burn often, but when you did you let Rosie dress you up as she pleased. She never wanted money from you, in fact she hated that you offered, but it didn’t feel right to just take her creations without giving her something in return.

“Oh, don’t fret, doll! You’re still a tomato! Don’t you think so, Alastor?” She pinched your cheeks, turning your face to the red demon in his newly fashioned pin-striped suit.

You met his eyes, he was clearly loving the embarrassment Rosie was showering you with.

“As cute as a bug’s ear,” he smiled, his eyebrows relaxing in amusement.

God, did this man do anything other than fucking smile?

Your face reddened under his direct gaze, its burn bleeding into the cold of Rosie’s fingers. You didn’t like being dotted on and you sure as Hell didn’t like being showed off like this.

Wait… what did he say? Did he call you cute? The Radio Demon called you cute.

“Oh!” Rosie finally releases you. You rub your cheeks to lessen the sting from her pinches. “Ya-know, Alastor. I got a premo-connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickin’s for a deal to be made, my friend!”

A deal? Rosie didn’t just throw people a bone out of pity. She didn’t freely offer up anything to anyone unless she respected them. Rosie - the Rosie - respected… him? The Radio Demon was turning out to be a bigger fish than expected. Still, he remained a mystery. God it was irritating.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must be off. So much to do at the Hotel!” He sung, his radio clicking on a smooth jazz. He picked at invisible lint on his shoulder before his half-lidded eyes met yours. “I‘ll see you this afternoon, darling.” His voice purred, sending butterflies in a flurry within you. With a small bow he slipped out the front door and into Cannibal Plaza taking your breath with him.

You spun as the door shut, swearing you saw a… shadow follow him?

Fuck, you needed to figure this guy out fast, but that was why you were here wasn’t it? Rosie knew all the best gossip in Pentagram City, she was the ideal source to go to for information on Alastor without raising suspicion at the Hotel. Couldn’t let any of the Natives think you too interested in the Radio Demon.

“You’re late.”

You spun to face Rosie, a hand on her hip, one eyebrow sky high in suspicion.

Shaking off the conflicting emotions stirring within you, you met her energy, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “It appears you were entertained in my absence.”

“Don’t start with the attitude, young lady.” She waved a finger at you as she led you into the parlor.

A set of tea was waiting, half drunk and already cold - tea which was supposed to be for you had you been on time.

“Susan was extra talkative this morning,” you huffed, taking the chair across from her usual spot. “Seems she missed me.”

The Overlord began tidying up the tray, but as you watched her collect the cups, you couldn’t help but wonder something. “Was that planned?” You huffed.

She gave you a look as if you had asked a stupid question.

“Why?” You grommeled, shrinking into the chair.

“Posture!” She waved her finger at you. You rolled your eyes but obeyed. “It appears Alastor is back from his sabbatical - which I was only made aware of yesterday when he came in here with a torn suit. I asked you here to create a pho-run-in with the Overlord so that you might be aware of his presence, considering the events of tomorrow.” She placed the tray on the side counter.

“Wait…” Your ears perked up. Did you hear her correctly? You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t get a chance to learn of his endeavors with the Hotel until this morning. He made quite a stir yesterday, and when Alastor is in a bad mood you tend to keep conversation short.” She snapped her fingers and a new tray appeared - tea steaming and ready to be served.

Every nerve in your body was screaming at you. “Rosie, did you…”

“Now, come to find my surprise when I learned that he had not just already met you, but already had suspicions of your power. He asked questions, Thestral, questions about you, and I…”

“Oh my God, Rosie!” You jumped to your feet, arms clenched at your sides.

“What has gotten into you?” She stopped mid pour, a hand feigning surprise on her chest.

“Did you just say that Alastor is an Overlord?” Your heart was beating at a million miles an hour now.

Taking a breath, the woman who had become like a mother to you finished pouring your cup before she set the tea kettle back onto the tray. She took her cup and plate in hand before finally answering your question. “Yes.”

You stopped breathing completely. “Fuck,” you mumbled before slowly melting back into the chair.

Oh my God, how could you be so stupid! Of course the Radio Demon was more powerful than you could ever have imagined. Of course the Radio Demon was an Overlord. Of course an OVERLORD had to be the Hotel manager. Of course an OVERLORD had to sleep across the hall from you! All the planning you put together, all the research, all the preparation and now you had to deal with this!

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Rosie sipped her tea - jasmine, your favorite.

Alastor had beef with the Vees. He pissed off Vox to the point that it overloaded his circuits and shut the entire grid down. No wonder you didn’t see him in the commercial. What Overlord would want one of his biggest enemies being able to capture him using his greatest asset of surveillance - a camera.

Sir Pentious came to challenge Alastor your very first day at the Hotel because he had heard that Alastor was back! Which meant the Hotel was now a target! Which made you a target! Alastor’s mere presence was attracting attention - attention you didn’t want and would inevitably get in the way of your plans!

You had always been a behind the scenes type of person. Operating behind a mask was your specialty. Merely shedding the cloak was filling you to the brim with anxiety and now you had to deal with this!

No! No! No! No!

“Thestral you’re burning my couch,” Rosie scolded.

Looking down, blue flames licked the seat’s plush arm rest. Silently cursing, you pulled the power back in and suffocated it, leaving behind a bit of blackened fabric.

“This is going to be a problem,” you spat through gritted teeth.

Now you knew why everyone was so afraid of him.

“Why are you so surprised? I thought you knew by the way you were acting when you ran into him in my parlour. Actually, now that I think about it, you looked more smitten than… Huh!” Rosie gasped, her teeth growing into a smile. “Are you sweet on him?”

Your jaw dropped. “What? No!”

That was completely illogical! You, sweet on an Overlord!? Preposterous!

“My dear, you’re blushing!” She practically sang.

Your hands flew to your cheeks so fast you almost slapped yourself. “Just… What… I… Are you going to take my measurements or not?”

Rosie laughed before pulling out a measuring tape. “Oh, I am going to dress you to the nines, tomato!” She gave you a knowing smile as she shepherded you to the block before a set of mirrors.

“Rosie, I do not like the Radio Demon. If anything he poses a problem. A really big problem.” You stepped onto the block as she circled you like a vulture.

“I am pulling out all the stops for you! Two new dresses, maybe a couple pair of those trousers you adore so much, and definitely a few ideas for a night out on the town. Just in case.” She winks at you in the mirror. “And new shoes too! Those little heels are done for.”

“Rosie… Just..” You sank your face in your hands.

She stopped immediately. “What’s wrong, darling? Talk to Auntie Rosie.”

Running your hands through your hair, you took a deep breath, releasing as much anxiety as you could with it.

Things were a lot easier when you operated in the shadows.

You faked a small smile before pulling the money clip from your pocket, trying to turn the conversation to something you could handle. “At least let me pay you this time.”

Rosie’s face turned into one of determination and pride. “You got it back from Crim, didn’t ya’?”

You pulled your other hand from your pocket to reveal the black calling card. “Indeed I did.”

_______________________________________

You took your time heading to the Entertainment District, letting Rosie’s words simmer within your brain.

The Radio Demon was an Overlord and a mysterious one at that. He disappeared seven years ago, only to magically reappear recently under the guise of Charlie’s Hotel Manager.

Funny how Lilith also disappeared seven years ago. Funny how this Extermination just so happens to be a special one.

But before Alastor took his paid time off, it seems he was quite the shit around here. That at least explains the radio broadcasts: the incessant screaming of souls Alastor plays at whim. You had to admire that part. The man had class, he had art, he had theatrics. You just killed and walked away, not wanting the media spotlight, but Alastor? He thrived off of it. He was a walking entertainment broadcast dependent upon the attention of others.

God, and his ego? You didn’t even want to start down that road. No wonder he got so pissy when you didn’t cower before him like thousands of others do. Fuck, the only one not afraid of him is Princess Morningstar - not because she considers herself more powerful than him but because she is naive. Alastor would kill her in a heartbeat if it meant accomplishing his goals.

Speaking of, what were his goals? Surely he didn’t wish to climb the ladder of hotel management. Alastor wasn’t an assistant type of guy. He had to be the boss. So whatever plan he has, playing make believe with the Princess has put him in a superior position despite what it appears.

Was that it then? Was taking down Charlie his endgame? But why? Charlie doesn’t rule, she doesn’t utilize her power, she doesn’t do anything. She just kind of hangs out with Vaggie and cleans up chemical spills and hugs trees and shit. She wasn’t someone all powerful to target and take down - not like Lilith.

Wait. Fuck. Lilith.

That’s what this is about. He disappeared seven years ago with Lilith and he’s back now because of Lilith.

So get to Charlie to get to Lilith, but what does Alastor want with Lilith?

So entranced in thought you finally realized you were heading in the complete wrong direction and had stumbled into a part of town you had never been.

A window of television screens suddenly shifts to a bright yellow light. “Voxtech Angelic Security coming soon!” The ad chimes along with the new Voxtech logo sprouting a pair of wings.

That was going to prove a problem for your late night activities. Not that anyone has ever really been able to capture you on camera before. You're a mass of black smoke when you fly and a dark hooded figure with glowing yellow eyes when you weren’t. Hell, the entirety of Pentagram City thought you were a dude. A little sexist but whatever…

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath before turning down an alley you were hoping was a short cut.

“That fucking, fuck!” Vox comes flying out of a side door, trying desperately to tie his bow tie which has now become a knot around his neck.

You would have hid, you would have turned around and ran the moment you saw him, had he not run right into you.

Vox’s back slams into your shoulder, knocking you to the ground. The media demon turns on you, his one eye glowing red, a look of pure wrath flashing across his screen.

“Watch it!” He bites.

You give him an exasperated look before climbing to your feet. Great, now this dress is truly ruined! Your right hip is covered in black dirt, and there’s a tear along the hem. Rosie is going to kill you.

“You ran into me,” you brush your skirt. You didn’t snap at him, you simply stated the truth.

The demon is taken aback. How dare you speak to him like that! Did you not know who he is?

“You want to repeat that again you, little…” He stops mid sentence, his attention drawn to the hand you were extending him. “What are you doing?”

You gesture to the bow tie, nonchalantly, “I had a lot of brothers growing up. I got good at tying ties and bow ties and you look like you could use some help.” You nod to his left thumb, thoroughly stuck in the knot.

He raises an eyebrow in confusion, staring at you as if you had just sprouted a second head. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes and begin unraveling the silk around his neck. The demon stiffens beneath your touch, freezing in place. You could feel his eyes boring into the top of your head as you worked.

It was a simple red bow tie, the slipperiness of the fabric made it difficult to get the ends even, but a few twists and you had it back to normal. You even closed the distance, folding the band around his neck beneath the collar of his shirt.

He doesn’t have that aura of static like Alastor does nor that sense of coldness which hangs about his shadow. Really you expected more similarities between the two, given that they were practically each other’s counterparts. But here, now, you didn’t get the same feelings being around Vox like you did the Radio Demon. Actually it was lack thereof.

It was probably just Vox’s lack of power. Really and truthfully you meant it when you said Vox is only ⅓ of an Overlord. Without the other Vees, he isn’t a threat. Alastor? That man was full power in only one suit.

Wait… why were you so focused on comparing him to Alastor right now?

“There,” you slapped your hands against your thighs. “Ta-da!” You gave him a show of jazz hands before continuing down the alleyway. A shiver runs down your spine as you could feel his gaze still on your form. God, he’s such a creep.

“Hey! Wait!” The media demon calls after you.

You roll your eyes before spinning, cursing under your breath.

The look on Vox’s face made you pause. Was that…? You sniffed. Curiosity? No, that wasn’t quite right. You sniffed again, not able to place the emotion. You’ve never really smelled anything like it before.

The demon clears his throat, suddenly self conscious. “Can I at least offer you a ride to wherever you’re going… as a thank you?” He crosses his arms in front of him, taking a few slow steps in your direction.

Fuck that. The last thing you wanted was Vox to know anything about you. Anything at all.

“No, thanks,” you spin again and…

“Can I at least know your name?” He tries again.

Ugh!

“Why?” You bite, your hands finding your hips.

The demon looks confused before his screen flashes back to a neutral face. He smiles and it’s far softer than you expected, “I just want to know the name of my savior.” He chuckles. “I got a little mixed up back there and am grateful for your services in fixing the situation.”

Okay… You’ve never actually seen Vox be nice before. This was weird.

Your eyes trail his form from his shoes to the broken antenna atop his head. You’ve never actually seen the media demon in person, but he cleans up well. The suit was nice but the hat was a little corny. No one wears top hats anymore. Also, his head is a flat television screen, how does that thing even stay up there?

“Uh, no.”

He blinks. “No?”

“Yeah, no.” You repeat. Was he dumb?

He scoffs, “do you know who I am?”

You spin, not daring to stop this time, “yup!” You waved to him over your shoulder, not looking back. “Bye!”

______________________________________

Vox sprints through the door, the wood vibrating off its hinges.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Velvette snaps from her place on the couch.

“I don’t know…” The media demon slams his hands against his desk, a look of madness on his face as his one eye blinks red. “I didn’t get her name…” He whispers to himself.

“Who?” Velvette smacks her lips against a lollipop, a loud ‘pop!’ with each suck.

“The most beautiful creature in Hell…”

Link to Chapter Three!

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

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