#they just take it and snatch the rug right out from under him

[kunasthiast]

sunshine

“you ever think about how lucky you are to have me?”

you didn’t even look up from your phone as you continued scrolling, sprawled out like a lazy cat on the living room rug (it’s comfy, okay?), half under a throw blanket.

“literally never,” you replied.

“liar,” your husband sukuna said from the couch, not missing a beat. “you’re lying and the universe knows it.”

he was half-focused on some work file on his tablet. he had his reading glasses low on his nose (which should��ve been illegal) and was wearing one of those loose black tees that hung just right on his arms. it’s like his arms were sculpted for violence and thirst traps. it was offensive, really. all of it.

a few minute passed by and you were still just scrolling on your phone. 

“you been quiet for a whole five minutes, brat. you dying or scheming?” he asked, not even glancing up.

“maybe both,” you said lazily.

that got his attention. he finally glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, flashing that signature i-know-you-want-me smirk. “if you die, i’ll sue god.”

you snorted. “you think god wants beef with you?”

“babe,” he leaned back, stretching — showing just enough abs to ruin your life, “god’s scared of me.”

a beat passed.

then you peeked over the your phone and said casually with a grin, “baby, serious question.”

“oh boy,” he muttered, lowering the tablet a little. “let’s hear it.”

you sat up cross-legged on the rug, head tilted. “every time you look at me, do you think i’m the sun or the moon?”

sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “sun.”

“oh?” you squinted at him. “so you’re saying i’m blinding and too hot to handle?”

“that,” he drawled, “and you’re dramatic, impossible to ignore, and have a dangerous habit of setting shit on fire.”

you laughed, grabbing a throw pillow and tossing it at him. he caught it without looking. “so i’m the sun, huh?”

“absolutely. you wake up and immediately decide to shine in my face whether i’m ready or not.”

“rude,” you huffed. “the correct answer was the world.”

he raised a brow. “mm. nah.”

“excuse me?!”

“you’re not the world,” he said, standing up and walking over to you — towering like the menace he is. “you’re the universe.”

you blinked. “…seriously?”

he crouched in front of you, grin widening. “yup. everything in me, around me, orbits you. even when you’re pissing me off, i still revolve around you, baby.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but your brain short-circuited halfway through. “...that’s so full of yourself.”

“no, you’re full of me,” he shot back instantly, smug and unbothered, and grinning with way too much teeth.

you groaned, shoving him away as he laughed. “you ruin everything, oh my god.”

“you asked,” sukuna laughed, snatching the pillow and smacking you gently with it. “don’t start shit you can’t emotionally recover from.”

“i hate you,” you muttered and flopped back dramatically.

“nah,” he said smugly, grabbing his tablet again. “you love me. you’re the universe, remember?”

a few minutes passed with only the soft clicks of sukuna’s tablet and your scrolling. but of course, peace in this house lasted as long as a soap bubble.

“babe,” sukuna called, not even looking up.

“hmm?”

“you know how planets revolve around stars, right?”

you groaned, already sensing the bullshit brewing. “don’t say it –”

“just saying,” he continued, smug, “i must’ve had some gravity to pull the universe.”

you stared at him. “you’re so full of shit, babe”

he finally looked up, smirking in that god-awful way that made your heart skip and your eyes roll at the same time. “and yet you married me. whose fault is that, brat?”

“definitely mine. i take full accountability for this karmic lesson,” you muttered, hiding your grin behind the throw pillow.

sukuna stood up, stretching his arms — muscles flexing in that unfair, jaw-dropping way — and walked over to you with the audacity of a man who knew he was too hot for his own good. 

“nah, you knew what you were getting into.”

he leaned down and kissed your forehead, then right under your eye, before pulling back just enough to grin at your expression. 

“but since you’re the universe,” he said, “guess that makes me your favorite star.”

“you’re a black hole,” you said flatly.

“damn right,” he said with a wink. “sucks you in and leaves you breathless.”

you choked on a laugh, smacked him with the pillow, and swore to the heavens that this man was a menace wrapped in abs.

“try harder, baby,” sukuna teased. “that weak-ass swing won’t even knock a planet off orbit. and this is planetary alignment,” he winked. again.

“god, i hate you.”

“nah,” he leaned down again, cocky as hell, “you love me. more than the sun. more than the moon.”

he paused, lips twitching. “more than sanity.”

“i’m divorcing you.”

“can’t,” he said, grabbing your hand to try and pull you up from the floor, “you’re obsessed with me.”

you just sighed, making yourself heavier, the ultimate act of petty defiance—still holding his hand.

“that’s what i thought,” he said triumphantly, letting go of your hand. “now get off the floor, we’re ordering takeout and you’re not choosing — i still have PTSD from that vegan sushi you made me try.”

“it was fusion!”

“it was trauma.”

“you are so dramatic—”

“and you,” he cut you off, pointing, “are still the universe. but don’t push it.”

you huffed, dragging yourself up. “you better be getting dessert.”

“only if you promise to orbit back to me tonight.”

“you’re disgusting.”

“you’re obsessed.”

you didn’t deny it.

[yasministration]

mind blowing kisser - platonic!marauders

summary: your friend group finds out something shocking about you, Hogwarts's biggest heartthrob. wc: 1.5k cw: undertones of remus x reader, talks of sex, suggestive(?)

A charming smile that swept boys and girls alike off their feet. Confidence that had teachers and students agreeing with any word that came tumbling out of your mouth. Luring eyes attracting prey after prey into your arms, whether it be at a party or from across the library. A roster of people lining up in front of you that had Sirius Black intimidated. Everyone wanted you, and not a single person could deny that.

Some people were genuinely intimidated to approach your friend group, and you weren't surprised. Why wouldn't they when you had the two heart throbs, the scariest student at Hogwarts, both Head Students, and a raging lesbian? That’s why everyone left your favourite spot in the common room empty, whether you were there or not. And it was always available for after parties like this one. You slumped down on the couch next to Remus, snatching his bottle of beer and taking a sip before pulling a face. Sometimes you were intoxicated enough to forget you hated beer — this was not one of those times.

“He a good kisser?” Asked Marlene from the armchair she was vacating, watching as you waved goodbye to the Hufflepuff you'd been making out with. You shrugged, letting the smile drop from your face when you turned back around. “Just enough.” “Not enough for you to take to bed?” Questioned Sirius, hiding his smirk from behind his own beer bottle. “You say that as though I sleep around.” You didn’t mean to get the entire group laughing, but you couldn’t help the smile on your face at their cluelessness. “Right, because how many people have you slept with? One? Three hundred?” You threw your head back with a laugh at Lily’s comment, eyes attracted to where she and James held hands tightly.

“Why, how many have you slept with Sirius?” You asked, suddenly curious. He winced, lips moving silently as he counted the numbers in his head. “Like twelve?” You hummed apprehensively. “Thought it would be more.” “More? Lady, you’re really scaring me here.” He shot back, eyes wide in shot. “Genuinely sweetheart, how many is it?” Pushed Marlene.

You turned to Remus, now holding you snug against him by the arm around your shoulders. The boy smiled at you, noticing the mischievous glint in your eyes. “They’re not going to believe me when I tell them.” Remus chuckled at your loud whisper, watching as you started giggling to yourself. “Oh I can’t wait to see your faces when I tell you.” You announced, feeling your cheeks heat up as you continued laughing. Remus swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the number. Lily, sat directly facing you on the warm rug with her boyfriend, looked terribly concerned for your wellbeing.

“Okay, ready?” You asked, scanning the group one last time. “Wait!” Yelled Sirius, “Let’s place bets!” You nodded, seeing Remus roll his eyes from your peripheral vision. “Is that appropriate?” He rubbed your arm softly, and you turned to him again, telling him “Let them.” He was confused for a moment. Were you under the impression he knew how many people you slept with?

“Okay,” Marlene announced, “I want twelve, I’m matching Sirius’s count. Lily says seventeen, James says seven, okay odd man out. Sirius?” “Twenty three.” You gasped loudly, putting your hand out towards Sirius in a theatrical gesture. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Mr. Black.”

“Oh just spill, will you?” He countered. “Okay, here we go.” You took a deep breath, taking one last look at each of your friends’ faces before finally saying. “I’m a virgin.”

Marlene screamed, standing up and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You’re a fucking liar is what you are.” Said Sirius with an unimpressed look on his face. “Zero?” You heard Remus mumble. He just wished you didn't sense the relief in his voice. “And I wasn’t hiding it either. If you’d asked, I’d have told you.” Marlene shook her head.

“Lies, because when I asked last week how it was with Rosier, you said-”

“Good. I said it was good.”

“And then I asked if it was mind blowing and you said-”

“Not really… Because what’s so mind blowing about a good make out sess?”

Lily suddenly gasped. “You sneaky little- so just because we’ve never said the word sex in the questions, you didn’t - oh my godric.” You shrugged, a smile on your face. “Wait so how has the entire castle been fooled?” Asked James, looking at you with genuine interest. “I mean boys in the Quidditch locker rooms talk about you all the time.”

“People exaggerate things. I’ll give a hand job here and there, and when they can’t get it up again I’ll just say it was shame and they’ll leave. I guess they’re just too embarrassed to reveal those details. And you’d be surprised by the amount of guys who cum in their trousers from a little kissing and grinding.” You heard Remus’s breath hitch in his throat. “You’re joking, right?” Clarified Sirius. You shook your head. “I’ve never tried hiding the fact that I’m a virgin. Thought you’d know.” You turned your head towards Remus, finally looking at him in the eyes.

“When I asked if you slept with Malfoy, you said no. Said you didn’t sleep around. I thought you meant you didn’t sleep around much. When you came back from Davies’s dorm, I asked you about it and you said ‘these boys are disappointing. A little kissing and they’re done for.’ I thought you meant kissing while fucking. Jesus, it’s been right in front of our faces.” Remus ranted breathily, looking at you with a confused expression.

“So Hogwarts’s number one heartthrob is a virgin?” Gasped Sirius. “Kissing enough guys made people think you’re sleeping with them all?”

“I’m good at what I do, Sirius, there’s no denying that.” His face flushed red, and from across the couch, you saw his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Mind blowing kisser, in fact." “You see - that!” Marlene cried, sitting back down. “You’re so confident, and you could have anyone. So - so why haven’t you?”

You leaned your back against the couch, stealing Remus’s beer from him again and taking a long sip. “I just - I enjoy kissing people, you know? And I don’t want to have sex with any of these guys who are only interested in that. Like they all hope they’ll sleep with me and then steal my heart so they can be the ones to break it. I want-” You huffed, downing the rest of Remus’s beer. The boy huffed, pushing you to the side in mock annoyance. You laughed lightly. “I want someone I have a genuine connection with. An emotional commitment before a physical one.”

Your eyes followed Remus as he got up to fetch another beer, and you saw him grab a pre-mixed cocktail. He opened both bottles, handing you the watermelon flavoured drink, and you smiled at him softly. A long silence fell on the group, watching as you thanked him with a loving look in your eyes.

“Godric,” started Sirius, breaking the comfortable silence, “You must masturbate like-” “Never.” You cut in. It was his turn to scream now, and even James and Lily’s jaws dropped. You started laughing again as you took another sip of your drink. “Not my thing.” “But you have, right?” Asked Marlene, a desperate look in her eyes. You shook your head.

“So the biggest heartthrob at Hogwarts isn’t only a virgin, but has never had an orgasm.” You nodded at Lily’s shocked words. She was discovering a whole new side of her best friend. “Hogwarts’s biggest heartthrob is actually Hogwarts’s biggest prude.” You grinned, almost proudly, at Sirius’s words.

You stood suddenly, putting your drink down on the table and stretching your back in an exaggerated manner. “Well, I’m going to go have another peaceful, virgin night’s sleep.” Marlene cackled at your comment, and you squeezed Remus’s outstretched hand as you passed by. It was easy to notice how relieved he was to know that you didn't sleep around. That maybe, his amateur skills in bed could impress you.

“Hey y/n?” You spun around, hand still holding Remus’s. You hummed at Sirius’s call, tossing your hair out of your face. “I’m not drunk enough now, but next time, I’m finding out just how good of a kisser you are.” You winked at your friend, missing the glare Remus sent his way. You bent down, pressing a kiss on Remus’s forehead. The unsuspecting boy jumped at the feelings of your soft lips on his forehead, and he turned to wave bye at you, but you had already turned your back to him and were halfway up the stairs.

Once you were out of earshot, Sirius laughed loudly, clutching his sides. “Oh, should’ve seen his fucking face! Chill out, Remus, I am not stealing your girl.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-017

[nayaesworld]

Rugged Whiskey

Warnings: Alcohol use, Smut, Toxic behavior and situations

—

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

A/N: Chile Terry is on thee worst demon time in here…

__

Friday couldn’t come fast enough for Terry. The work week was hard and he was at his wits end with an attitude to show for it. His dark brows scrunched in annoyance and a slight mug on his face as he raced home to wash away the impurities of his workplace. What he needed was a release, and a happy welcome into the weekend. He had settled on checking out a new bar about 15 minutes from his apartment, the reviews were great and the food and drinks looked yummy. Why not check it out?

Fresh out of the shower with a large towel wrapped around his waist he applied a light leave in cream to his short waves and brushed it throughout his head. Outfit laid out like his first day of school uniform, he began getting dressed. A silver wristwatch accentuating his bulky arm, he misted himself down with his Jo Malone cologne,snatched up his truck keys, and headed down to his truck.

He ate the 15 minute drive up��mostly because he drove awfully fast most days, and he spent another few minutes finding a decent parking spot. The bar was jumping and he watched as hotties of all shades of brown sashayed into Sapphire, some accompanied by a man. He read from the digital sign on the front doors that tonight was R&B night and hurriedly paid his fee at the door thanking god he had arrived on time and didn’t have to stand in line.

Terry liked the atmosphere so far. The loud music thumped through the walls and bodies gyrated to the beat of the good music. The music was good and all, but Terry needed hot liquor running through his veins. He found the bar quickly and that’s when he laid eyes on an angel. Had the heavens opened up above and dropped one…just for him?

Low rise jeans with a tight black baby tee with the establishment name on the front and low rise jeans that showed off the arch in her back right above that fat ass. As he got closer to the elegant looking bar with plentiful seating her deep mahogany skin glowed under the warm lighting and her perfect plump lips were lined a dark brown and covered in a shimmery clear gloss.

He subconsciously checked his fit and ran a hand over his smooth waves before walking up yet he was smacked in the face by her beauty and a cute little country accent. He was never prepared for her to fuck his head up like she would.

“Hi, welcome to Sapphire. I’m Khia and I’ll be your bartender. What can I getcha’ to sip on tonight?” With a warm smile and high cheekbones she welcomed him to the bar and Terry’s skin felt feverish when she laid eyes on him.

“Hello pretty… I’ll take any of your top shelf whiskey on the rocks…I’m not picky.” Except Terry was picky, yet he was gobsmacked and grinning like the Cheshire Cat in front of this brown beauty.

He watched her Eeny Meeny, Miny Moe his whiskey before grabbing him a glass to fill with ice and her whiskey of choosing. She topped it with a small black straw and placed a napkin underneath before gracefully strutting back and placing it in front of him.

Terry thanked her and complimented the gold crescent moon necklace that hung from her neck, and next he was complimenting her short square French tip nails and watched as she cracked a cute smile at him. The two fell into a comfortable conversation about a basketball game that played on one of the large TVs and Terry sucked down his whiskey becoming more entranced by little miss Khia.

__

The layered jet black buss down framed the angel's face, seemingly flowing as they conversed.Her upbeat and cheerful attitude had earned her a five star rating and review on the small tablet in front of him as well as a $80 tip. He didn’t care if she was like this with all her customers and just played her part for a tip. Terry wasn’t opposed to spending money on women, and he didn’t care if the tip was more than gratuity, because he’d already planned on tipping her yet again in cash before the night ended.

She was a sight for sore eyes, her slanted eyes the color of the top shelf whiskey he’d just ordered with a view of top shelf ass to go right along with it. His eyes never left her, and when the bar got busy he moved away to let her do her job.

Women eyed him on the dance floor like hawks. Watching and waiting to snatch him up before the next one did. But Terry knew better, and he was laser focused on the bartender across the room from him. He watched her dismiss the drunk men at the bar with the blow of a kiss, a wave of her hand, and a smirk on her face,simultaneously cutting off their liquor when they got a little too rowdy with her. Flirty and mouthy with cocoa skin, just how he liked em’.

He was on his second glass of whiskey and wasn’t done with the amber colored alcohol. Terry was a dog off that whiskey; it went down hot and rugged and coaxed forward his nastiest thoughts yet it was his favorite drink to consume.

And Khia was a bad bitch, what he wouldn’t give to see her oiled up in his bedroom pop-Terry hurried to turn his head with his glass to his lips when she’d caught him staring again from across the dance floor. He acted busy and stared at the time on his phone screen…12:30 am. Not noticing the bartender baddie sliding from around the bartop to head his way.

A small warm hand pressed onto his lower arm causing him to whip around quickly. “Oh..I’m sorry for scaring you. Do you mind if I join you.. I’m off the clock?” She giggled softly at his startled expression.

“Nah sweetheart not at all…I was actually gonna ask you eventually but you had your hands full back there.” His thumb pointed back at the bar and he led her to a corner table secluded from all the nosey eyes. Up close she smelled of warm peaches and vanilla, a mouth watering sweet scent that filled his nostrils.

She had walked over with her own drink in hand; a lemon drop. When they had talked earlier she’d told him they were her favorite, sweet and easy to make but packed a punch. The two sat at the table rather close to each other and conversation flowed.

“So you don’t like large groups of people or clubs for that matter, yet you work in one?” Terrys raised glass to his lips as he chuckled at her.

“Heyy it pays the bills…and it’s really good money if you know what you’re doing and how to act with different people and personalities.”

“Hmm I hear you…so what kind of personality am I?” Curious and tipsy Terry rubbed and pulled at his goatee, he was eager to hear what she thought.

He watched her ponder over her words for a bit, her pretty face all scrunched up in thought. “Well at first you looked out of place and you kinda had this brooding expression, but then when you spoke it was different. You’re very nice and handsome and you hold a conversation very well…the last two hours of my shift literally flew by.”

“You think I'm handsome?….well I think you sexy asf. Best looking woman in this whole state if you ask me…. pretty girl.” He turned his head toward her, eating up the blush that flashed against her skin.

She nibbled on her plump lined lips and for a few seconds they locked eyes with each other before she scooted closer in her chair. “Are you flirting with me Mr.Terry?…because I assure you I’ll knock your socks off first.”

“And fuck handsome I think you’re fine asf.” She continued. “One of the finest I’ve seen in here.”

Terrys lower lip was tickled by his tongue. It lapped at the whiskey around his mouth and slithered back into his mouth; though he’d rather it be exploring Khia’s body and willing mouth.

“Mmm is that right Miss Khia…you got something you wanna do about that though?” He leaned back into his chair and let his long legs spread open, if it was something she wanted from him he was gonna make her come out and say it and stand on it.

She stood from her seat and offered her hand to him. “Dance with me….this is one of my faves.” Grabbing her hand he let her pull him to the dance floor and he heard the intro to Drunk In Love pour into his ears from the loud speakers.

I’ve been drinkin’, I’ve been drinkin’…I get filthy when that liquor get into me…

She turned to him and sang word for word, because in this moment the lyrics were reality for both of them, tipsy and filled to the brim with attraction and need for each. She turned her back to him and whined her waist against him, tossing her sleek hair from her neck and letting the bass of the song control her hips.

Why can’t I keep my fingers off it? Baby I want you, na-na…

He’d pay her bills and put a house in her name for her if it meant he got to feel her like this whenever he wanted to. His hands slid across her exposed stomach and down to her hips positioning her dead on his crotch. She could let Beyoncé get her in trouble if she wanted to, he would eat her alive.

….You got me faded-faded-faded Baby I want you na-na…can’t keep your eyes off my fatty Daddy I want you na-na..

Under the pulsing strobe lights Terry and Khia grinded against one another. Turning to face Terry Khia let her body drop into a slow squat, using his thick toned thighs for support as she held one hand over her head to pop her ass.

Last thing I remember is our Beautiful bodies grindin’ up in that club… Drunk in love..

And when she slowly rose back up she let her hand graze the bulge that had formed from her little performance. “How’s that for doing something about it?” She giggled into his ear at his dazed expression.

“You know you fine ass fuck don’t you?… I like a confident bad bitch.” Terry pulled a crisp hundred dollar bill from his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans, palming her thick ass.

__

One hand pressed against the brick wall and the other on her chin Terry and Khia were lip locked outside the bar. The loud smacking noises were fueled by a deep hunger and lust. Khia’s fingers slid up under Terry’s shirt from the front and she sighed into his mouth at the hard ridges of his abs. She loved a built man and Terry had her damn near melting.

“You coming home with me lil mama?….hmm you want some dick?” Terry pressed his plump lips into her neck and sucked roughly, he was so horny he was sure his erection could break through bricks right now.

“Mm yess I want this dick…I’m so wet Terry, can we go?” Her eagerness to let him slut her out had his pants feeling two sizes too small.

“Where’s your car, I’ll walk you to it…then I want you to follow me to my apartment. Imma give you what you want.”

He watched her dainty finger point toward the sleek aegean blue metallic Honda Civic and they began walking to her car. His hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans pulling a laugh out of her.

“You just can’t keep your hands off of me…let me find out.”

Head cocked to the side he raised his bushy brows “Find out what?”

“That you feigning for this good punani…don’t be shame now Terry I’d be feigning too.”

“Oh so you doubling down…that pussy must be good good then?.., that’s cool because I got good thick dick to go right along with it…that good enough for you Miss goodpuss?”

“Show it to me…I wanna see that dick before I take it from you.” Terry smacked her ass after that. She had a nasty mouth, he had to make her eat her words before the night was over.

They finally made it to her car and she popped the locks and opened her driver side door and sat down facing Terry, watching and waiting. Making sure they didn’t have any prying eyes, Terry loosened his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. The gray boxer briefs were moist in the front where the head of his dick sat and it strained to get loose.

He slid them down just enough for his heavy length to slip out and leaned against the roof of her car. Khia’s warm hand sliding up and down and lightly squeezing had him throwing his head back and cursing.

“What the fuck…it’s so big and heavy. You just walk around all day with this big dick?…I’ve never seen one so big, I wanna kiss it. Can I ?” All her nasty talking had his heart rate picking up and his knuckles rapping against the hood of her car impatiently.

“You kiss this dick and imma make you suck it too…don’t play with me.” She ignored him and bent down to press her lips onto the leaking tip, juicy lips pecking over the length of his dick in a sick pattern.

“I do what I want Terry, this is my dick for the night.” Terry reached down and pulled her into a kiss. Their heads swiveled left and right as they took turns sucking each other's tongue. Khia’s hand between their heated bodies slowly gripping and pulling at his shaft.

“Fuck we gotta go…imma pull my truck up next to you and you can follow me.” He stuffed himself back into his boxers and made sure she was situated before closing her door.

He wasn’t scared to admit that he damn near ran to get in his truck, he was beyond horny and his skin felt electric. Pulling up on the side of Khia he rolled down his passenger side window and her pretty eyes looked up at him.

“Big man with a big truck…hmm not surprised that everything is big.” She bit at her lip and Terry directed her to follow him.

__

They made short time of their trip, and the highway was clear of traffic as they pushed their vehicles to get to Terry's apartment. Hands on each other immediately as they stepped onto the elevator leading to his apartment. Terry's hand underneath Khia’s shirt maneuvering around her bra to grab at a titty and pluck her hardened nipples.

The ding of the elevator caused them to jump and they quickly fixed themselves before strolling out towards Terrys front door. He pushed his key in and unlocked the door pushing it open. He showed her where to take her shoes off and walked towards his kitchen to grab a bottle of liquor. His finger motioned for her to come to him.

“Open your mouth…mhm put your head back.” He poured the liquor into her mouth with a hand at the back of her head. Once she swallowed he took a swig and put the cap back on.

“Take off this shirt…let me see these big titties ... .mm so big.” Terry grunted and Khia quickly removed her shirt and went to unfasten the clasp on her bra but Terry moved her hands and stepped behind her to do it himself.

His hands gripped and groped the hot flesh that sat in her cherry red bra. He unfastened the bra and sat it on his kitchen island juggling the soft globes of flesh in his large rough hands. Khia craned her neck backwards pulling him into a needy kiss while he rolled her nipples between his pointer and middle finger.

It was pure erotica. All the shit talking had to be backed up. The floor to ceiling windows in Terrys apartment had been his favorite thing about it when he toured it and now nasty thoughts filled his mind involving them. His hot mouth pressed onto her neck and sucked, he wanted her marked from head to toe.

Reaching his hands around to undo the button in her jeans, he let his hands reach down into her soaked panties. Letting his fingers play around in her drenched pussy, middle finger and ring finger sliding slowly in and out of her. Sliding his wet hand from her pants he lifted the dripping fingers to his nose. Pure euphoria. The pheromones wafted into his nose and he was ready to kick this shit up a notch.

“Undress yourself, then I want you to undress me.” He watched her closely as she shimmied out of her jeans, but made a show of pulling off her panties and that earned her a hard snack to the ass.

“Don’t tempt me right now Khia…all that shit you talked imma need you to back it up mama.” With a cute little smirk to her face she slid the panties off and tossed them into the pile with her jeans.

“Oh I can do that and more, now your turn big daddy.” Terry removed his wristwatch and placed it on the island.

Khia grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started lifting it up from his body allowing him to finish the rest of the way. She let her hands roam over the defined planes of his abdomen and sighed at the small trail of hair that started at his lower stomach and disappeared into his pants. Her hands rushed to undo the buckle of his belt and yank the pants down his long legs. When she finally got to his briefs she giggled in excitement, she had real plans for that dick tonight.

“Don't stop, pull 'em’ down and get your dick…that’s what you called it right?” And she didn’t have to be told twice. When his dick touched her tongue she got greedy, her hands hungrily twisting up and down his hot shaft before feeding it into her mouth. She sucked on his leaking tip further amping him up and feeding her ego.

“You like how I suck this dick?” Her tongue slid further down to his balls slurping and sucking away as his hands began to tangle into her hair. He let her suck him off a few more minutes before he pulled his dick from her mouth and tapped it against her lips.

“Mhm you suck a mean dick I’ll give you that..get up and go stand by the windows I’m just getting started with you.” He pointed her to the large windows.

“I wanna give them a show…let the whole city know I’m fucking on the baddest tonight.”

Terry took his place behind Khia in front the large grand windows, groping and kneading the plentiful flesh of her ass. Pussy hot and ready for the taking he let his fingers slither between her thick thighs again, strumming his thick fingers against her clit. His bold green eyes locked onto her amber colored ones through the reflection in the glass, hands moving a mile a minute inside her and Khia knew she wouldn’t last long.

The clenching and unclenching of her abdominal muscles told her so as she leaned her head back and let him take her away, hands and breast pressed against the window for the whole world to see she felt herself cumming and her body instinctively began to curl away from the pleasure.

Pulling at her hair he forced her upright “Don’t fucking play with me right now…stand up now!” He growled into her ear and popped her ass hard, making her straighten her posture before continuing the assault on her sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh Terry wait wai-“ she began to squirt and it splashed onto the window soaking it right along with the both of them.

Terry removed his hand from between her plush thighs and licked his fingers one by one like they had been dipped in the sweetest icing. Khia turned on her feet and pressed her lips to his, hurrying to suck his tongue and taste herself.

Terry lifted her up and carried her to his bedroom. Mouth full of coochie juice and a handful of fat ass.

__

She was fucking HIM… it was supposed to be the other way around and yet here she was squatted over him dropping all that weight on his dick head thrown back and titties jumping in his face, she was slowly creeping her hand up to his neck squeezing lightly and sending pulses from his head to his toes. She was backing up all that talk and then some.

“Fuck fuck fuck…Terry this dick..oh I can’t.” She let her bounces slow down and that was her first mistake. He had been waiting for a sign of weakness.

Terry had them flipped over in the blink of an eye, pressing her face into the cool charcoal sheets of his bed. He lined his dick up and slid it in hell bent on fucking her silly and to the brink of exhaustion.He didn’t get tired and had the stamina of a damn thoroughbred. He had her on her stomach flat against the bed, one hand securing her neck and the other on her hip. Khias slippery skin was misty with a sheen of sweat and her wig was hanging on for dear life.

“Didn’t I tell you daddy was gonna fuck you up?…hmm. But no you kept throwing that ass on me, now I gotta knock this good pussy out the frame.”

His thrust were deep and rough, and she was barely hanging on to reality at that point. Each time she’d suck in a breath to soothe herself it would get knocked right back out of her lungs on an endless cycle.

An endless cycle of cumming and squirting had drenched the bed sheets below them and the handsome man with the extra large dick that was tapping at her cervix had her with a stuck look on her face;drool slowly leaving her mouth. But she was going out like a sucker…Mr.Big Dick was winning and mama didn’t raise no quitter.

“That’s all you got?…I know a nigga right now that fucks better than this. Your strokes are weak babe.” His grip on her wig tightened and his strokes sped up, his hips connecting with her ass and a loud smacking noise. Changing positions on her ass, he pulled and positioned her body into an arch placing a bulky bicep around her neck anchoring her underneath his large form. He grunted loudly into her ear hand curling underneath her to flick her slippery clit between his fingers.

“Say that shit again I dare you…I’m fucking this pussy up and you lying about it, I feel that squeezing let it out!” Khia realized quickly this was a losing battle, and holding off her nut in hopes he’d cave first was a failure because he hadn’t cum yet and it looked like he wouldn’t for some time.

“Ahh wait…Terry uhn..daddy please!” Khia was throwing in the invisible towel, he did indeed fuck better than them niggas but she loved to talk shit.

“Now I’m daddy…mm mm stand on that shit mama…throw this ass back!”

With the last bit of strength in her system she began to rock back on him slowly. Her pussy was beyond sensitive and she was extremely dehydrated and overstimulated, all the liquids she’d consumed that day drained from her body like she’d been dealing with a vampire.

“Mhmh and when you want some dick who you gonna call?… say daddy TJ..say it or I’ll stop!”

Terry slowed his stroking to an almost complete stop waiting and listening for her to say what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay…fuck. I’ll call daddy TJ when I want dick shi-shit, now fuck me please.”

Terry sped back up face in her neck sucking and nipping at the sweaty flesh. He was close and was prepared to empty his nut right into her, she deserved it for taking his slaying. The wet queefs from her pussy were music to his ears and he found it hard to hold on as it got louder, resolve slipping and balls tightening.

“Fuckkk I’m about to nut in you… good pussy shit…GODDAMN!” Terry was being drained and he wasn't ashamed of whimpering and moaning in this woman’s ear… this woman with the vice grip for a pussy.

They laid out on the bed, muscles sore and bodies spent. Moving eventually to shower off the nights events and crashed into his bed tangled together not shortly after.

__

Terry awoke that Saturday to an empty bed and no text on his phone from Khia. His face scrunched up with a mug as he got up to relieve himself and start his morning routine. He explicitly remembered telling her to text him when she left his apartment and yet no damn text.

Taking it upon himself to contact her he shot her a text making sure she had made it home safe and was shocked when his message didn’t go through, and neither did the one he’d sent after that one. Was he fucking blocked? This was not a game Khia wanted to play with him, you give him pussy that good there was no ignoring or blocking him. Did she think all that shit he said last night was a joke…shit she had to and for that Terry had to be on some shit about it.

Khia had just made it in from the Walgreens up the road from her apartment, and was eager to rush and take the Plan B pill she’d just purchased. She chugged down a glass of water and popped the pill into her mouth. She was sloppy last night and though she was grown and only had herself to blame she partly blamed that extra fine 6 '3 demon with green eyes for not using a condom .No man that fine would be denied pussy when he called for it, so to even the playing fields she had blocked him.

The dick was good, hell even spectacular but it also held just a little too much power for her, she didn’t trust herself around that man or his monster penis. She didn’t make good decisions while it was inside her.

The weekend came and went and by that Wednesday Terry was an afterthought. She had even expected him to pop back up at the bar like her other past suitors, but she hadn’t seen or heard from him since last weekend. Maybe he had gotten the memo after being blocked.

But it was always something so funny about speaking too soon… it always came back to bite.

__

Thursday was one of Khia’s off days, she used it to stock her house with groceries, workout, and tidy around her apartment. Today was no different as she placed her produce and frozen items into their respectable compartments in her refrigerator.

She was due for a run and couldn’t wait to stretch her legs and hit the ground running. Her violet two piece workout set on, tennis shoes tied, and her black beats around her neck she headed to the nearby park she liked to run at, it was less than a block away from her complex so she’d always opted for walking there to get in the extra steps on her Apple Watch.

Eyebrows scrunched with determination she could see the park right up ahead and picked up her pace and finally stepped onto the running trail. Music blaring loud and a steady jog to keep her heart pumping she was proud of her endurance. She was in her zone and utterly and completely locked in, oblivious to the watchful eyes across the street from her.

__

Was she fucking serious? Terry had been losing his mind with a hot case of being pussy whipped and here she was just..jogging? He realized what he was doing days ago when he had initially followed her home to her apartment after her shift at the bar.Some called it stalking. He called it keeping tabs, how else was he supposed to find out what she was up to?

He watched her go lap after lap and snapped a few pictures for his own needs. She wanted to ignore him cool, he’d make her speak to him one way or another. His truck sat just out of her view across the street from the park, a Birds Eye view on the beauty that was insistent on staying out of his hair.

But something caught her eye and she slowed to a stop and slid her headphones from around her neck, she was looking dead at him.

Like a deer in headlights she stood frozen in his direction seemingly trying to confirm his identity. And it seemed she had confirmed correctly as she moved quickly to put space between the two of them. Fuck.

Though this did little to deter him from her he felt he’d made his presence well known, and that’s all he wanted, for her to know that getting rid of him was not some small feat. She had to know how enticing she was, and Terry would lose sleep letting her know just how she had racked his brain.

__

The coming days for Khia had left her in a weird headspace. Was Terry stalking her? She’d known for sure that it was his truck she had seen that day at the park and she had made out his bulky figure from the distance. How long though? Had this been going on since the morning she slipped from his bed, was she actually this unaware of her surroundings?

She stared down at her phone annoyed as another unknown number called her. Terry had resorted to text now numbers and this would be the tenth one she’d had to block this week. She would get a text from a new number each time she blocked the last one. Each number sending a picture of her out and about in public completely oblivious to being watched and followed.

There were pictures of her loading her groceries into the trunk of her car and leaving work late at night, the newest one containing her smiling down at the new set of nails that adorned her hands as she left her nail techs suite.

|Unknown: You always fuck men that good and leave?

|Unknown: I love this smile on your face after you left your nail appointment, I’ll pay for the next set Khia.

|Unknown: When can I nut in that good pussy again? Terrence junior sound good to you?

The texts were constant and nonstop,and Khia was realizing a harsh reality about herself. She hated to admit it but she liked it. The cat and mouse game was turning her on and his constant begging for her pussy made her wet at night. She was sick of the games and wanting to be slutted out again, after all she knew the real power was between her legs. One wrong doing and he would be weaned off her cooch again.

|Khia: If you can find out where I’m at in the next hour this pussy is yours again daddy 😉

|Unknown:BET😈

________________________________________________

A/N: 🫣All in favor of crazy Terry say aye…anywho I hope y'all enjoy this bc he only get worse after this!! And I’m obsessed with these two so there will be another part, love ya bye 🫶🏾

@avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[alwayscorvus]

Hello! I like your headcanons and I would like to suggest an idea. Can I request Jiyan from Wuthering Waves with a reader who was a slave in childhood and still has a barcode on his/her neck? I'm sorry if there are mistakes. English is not my native language 💕

Barcode on my neck

malereader x Jiyan, fluff;

warning! some heavy topics mentioned but no drastic details and no sexual aspects about reader

Brooo thats such a good idea. Like I would want to read something similar myself, I just don't know why exactly I got this request when I don't have enough telent to use this potential :”) Still thx and here it is:

And don't worry about your english, i'm not a native speaker either

Officially no more Jiyan request, I ran out of screenshots to make graphics [*] nah jk jk but this profile is really changing from wuwa profile to jiyan profile while im better with other characters…

You were never ashamed of your “mark,” as you used to call it. You also never hid your past. Yes, it may not have been bright and you would have given up a lot to be able to avoid it. But it also made you who you are right now. It turned you into a tough person. True, you could have grown up that way under less tragic circumstances. But at least you tried to take comfort in the fact that maybe thanks to your sacrifice someone else didn't have to suffer. That maybe you took someone else's place. Place of someone who wouldn't have had the will to fight to survive. Persistence that would allow them to free themself from this chains. Besides, ever since you regained your freedom you have been doing your best to crack down the idea of slavery for good.

You gained strength and attitude while still being young. Since childhood you served under corrupt nobility. Cleaning, running with tea, feeding farm animals. Year after year carrying heavier and heavier goods. From behind the curtains, watching your master, negotiating more and more deals.

This gave you the foundation for starting your own organization. Sure, at first you worked alone. But over time, others joined in. People with the same ideas, those you saved, or those who lost their siblings in similar circumstances.

At first you had to dispense justice by force. As infamous as it may sound. With tricks, you snatched victims from the hands of their oppressors. With fights you made them understand to never make the same mistake again. Back then, it was the only solution. When army couldn't help. And even refused to, bribed with money stained by suffering of innocents. When law changed, people got more aware, and slavery finally became a fact, not just a taboo topic swept under the rug, it was easier for you. Since society began to exterminate what you were fighting against, you could move on to less drastic methods.

You pretended to be important figures, gathered evidence, brought anonymously to the court. You traveled around and saved more and more. Even though you could never get enough, you were proud of what you had accomplished.

For some time. Until you met him.

Jiyan. He was the sweetest and most caring person on world. Always looking out for others. Put other people's well-being above his own. Never forgot to send his subordinates on much-deserved vacation. While he himself stayed up all night in the base. He rushed them to lunch and dinner while he forgot to eat. Moved to the front line, taking the most damage and rescuing his close ones. He was just so kind. So generous, thoughtful. And what's more, so intelligent, hardworking, resourceful. You were totally head over heels for him. And no, you would never in your life suspect him of supporting slavery or showing no sympathy for those who went through it. But you were still afraid of his reaction. Suddenly you felt dirty. After all, conditions in which you “worked” were awful. Especially when they sent you to the animals. You didn't maintain basic hygiene. You weren't worth wasting water on it. Except the time of guests visits, you walked around the residence in sacks. Until they tore to the rest. Your master didn't even bother to look at you. Would it have been the same with Jiyan? Would he feel disgusted? Start keeping you at distance? Or would he take you at his mercy? Start looking at you only through the prism of your past? Stop using your full potential?

Your heart would probably break at this sight that would accompany it. You wouldn't be able to stand it.

For the first time since childhood, you began to feel ashamed of the black ink adorning your neck.

When visiting Huanglong for the first time and meeting Jiyan, you put your organization on hold and covered your neck with thick turtlenecks.

You joined the army as a volunteer. Served under Jiyan's command. You spent more and more time together, and your friendship grew. You matched each other perfectly and both of you caught each other's eye. Your relationship moved smoothly to a higher level.

General never picked too much interest your unusual tastes. But one particularly hot summer he began to look suspiciously at your closet. Worried about your health, looking for potential disorders in your sense of temperature that could later threaten your well-being. He began to ask if you weren't feeling too hot. Whether everything was alright. After all, he covered himself up pretty well, but his clothes were made of a special, highly breathable fabric. To ease the situation you followed his footsteps and provided your closet with similar outfits. Though in a different color theme. Jiyan was satisfied, but only for a moment. It was really starting to get suspicious. Especially when you started sharing a bedroom with each other. He could understand sleeping wrapped up in the winter. But during the vacations? Were you ashamed of him? Jiyan began to feel insecure. He started to blame himself.

You saw this and couldn't forgive yourself.

Yet you were still afraid.

In the end, Jiyan couldn't stand it. At one evening, he pulled you onto a bed for a talk. You avoided his gaze while he looked at you hopefully.

You both held hands. Jiyan gently massaged your palm with his thumb, trying to give you some encouragement. And you squeezed him to the point when it started to feel unbearable.

Finally, you let him go. A shudder of anxiety went through Jiyan. Had he overstepped the boundaries? Did he make you feel uncomfortable? Did he just ruin everything that you two had built together? Do you want nothing to do with him anymore?

But you just closed your eyes, took a deep breath and reached for the hem of your clothing. You pulled it upward. Slowly exposing your body. You tossed the material aside and waited.

Jiyan looked at you surprised. Concerned, he began to scan your body. Too worried to be carried away by feelings that caused him to blush slightly at the sight of your sculpted stomach.

General was searching for something. Some kind of mark. A scar or a birthmark. Something that could “taint” your chest. He furrowed his brow unable to see anything.

You waited and waited. But after no response, you sighed again. You leaned your neck to expose it better. A row of numbers and a barcode made with some crappy ink appeared in front of Jiyan's eyes.

He froze. You could only hear him gasping for air in shock and when a pile of thoughts rushed through his head. He involuntarily lifted his hand up and you shuddered slightly.

-Can I?

You nodded. It's not like you could take it back anymore.

You felt a touch on your neck. Gentle, warm fingertips caused a pleasant tingling sensation. Forgetting the meaning of your mark, you earned a flush similar to that adorning your partner.

-Is that-…?

He wanted to confirm but words got caught in his throat. He was devastated. And at the same time so bloody sorrowful.

-Yes. It's a barcode. Exactly like the ones worn by slaves. Same ones to which I also belonged.

You explained briefly not wanting to prolong the moment. It was hard for you anyway. Not exactly because you were going back to the past but rather because you were worried about the future.

Jiyan didn't know how to respond. He never showed his emotions too boldly. He didn't have any special communication skills. Oh how damn sorry he was when he couldn't pour out all his feelings onto you. This sympathy and love that was once taken from you.

He clenched his fists tightly and ground his teeth.

You knew him well enough to know that he didn't know how to deal with this. This information had to be too overwhelming for him. Exactly as you expected. His well-being was the most important thing for you. So you had to reassure him as soon as possible.

-It happened when I was still a kid. I got sold at young age. I was mainly a helper, bottle washer. I got hit a few times, but as you can see not often enough or-... hard enough- to leave any scars. I didn't live in the best conditions, but for the men it wasn't the worst. You don't have to worry about that. My owners have never crossed the line.

You stuttered out quickly. As you got older, you talked about your feelings unmoved. Trying to take away any impact from these events. Not wanting to burden Jiyan more and really get over it.

You were afraid of rejection.

But it never came.

Not from Jiyan. Your Jiyan.

-Oh, [M/N]-

General let out a concerned voice, which you heard from his mouth for the first time in your life. After a moment, you got locked in a tight hug.

-I can't undo what you had to go through, but I can promise that I will try to make each of your future days the best ones in your life. To me, you will always be my [M/N]. And nothing will change that.

He assured, and your eyes filled with tears. You could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

After a night full of thrills, a new day had come. With a fresh approach to life, you borrowed some looser black shirt from Jiyan. Revealing your barcode, you felt yourself radiating a powerful and intimidating vibe once again. A confident smirk appeared on your face.

As you passed by the soldiers on your way through the camp, you could feel their stares. Familiar whispers, exchanged remarks. An experience so well-known to you. Once again, you felt comfortable in front of others, making them aware that such things really did happen.

But this too had to end. As you sat in your office chair, looking through a pile of documents, with your feet carelessly thrown over a table. You heard someone gasp. One of the recruits, by coincidence one of those you helped to train recently. He stared in fear with his eyes wide open and mouth gaping. Almost burning a hole in your barcode.

Again, an unpleasant shiver went through you. You didn't know why it set you off so much, after all, he reacted just like dozens other people you've passed today, maybe just a little more abruptly. Or... maybe you knew. What made this situation different from previous ones was Jiyan's presence. You were used to these reactions, he was not. Again, you were afraid of how this would affect him. Again, unnecessarily so.

General stood by a wall with a large screen displaying Huanglong's territories under threat of attack. He was analyzing next moves till he got startled by a sudden silence. The way you stopped looking through papers and clanking with a mug of hot coffee.

He turned around in a hurry and situation that he found definitely didn't please him.

He cleared his throat.

-If you have nothing to say rookie, I would advise you to return to your work immediately - Jiyan replied coldly.

Without considering any questions from the soldier.

Young boy panicked slightly, while you smiled triumphantly at that.

This possessive, fierce side of Jiyan that you hadn't known before, especially towards his subordinates... You liked it damn well.

[silversodas]

I Think There Are Actual Hints That Vox and Alastor Work Really Well Together or More Like They Have All They Need to Work Together

So we know that Vox and Alastor like to define each other by how their preferred medium is better, but what’s interesting is that’s just how they define each other, Alastor being an old fashioned radio and Vox being a sell out TV, but that’s not what they are, what they are is Audio and Video. We even see when one might have done better with the others help, like Alastor’s commercial that he did for the hotel

His Audio was fine enough, got your attention, but holy shit, the video was awkward at best, it makes you uncomfortable watching it. And it makes it even more awkward when you can tell Alastor is overcompensating with his voice. But what he did know was a little impressive, some people pointed out that he probably did the editing himself. I believe that these out of place skills such as summoning tech and knowing how it works are remnants of Vox. Just like How Vox is always Smiling when he needs to take control of a situation is remnants of Alastor

They probably learned these things from each other. As a matter of fact the way Alastor kept jumping from scene to scene in the commercial was similar to how Vox kept jumping from visual to visual in the beginning of stayed gone, going vary fast to keep attention. Speaking of which

Stayed Gone is an example where Vox is really strong in visuals, buuuuut probably needed a little help audio wise

Alastor knows how to lure you in with what you hear, Vox pulls you in with what you see, and yeah he snatches your attention right away and (like I said earlier) jumps from visual to visual and you can’t help but be transfixed

Buuuuutt that’s Vox’s problem, they are just watching, his audience can’t even grasp what the fuck he is trying to say because Vox is overcompensating with visuals, and it’s how Alastor verbally slaughtered him in stayed gone. Alastor is so charismatic and experienced with capturing an audience with his voice alone that Vox immediately loses his.

Because, just like how Audio can’t do all the work, neither can video, and one can’t overcompensate for the other, they need to flow together

But I have noticed this a while back, what made me think that they probably work really well together, or rather they have all they need to work together, is what @cringefailvox said about the different outfits that characters like Vox and Alastor wear during songs that have symbolism to it

Like how Vox always dresses as roles that are the leader or face of an organization Bishop/TV Chef/Captain. Roles that have power, but are at the whims of many people and need the approval of said people to stay in power

While Alastor is dressed in more subservient roles Nun/Busboy, roles that are essential to run the organization but often go unnoticed, but can pull the rug out from under said organization if they decide to leave. In other words, it might be symbolic that he is a support (until he decides to take it away)

So Vox being the front runner and presenter basically being everything you see (Which is ironic because Vox means The Voice) and Alastor providing support and stability (he honestly doesn’t do to bad with support, stability is up for debate though) is another way they, in theory, could make a good team.

But the team up would work just like audio and video unfortunately, video is not the most important part, but it’s the part that gets the most credit. while audio emphasis and supports video, it’s part goes unnoticed until it’s not there. And Alastor’s ego has an ass so fat it’s aw inspiring that he can fit it through the door, so that may have been ONE of the reasons he said no to joining Vox (not saying it’s the only reason or even main one)

Vox may even see the potential for exactly what their partnership could be and it’s a reason why he took it so personally when Alastor shot him down

And it’s just so interesting that Vox and Alastor act like forces that should be pitted against each other but their capabilities show that they would go together like peanut butter and chocolate (in theory)

[konigofmyheart]

𑁍 farmer könig pt.2 𑁍

a rainy day on you + könig’s farm…

(gn!reader, fluffy fluff <3, part 1 )

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍 𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍 𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍 𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍 𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

you were weeding the strawberry patch when it suddenly started raining. you gasped, the cold drops hitting your back making you shiver as you leapt to your feet. “liebling-“ könig laughed as he dropped the shovel he’d been using to prep a new patch for pumpkins, seeing how you’d put your sun hat on like that would help you. it did a bit, keeping the rain out of your eyes as you snatched up your harvest basket (some carrots, strawberries, green beans, and a head of lettuce snuggly nestled in the bottom), but your back was still being sprinkled with the rain.

this definitely wouldn’t do. in a flash, könig plucked your hat off your head, using it as a lid for your bucket, scooped you up, stuffing you under his shirt, and wrapped your legs around his waist. you blink in the darkness, his strong arms wrapped around you, your face pressed against his warm chest as he runs to your house, the sensation of being jostled like this making you giggle. it’s like a roller coaster, könig legit leaping over your crops, then your chickens and goats as they too dash for their little houses (built by him, of course).

“don’t worry, schatzi, almost there!” he assures you, hoping his voice masks the sound of the goats complaining about who gets to go inside first. all the better you’re under his shirt, unable to see, or else you’d definitely stop to scold delilah for head butting thomas to take his spot in line. könig makes a mental note to make the goats’ door wider to avoid little spats like that in the future. it’ll have to wait for tomorrow, though, the sound of the rain hammering on the roof of your porch as he carefully maneuvers you and him inside making it clear it’ll be an indoors day.

könig stops in the entryway, knowing better than to track mud onto the rugs. he can’t help but snort a little at the way your hair is mussed when he frees you from under his shirt, setting you on your feet. you’re just a bit wet, but könig’s dripping water on the floor, some drops plinking onto your hair when he places a soft kiss on your forehead. “you look so cute like that, liebling” he coos, and then, right as you’re thanking him… he shakes like a dog, sprinkling drops all over the place! “hold on, i’ll get you a towel. you’re getting water everywhere”, you scold him, lightly swatting at his arm.

𑁍

you sit on the bench in the entryway, having changed into dry clothes, and towel könig’s hair. he’s sat on the floor, your legs hooked over his broad shoulders, making you laugh at the way he leans in to your touch, and the way he playfully nips at your hands through the towel. yup, just like a wet dog…

it’s most definitely a relaxing day in, warm bowls of soup and cuddles on the couch as you watch the rain through the window. all signs point to a bountiful harvest season. <3

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Behave ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: (soft) dom!atsushi won the poll <3 thank u everyone for ur support on my fics! every like and esp follows + reblogs count sm and i rly luv when u interact wit me, send me msgs and stuff like that, it means sm to me that u enjoy my work :3 and idk if u will come back to read this anon but if u do, i hope u enjoy it <3

genre: da nasty

content warning: f!reader. MDNI! (soft) dom!atsushi. reader is a bit of a brat. bondage (handcuffs). fingering. orgasm denial. praise (lots of it). atsushi calls you "good girl." ;)

summary: it's about time atsushi taught you to follow the rules.

no one would ever expect it.

– of course not.

the ada's sweet, blushing jinko was rushing through his paperwork all day today, so eager to get to your apartment tonight. what could he say? he just wanted to see you so badly.

he wanted to see that cute, embarrassed face of yours.

he wanted to cuff your hands behind your back and fuck you –

kunikida, for example, would never expect it.

his coworker stopped him right in his tracks while he was halfway out the door, hitting him with that unanswerable question: "where could YOU possibly be off to in such a hurry?" just as soon as he was about to leave. all atsushi could do was clutch his phone to his chest anxiously and hope kunikida didn't have the slightest suspicion about the sort of things atsushi might enjoy doing on his days off.

someone like kunikida would never understand it – no one at the ada would, really.

atsushi isn't nearly as clever as dazai or ranpo, nor is he indispensable like yosano, or strong like kenji. the bedroom is the only place he doesn't have to be anyone but himself. he doesn't need to prove his usefulness to you – between the sheets, there is no power struggle. you submit to him completely. you want him to take control.

and he'll take it – he'll take it over and over again.

by the time he reaches your apartment, it's already night. your place is is small but cozy, tucked away in a neighborhood a train ride away from yokohama, somewhere where there's not as much violent crime. you're laying on the rug on your bedroom floor, wearing nothing but his shirt and your panties, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. that's just like you to pay him no mind – to ignore him and feign innocence after playing such a dirty trick, knowing that you were probably on his mind for hours before. as he sets his bag on the bedside table, you barely move to acknowledge him, instead pleasantly thinking about how worked up and annoyed he must be at your blatant display of nonchalance.

"oh, you're here."

you turn over on your back, glancing up at him. there's that sweet face of yours. you're batting your eyelashes up at him like you hadn't done a thing at all, and now your shirt is riding up your thighs and ruching up the sides of your stomach. you know every weakness of his and exactly how to play them to your advantage. he rolls his eyes, kneeling down beside you. "yeah, i'm here."

snatching your phone from your hand, he tosses it on the bed in annoyance, and the first thing he does is scold you. "that wasn't very nice, you know, sending those videos during work. kunikida could have saw."

a frown forming on your face at his frustration, you pout at him. "did you not like them?"

you're too good at convincing him to forgive you – as if he were ever mad at you in the first place. his expression softens at your disappointed voice. you beam as he relents, pulling you into his lap and playing with the strands of your hair. "of course i did," he mutters as you relax into his gentle touch. "i liked them too much.

– but you know it's against the rules to touch yourself like that without me."

of course –

breaking the rules always meant punishment – and you'd be lying if you said this wasn't exactly what you wanted in the first place.

getting up from his position, you wait patiently as atsushi shuffles through the box hidden under your bed for the pair of cuffs saved exactly for punishments. you hear the quiet clinking of metal behind you, then feel atsushi's hands smoothing down your shoulders. "do you remember your safe-word?" he asks, and you nod, repeating it back to him.

"that's my girl..." he murmurs. his voice is a honeyed whisper in your ear, thick with desire and dripping with such sweetness as you feel him begin to adjust the restraints around your wrists from behind you. "just tell me if you want to stop, okay?" the leather is smooth against your skin but worn and slightly frayed, the cuffs already fit perfectly to your wrists from using them on you nights before. your back arches as you feel him tug on the restraints to test them, honey already collecting between your thighs at the anticipation of being touched by him.

you hear the quiet click of metal as he hooks the cuffs together. "is it comfortable?" he asks, his voice as gentle as always, and you feel his fingers intertwine with yours lovingly. you nod obediently, then melt into his touch as his hands brush through your hair, as his lips travel down your neck and your shoulder in a series of delicate kisses that you sigh into. you ache to kiss him back, to run your fingers through his silver hair, but the restraints hold you in place. all you can do is turn your body to slightly face him and hope he gets the message that you want more, that you want him to kiss you again as you tip your chin toward him, as you lean into his touch behind you.

you feel his hands grasping your waist, just slightly toying with the hem of your shirt. "you'll be a good girl for me, won't you?" – and he's brushing the underside of his thumb across your lips, gazing expectantly into your innocent eyes. nothing there but complete devotion. you nod, then his fingers are reaching elsewhere – between your thighs – and you're trembling with desire as you feel them hook under the waistband and peel the garment between your legs. "you're so wet already.

don't worry. i'll take care of you."

his fingertips are rough, calloused from all the fights he's been in, but his nails are perfectly trimmed, and he knows just where to touch you. the reassurances he murmurs into your neck make you pliant, and you spread your legs wider for him as he runs his fingers along the side of your thigh, teasing you with gentle brushes while his other hand grabs the swell of your breast. "pretty baby," he coos, and you turn your cheek toward him to gaze into his longing eyes. "you should have just waited for me to come home."

slowly dipping inside of you, you watch as your arousal drips from his fingertips. "baby, you're so wet... look," he sighs, lips soft against your earlobe. he's right – you're soaking, and the evidence is all there, the thin string of wetness webbing between his fingers as he pulls them between your legs. you gasp softly, half from embarrassment of just how wet he's made you already, and the other half from the feeling of a second finger being eased inside of you. you feel him smile behind you, grasping your waist tighter, "you can take it, baby, just like you take me. just stretch a little more."

then, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you hear the slick sound of them slipping out of you so easily. "but you want me here most, right?" he teases, his voice a low whisper in your ear, and you feel those skillful fingers of his encircling your pulsing clit – the place that he knows always makes you moan the loudest – and you nod desperately, hips chasing after his touch as you feel his fingers move farther and farther away.

"not yet, baby. not yet" –

and you obey.

you whine for him, beg for him, plead for him,

until his fingers seek you once more, until he brings you to the edge only to snatch it away over and over again.

when he can't take more of your begging, he unclasps you from your restraints, kisses up your inner thigh, gazes into your eyes lovingly and showers you with endless praises. then, pulling you into his arms, he bends you over your pillow, runs his hands up and down your body like you're a doll before taking you over and over until you've had your fill –

"that's my good girl," he whispers, kissing up and down your spine. "now you know to behave, right?"

author ps: i didn't write about the aftercare, but any bdsm scene should always ALWAYS include aftercare. + ofc atsushi would give u the best aftercare ever <3

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[ephie-om]

The Body-Swap Curse (and related shenanigans)

TW: None

WC: 8.3k

My entry for Blacjack's Prompt Roulette by @obeymevents! I got time travel body swap which was a hell of a ride to try and fit into a oneshot, but I think I managed it!

Luke groans, slumping back in his chair. “Can we go now?”

“Not yet,” Simeon says for the hundredth time. “Just a bit longer.” 

Luke glares at the clock on the wall, as if he could change it with sheer willpower. “We’re supposed to be there in five minutes.”

“We can walk quickly.” Simeon returns his full attention to the plate of assorted pastries in front of him, moving a scone to the left by a hair’s width.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect,” Luke gripes. 

Simeon’s mouth turns down in a frown before he can stop himself. “I would argue it does, actually. Barbatos is going to be the first person to see this, and you know how quick he is to spot imperfections.”

Luke huffs, crossing his arms. “He never says my stuff is imperfect.”

“That’s because he likes you,” Simeon mutters under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Luke hops off his chair and Simeon straightens his back, grimacing at the tightness in his back. Standing hunched over a counter for twenty minutes tends to not be kind to his spine. He wraps up the platter with utmost care as Luke tries his best to keep from tapping his foot impatiently by the door. Simeon looks himself over in the mirror by the entryway to check for wrinkles in his outfit.

“Simeon.”

“Yes. Coming.”

The pair set out from Purgatory Hall in the direction of the Demon Lord’s Castle, Luke struggling slightly to keep up with Simeon’s steps. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“Nope,” Luke pants. “I’m okay.”

Simeon slows down just a bit, checking his watch with one hand to balance the plate carefully with the other. They should still have enough time to make it, barring any unfortunate circumstances.

The grand doors to the Demon Lord’s castle begin to creak open with only a quick knock from Simeon. Luke clasps his hands behind his back, excited gaze looking into the sliver of the majestic foyer already visible. Warm light spills from the building, bathing the angels’ faces in an inviting glow. The distant sounds of laughter echo from the main hall, a relaxing moment for- 

“HEY! GIVE THAT BACK!” 

Simeon nearly startles before remembering his precious tray of pastries. Luke is not so lucky, leaping almost a foot into the air from fright. “Simeon? Simeon, what was that??”

“Taking into account my eardrums nearly rupturing, I would guess someone’s set off Leviathan.”

A streak of black, white, and gold speeds past them, and Simeon pushes Luke behind him with his free hand. Two sets of footsteps sound from the hall, one at a run and the other at a quick walk. Levi skids around the corner, crumpling an expensive-looking rug, when he spots the angels. “Which-” he breaks off into a wheezing cough, and Luke’s features twist with worry. “Which way did he go?” Simeon points with a bemused smile. Lucifer’s sharp steps turn the corner, and he fixes Levi with a glare just as he tenses up to run off again. Levi swallows hard and launches into a defensive monologue on how the entire situation is really Mammon’s fault, and Levi shouldn’t be in trouble at all since he was only trying to get back what’s rightfully his, and Lucifer should really be chasing down Mammon right now so he doesn’t get away with it. 

Lucifer lets out one of his patented sighs (an oddly nostalgic sound for Simeon). “He won’t be getting very far, you can be sure of that.”

Simeon and Levi both follow Lucifer’s gaze to the staircase at opposite end of the foyer, where the collar of Mammon’s jacket is being held with an iron grip by Barbatos’ long fingers. Mammon looks almost cartoonishly defeated; Simeon swears he can almost see the life draining from him. He hands the small object (game cartridge? Do they still make those?) back to Levi, who snatches it from him with a huff.

Barbatos descends the stairs gracefully and returns Luke’s excited wave with a small one of his own. “Would you like me to take that to the table?” he asks, nodding to the platter that Simeon carries.

“I can handle it, thank you,” Simeon replies coolly. 

“Of course,” Barbatos nods, face still adorned with that ever-polite smile. He walks away to attend to anyone else who needs help, and Simeon grinds his teeth and sets the plate down on the plush tablecloth. His ears perk as Diavolo’s booming laugh carries easily across the room, promising lively conversation. Simeon finds himself wondering how the prince and his butler, such opposites, get along so well. Diavolo practically radiates warmth and energy, while Barbatos… well. Simeon spots him out of the corner of his eye scolding Satan, whose angrily lashing tail threatens to knock over a nearby chair.

Simeon manages to lose himself in a quiet conversation with Beel and Levi, slowly meandering through any topic that comes to mind (though Simeon makes a conscious effort to avoid any mention of food, fearing for the snack table’s life). Occasionally one of the brothers or Solomon has the audacity to cause trouble even under Lucifer’s watchful eye, which makes him shoot up from his chair with startling speed. Levi fights back a giggle every time he does, and Simeon would have to admit it’s just a little entertaining to watch the chair wobble in his wake.

“...go with him?”

“Sorry?” Simeon startles slightly, sitting up straight in his chair. Diavolo’s face beams down at him, and his neck creaks painfully at its awkward angle. 

“Would you like to accompany him?” he asks Simeon again.

“Uh… of course.” Simeon nods, hoping it seemed like he had been paying attention for however long the prince had been talking in his direction.

“Fantastic!” the prince claps his massive hands. “I hope you’ll be able to find it.”

“My lord, I do think it’ll be alright if I go alone. I know the castle’s library better than almost anyone in existence,” Barbatos protests from behind Simeon’s chair.

“Nonsense! Two sets of eyes is better than one, right?” Diavolo proclaims.

Simeon takes note of the muscle in Barbatos’ jaw clenching. “Of course, my lord.” He nods deeply, almost a bow, and sets his gaze on Simeon when he straightens. “Shall we be off then?”

Simeon rises from his chair. “Let’s go.”

—

The walk to the royal library is silent save for the sound of two pairs of footsteps and the fading sounds of the party behind them. Simeon considers trying to get more information out of Barbatos on what exactly he should be looking for, but he puts the idea to rest as quickly as it came. Barbatos was probably already looking for a reason to decide that Simeon shouldn’t be let into the royal library, and Simeon wasn’t naive enough to pass up a chance this rare. 

The doors to the library, though not as large as the ones at the castle’s entrance, are much more intricate. Images carved into each wooden panel, almost like a relief wall, depicting key moments of Devildom history. A war being won with demons hoisting banners in celebration, the Demon King raising a range of mountains on the western edge of his kingdom, ranks of warlike demons rising from the ground to meet- was that one supposed to be Solomon?

Barbatos summons a large, ostentatiously decorated key into his hand with a teal flash of light and slides it into the bronze lock almost silently. The doors open with a rather anticlimactic click and open smoothly on their hinges.

Shelves of books stretch as far as the eye can see. Staircases sweep up from either side of the room. Simeon can only see three flights up if he cranes his neck, but judging by the way his small cough echoes through the room, there must be more. A sudden urge to stretch his wings takes him, and it takes no small amount of self-control to resist flying to the very top of those vaulted ceilings. 

“What section do you think we ought to start in?” Barbatos’ voice breaks him out of his thoughts. 

“Well…” Simeon trails off, trying to think of a quick way out of this bind.

“That is, of course, assuming you remember what we were asked to look for.”

Simeon forcibly relaxes his face before it can frown. “Of course I do. I’m just… thinking.”

Barbatos gives him a graceful nod. “Naturally. I only observed your rather panicked look when the Young Master asked you to accompany me.”

“That was only due to the fact that I’ve never been in the royal library before,” Simeon smiles back, composure recovered. “I was thinking about all the knowledge collected here over millennia. I’m delighted to see that all of these books are in such good condition despite their age. As for what section…”

Where should they start? Diavolo had asked them to go looking for something, going as far as to send someone to help Barbatos, so it must be something he can’t find. No, that’s not right. This library must be impeccably organized to keep a record of all of these books, especially under Barbatos’ watchful eye. So Diavolo sent someone else to get the item, not a regular servant, but Barbatos himself, because… because it was dangerous. Right?

“The ‘cursed, magical, or otherworldly’ section.” Simeon decides, peeking at Barbatos out of the corner of his eye. The butler’s expression falters, only minutely, but enough for Simeon to silently celebrate his victory. 

“I see you were listening,” Barbatos says through barely gritted teeth. He sets off without warning, leading the way up two flights of stairs, shoes clacking across the marble floor. Simeon follows, trying to look at as many of the shelves as possible as they walk. Most of the books’ spines on this floor are written in Old Infernal, a jumbled mess of odd runes that sends sharp pangs through his eyes when he tries to make any sense of it.

“Be careful not to touch anything. If you think you’ve found it, call me over and I will get it for us.” Barbatos warns him. Simeon watches curiously as his long fingers find an invisible barrier keeping them from the section, and with a moment of concentration and the same teal glow, the barrier’s magic melts away. 

The thick layers of demonic energy that were contained in their section begin to flood around Simeon, sending a chill down his back. Barbatos immediately begins to scan the shelves in front of him for his prize, but Simeon takes a moment to breathe through the heavy air, which for only a moment, feels thick with the smell of burnt feathers. Barbatos pauses and watches him with a raised eyebrow. “This is why I wanted to come alone,” he mutters, almost apologetically.

Simeon opens his mouth to reply, but a wave of nausea washes over him, and he shuts it quickly. One more deep breath, then two, then his stomach settles. “I’m alright,” he pants. “Just didn’t expect that.”

Barbatos hmphs and continues his search. Simeon pretends to look for whatever it is they were sent here for on his side of the shelf, but his gaze flits over the covers, trying not to give himself a headache.

The few titles in any human tongue still manage to make absolutely no sense to the angel. The titles are filled with ancient Latin and Aramaic, magical terms that probably only Solomon would be able to understand. Simeon has no trouble with understanding the languages themselves, but the technical jargon makes his eyes glaze over. He has a fleeting memory of his training in the Celestial Realm. No matter how hard his teachers tried to make their lessons interesting, his mind always took creative liberties. He loved the art in his textbook of seraphim with their swords that looked sharp enough to cut the page they stood on. In his imagination, the tip of their weapons gleamed in the sunlight as they moved, sweeping the sword into a defensive stance, almost more art than it was combat.

“I take it you haven’t found anything yet.” Barbatos’ dry voice snaps Simeon back to reality, and he realizes he’s still standing in the same spot he was when they started their search.

“Ah- no. Not yet.” Simeon feels the heat rising to his cheeks, knowing he’s been caught. Barbatos sighs in a way that reminds him of Lucifer.

“Maybe it would be easier if you started at the edge of the section. That way, we could both work our way in towards the middle.”

“What, are you trying to get rid of me?” Simeon teases.

Barbatos stares back at him, impassive.

Simeon’s smile fades.

—

The books at the edge of the section prove to be no more interesting than the ones in the middle. Simeon’s mind is wandering once again, but to less fantastical roamings, and more petty, nitpicking, thorny fields. Barbatos’ perfect composure is chipping away at his own, much too quick for comfort. It irks him how quickly the butler can get under his skin. He can handle a small child blind to the outside world and a sorcerer who tries his best to be the perfect embodiment of human chaos, but this demon somehow manages to set him off with just a few well-chosen words. 

Deep in thought, a familiar teal glow catches his eye from a nearby shelf. Could Barbatos be trying to trick him? He glances around suspiciously, but finding nothing, moves closer. 

The glow fades as he walks, squinting a bit to keep his gaze in the right area. The sound of Barbatos’ heels clacking against the floor startles him, and he loses his place on the shelf. He feels his annoyance rise, and the book starts to glow again. He narrows his eyes and finally makes a grab for the book- just as Barbatos rounds the corner. “Don’t touch-”

A flash of light, a sharp pain in his forehead, body thudding against the floor, then nothing. 

—

Simeon opens his eyes slowly, head still reeling. Across from him, a figure clad in white stirs. He feels a small wave of relief knowing that someone else had witnessed whatever just happened. Wait a moment... hadn't Barbatos been in his signature black and teal? He looks down, confused. His hands are pale against his black pants, and- was he-

He looks up in a panic, only to find his own eyes staring back at him. That innocuous brown book lies on the floor in perfect condition, perfectly halfway between the two of them. Simeon scrambles to reach it, hoping with everything he has that the book has some way to fix this mess, only to trip and fall facefirst on his new tail. Barbatos- in his body- sits up slowly, flexing his fingers with apparent curiosity. Simeon tries once more to reach the book, using muscles he isn't quite sure he had before to move his tail out of the way.

His fingers close on the cover, and he yanks it backwards into his chest, not daring to move more than he has to. The pages fall rather conveniently open to the middle of the book, where the familiar Old Infernal alphabet greets him again. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for another headache, but none comes. He peeks out from his eyelids and is shocked to find that the letters are... just letters. Not ones he can understand, but not ones that stab into his eyes. He skims the text frantically, searching for any indication of a curse, but he finds no such clues. He curses mentally, tempted to put the book down and try to break the curse himself. Barbatos beckons for the book with a disdainful frown, an expression Simeon isn’t sure he’s ever made before. He hands it over, and pain flashes across Barbatos’ face. He inhales sharply, squeezing his eyes shut reflexively. Simeon winces in sympathy, but Barbatos forces his eyes open and tries again, voice strained through the pain. Slowly, he reads aloud what seems to be a children's tale.

Kyvyr and Llitsi woke up on the floor. Their heads hurt from being knocked out so suddenly. Kyvyr looked over at Llitsi, and he thought about calling her a rude name, when he realized she was wearing his clothes, and she looked awfully like him too!. He looked down to find her clothes on his body, and he was terrified. Llitsi looked back at him with his own wide eyes. The conniving human cackled evilly. "You'll have to learn to get along now!" Kyvyr jumped up, wobbling from his longer legs. "You can't leave us like this!” He shouted. The human laughed again. "Don't worry, little demon. I also added something in for demons who like to tell lies so much." She disappeared in a flash of light.

Simeon's forehead drops into his chest. "I told you not to touch anything," his own voice snipes. 

He shoots what he hopes is a withering glare back in Barbatos' direction.

"I couldn't read a word out of this entire section," he retaliates, the sentence coming out a bit whinier than he intended.

"That doesn't warrant violating the single rule I set for you when we came in here," Barbatos says coldly. "If you'll recall, I didn't want you here in the first place."

Simeon scoffs. "Yes, you've made that exceedingly clear."

"But alas," Barbatos continues sarcastically, "you had to come, and couldn't even abide by the one, singular boundary I gave you."

Simeon's tail smacks wetly against the floor at that, startling him. It rises again, twitching angrily, and his chest rises to give Barbatos another retort, but the words fail him. He sighs heavily. "There's nothing for it now," he says morosely. "We'll have to find a way to break the curse."

Barbatos rubs his eyes again, readying himself for another go at the book. Simeon watches him 

turn pages over the course of a few painful minutes before he sets the book down and sighs. “It seems as though the story is an allegory for our own situation. Due to our… strained relationship, we’ve been forced into each other’s bodies for an indeterminate amount of time.” Barbatos frowns down at the book. “Although I’m not entirely sure what that last sentence is supposed to mean.”

Simeon takes a deep breath and stands carefully, still not used to the added weight of his tail. 

“So, we’ll just wait until the curse fades?”

“Of course not,” Barbatos scoffs. “The young master couldn’t possibly be without a butler; I don’t even want to imagine what he would get up to without proper guidance.”

Simeon hums in thought. “I’d rather not see Solomon unsupervised with a young angel either…”

“It’s settled then,” says Barbatos grimly, a determined set to his jaw. “We’ll have to continue as usual. You’ll need to learn the basics of Devildom servantry, of course, but I should be able to handle Solomon just fine.”

“They’ll be able to tell,” Simeon shakes his head. “Diavolo and Solomon especially are far too perceptive for that to work. We’ll just have to tell a few people.”

Barbatos considers for a moment, then mutters to himself, “I suppose it wouldn’t do to have my reputation soiled by someone who has such a vague idea of their duties…”

Simeon shoots him a look, but it seems to be lost on him. “Let’s get going.”

Barbatos tuts. “Not without what we came for. Or have you forgotten again?”

“If you’ll recall, trying to read any demonic language is only going to leave you with a raging headache. I’m sure your young master will understand.”

Barbatos tries to growl in displeasure, but lacking the necessary vocal cords, makes a wet, choked sort of noise low in his throat cut off by a harsh cough.

—

Diavolo’s booming laugh rings throughout his office. “I never thought I’d see the day when my old friend was defeated by a cursed book!” Simeon glances over at Barbatos, who he’s sure is ruining his teeth by the muscles working in his jaw. Diavolo glances between the two of them, torn between looking at Barbatos’ familiar face or the body he’s actually in. 

“My lord, if it pleases you, I can stay and continue my duties-”

“Nonsense! What would people say if the head of staff suddenly disappeared and was replaced by our own exchange student?” Barbatos is silent, but a vein pops out in his forehead, one Simeon didn’t even know existed. “I’m sure Simeon will do an excellent job here. And for that matter, I’ve heard Solomon has wanted to spend time with you for some time now.” The forehead vein throbs uncomfortably. Simeon looks away.

“I’ll try to be the best substitute I can for now,” Simeon pledges, bowing his head slightly. 

“Fantastic! Oh, and Barbatos, could you ask Solomon for help on breaking the curse?”

Barbatos gives him a strained smile. “Of course, my lord.”

—

Simeon opens his eyes slowly, head still reeling. Across from him, a figure clad in white stirs. 

His own eyes blink back at him, and when he looks down, he sees Barbatos’ clothes, hands, and the tip of his tail. “Are we…”

“Back where we just came from?” Barbatos finishes. 

“What happened?” Simeon asks, more to himself than Barbatos. Suddenly, he narrows his eyes, accusatory. “What did you do?”

Barbatos scoffs. “I didn’t do anything, if you’re trying to imply that this is my fault. Might I remind you who got us into this mess to begin with?”

Simeon finds another sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but stops mid-breath. “Remember the story? There was something in there…” he trails off in thought. “Let me try something. Um… I love what this book did to us.”

—

Simeon wakes up sprawled on the library floor, just like he expected. The look in Barbatos’ eyes tells him he must have figured out the same thing Simeon did. Barbatos groans, leaning back against a bookshelf. “What a childish punishment.”

“It did come from a children’s book,” Simeon points out.

“No telling lies? Really?” Barbatos says, decidedly ignoring him. “How ridiculous.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to get around,” Simeon consoles. “We just have to make sure we’re always telling the truth.”

Barbatos snorts. “You’ve obviously never served Diavolo. When I started out, I told myself I would never lie to the Prince, even if it meant more work for me.”

“And now?” Simeon prompts.

“This morning I told him that I would tell Lucifer to turn around and go home if Diavolo didn’t have his budget proposal done before the brothers got there.”

Simeon chuckles under his breath, the mental image of Barbatos dangling a tiny Lucifer in front of the prince like a carrot to a horse too funny to resist. “I’m sure I’ll be able to work around it somehow. I am a writer, after all. I’d like to think half-truths are something I specialize in. You’ll have your hands full with Solomon anyhow.”

Barbatos gives a rather undignified groan. “I’d rather you not remind me.”

—

Barbatos tries for the hundredth time to pull his hair back, becoming increasingly frustrated by the length of Simeon’s hair. Why would one ever willingly have a hairstyle long enough to be in their eyes but too short to be tied back? He wonders idly what awful things Simeon is doing to his own precisely maintained locks. Anything to keep his mind off of the destination his feet are taking him towards. Anything for Diavolo, he reminds himself. It’s all part of the job.

He knocks sharply on the door of Purgatory Hall, and the door swings open only moments later to a small blonde head of hair. “Simeon, you know you don’t have to knock,” Luke giggles up at him. For a fraction of a second, Barbatos considers keeping the curse a secret just to see the little angel smile up at him like that a few more times. He rests a hand on Luke’s head, the feeling of which he can only liken to patting a small, energetic cloud, as Solomon rounds the corner. He seems to be focused on a book, only glancing up briefly to give Barbatos a nod of acknowledgement, before stopping in his tracks and studying him closer. Barbatos removes his hand from Luke’s head with a twinge of regret.

“Unfortunately, I’m not Simeon.” Luke steps back, confused blue eyes looking back at him. 

“Something… regrettable happened at the castle, triggering a curse that caused he and I to trade bodies. I’m here on Diavolo’s orders to attempt to maintain some sense of normalcy while we sort out the situation.”

Luke blinks up at him, eyebrows furrowed together. “So you’re…”

“Barbatos,” Solomon finishes, looking infinitely more invested in the situation than he had a few moments ago. Luke gives a soft oh of recognition. “What happened?” Solomon asks offhandedly, cocking his head. The look on Solomon’s face would seem almost innocent to the untrained eye, but Barbatos knows better. Behind the nonchalant smile lies the mind of a schemer, one that’s likely concocting a plan at this very moment to make this situation go as horribly as possible for Barbatos. 

“So you’re going to be staying with us?” Luke pipes up from somewhere near Barbatos’ elbow. 

“I will, so long as you’ll have me,” he replies, trying to summon one of Simeon’s signature soft smiles. 

Luke lets out a cheer and rushes to the kitchen. “There’s so many things we can do while you’re here!” 

“Oh, yes,” Solomon agrees with a sinister smile. “It’s a real opportunity, isn’t it?”

Barbatos feels a pit of unease forming in his stomach. Anything for Diavolo.

—

The sound of Simeon’s shoes ring throughout the castle’s halls as he walks. No matter how softly he steps, somehow the heels make him sound more like a full-grown horse galloping wildly through the castle. He’s become convinced that Barbatos has some sort of silencing charm on his shoes constantly; almost everyone has a story of the butler sneaking up on them from behind in complete silence.

Thankfully, Diavolo has worked with the staff to ensure that Simeon’s workload is much less than Barbatos’ regular one. Only a select few demons know of his situation, and they’ve acted quickly and seamlessly to keep it under wraps. Simeon checks the tasklist folded up in his pocket covered in Barbatos’ neat handwriting. Chief among his responsibilities is making sure that no matter what, Diavolo completes his tasks for the day. Barbatos had informed him very seriously that this is something that can only be accomplished by someone who wears Barbatos’ face, the only tool able to strike true fear into the heart of the prince. Simeon had scoffed at him, taking it for a joke, but the look in Barbatos’ eyes made him think otherwise. 

Simeon turns sharply, nearly missing the doorway to Diavolo’s office. The door is open just a crack, enough to check on him but still afford him a manner of privacy. Simeon raps on the doorframe as he pushes the door open, and Diavolo startles for a moment, then composes himself.

Diavolo grins wide, displaying impressively sharp teeth. “Barbatos! Come look at what our 

exchange student showed me how to do!”

Simeon enters the room cautiously, his gaze finding a pile of crumpled paper covering the prince’s massive desk. “What are these?”

“Origami cranes,” Diavolo says proudly. “In some human cultures, it’s a tradition to make a thousand of these to prove you’re worthy of the honor.”

“The honor of what exactly?”

“The honor of making a thousand paper cranes, naturally.”

“I’m not sure that’s what it’s-”

“So I decided to start working on them today. They’re very delicate, you know, so I thought I might make another thousand first just for practice. I’m not very good at the small folds quite yet.”

Simeon closes his eyes, sending a rather dour prayer for patience to the heavens. "Lord D- My lord. I'm not sure that would be in your best interest." To his dismay, the sparkle in Diavolo's eyes only grows brighter.

"Ah, but, my friend, haven't you considered the implications of this project for the cultural exchange? Surely the grueling nature of this task will help me be more sympathetic to the plight of humans.”

Simeon pretends to think it over while he picks up one of the mangled cranes. Unfolding it, he finds exactly what he was hoping not to see: important-looking legal text. “My lord, are you making cranes out of your paperwork?”

The tips of Diavolo’s ears turn red. “I’m quite sure I have two thousand of those lying around, so it only made sense for me to use them. I didn’t want to waste paper, after all.”

Simeon nods slowly, thinking. He leans against the desk, trying to look sympathetic. “You just need a distraction from your work, right?”

Diavolo cocks his head, reminding Simeon of Cerberus for a moment. “I guess so,” he grins, taking the paper from Simeon’s hand and refolding it. 

“I think I have one for you,” Simeon says, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Diavolo perks up instantly. “Really? What is it?”

“You can unfold all of these and smooth them back out,” Simeon says with a smile, gesturing to the mass of cranes covering the desk. Diavolo’s shoulders droop visibly.

“But the cultural exchange-”

“Needs you to finish your work.” Simeon finishes. “I'll be back to check on your progress!” he says cheerily, exiting the room with light steps. His first problem with his new job had turned into quite the rousing success, he decides. 

—

“Make him stop!” Luke wails, crouching behind the kitchen island. Barbatos had gone to the bathroom for no more than three minutes, trying to compose himself while pointedly avoiding the mirror. A deafening whirring noise had ripped him from his thoughts, and he could hear Luke’s yelps of fright through the door. He runs through the hall to the kitchen, nearly tripping over an awkwardly placed end table, to find Solomon standing over a stand mixer nearly vibrating off of the counter. Whatever doughy concoction is in the dangerously rattling bowl threatens to leap over the sides at any moment, and Barbatos isn’t in the mood to evacuate Purgatory Hall for biohazard contamination.

“Now, now,” Solomon consoles, almost shouting over the noise. “Only a few more minutes and I’ll be able to shut it off.”

“Solomon,” Barbatos growls, stalking towards the sorcerer.

“What’s that?” he shouts. “I can’t quite hear you over the mixer.”

Barbatos reaches for the cord to the mixer and rips it from the outlet, leaving the mixer’s blades to spin down, slowly quieting. Solomon frowns down at the bowl. “Well, it’s ruined now,” he says petulantly.

“It was already ruined when you got your hands on it!” Luke shrieks. “I said I would wait for Barbatos to help me!”

Solomon shrugs. “Who knew how long he was going to take. He probably wanted to get away from us anyways,” he says offhandedly, glancing at Barbatos out of the corner of his eye.

Barbatos crosses his arms. “For your information, I had no intention of hiding in the bathroom like a coward.”

—

The now-familiar feeling of the cool library floor greets the side of Barbatos’ face. 

“Wh-” Simeon sputters. “What happened?”

Barbatos makes no move to get up. Maybe if he lies here for long enough, the floor will become comfortable and warm. 

“Barbatos,” Simeon says through gritted teeth. “Did you lie?”

Diavolo wouldn’t have to know anything if he just waits here on the floor. 

“Hey!” Simeon gets to his feet, marching towards Barbatos’ crumpled form. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“No, I’m not doing it on purpose.” Barbatos snaps. “Why would I possibly want to repeat this damned day over and over?”

Simeon sighs heavily, sitting cross-legged on the ground beside him. “What happened?” he asks, controlled calm in his voice. 

“Solomon,” Barbatos replies.

“I thought as much.”

Barbatos squeezes his eyes shut, summoning every ounce of will to swallow his pride. “How do you deal with it?”

Simeon cocks his head curiously, looking down at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t exactly use the same tactics as I did when I met him. He was much less powerful back then, and less… conniving. I’m not sure I have the strength to supervise him every second of every day.”

“Oh, no,” Simeon laughs, earning him a glare from Barbatos. “I wouldn’t recommend constantly looking over his shoulder. I’ve learned that only makes him worse. Try directing his attention elsewhere instead. There’s no stopping a river, only encouraging it to go down a different path.”

Barbatos sighs, and Simeon stands with a groan, tucking his tail behind his leg. He reaches a hand down to Barbatos. “One more time?”

—

Having successfully defused the paper crane situation once more, Simeon strides through the castle halls. Using the pen tucked in his jacket pocket, he ticks off the box labeled ‘Check in on dinner preparations’ proudly. The smell of food had made his stomach rumble, and he decides on a walk through the gardens to keep him distracted. Barbatos should be seen on the castle grounds to keep up the facade, he reasons.

The smell of rare flowers greets his nose, and he tilts his face to the air happily. The gardens never fail to improve his mood on the rare occasions he gets to visit them. He strokes a flower with the side of his finger, pleased that the pollen no longer bothers his skin in this demonic body. 

A rustle sounds from behind him, and his head snaps to the side. A small animal, perhaps? He moves slowly, carefully, making sure each step lands on soft ground to make no sound. His improved vision catches a flash of movement behind the thick foliage, a much larger creature than he had assumed. It stills again after a moment, almost playing the same game as him. He thinks for a moment, then stands again, turning back. If the creature thought he was uninterested, maybe he could get a better look. 

All of a sudden, a massive form springs from the bushes, trying to make its getaway, and- smack- almost instinctually, Simeon’s tail springs out and coils around a limb tightly. With a mighty thud, it crashes to the ground- “OOF!” 

Simeon brings his hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The sight that meets his eyes when he turns around would be comical at any other time: Diavolo, prince of the Devildom, facedown in the dirt, one ankle suspended by the hold of Simeon’s tail.

Simeon stares down at the prince, squirming around on the ground in an attempt to right himself. Slowly, he wills his tail’s grip to loosen, fixing Diavolo with a glare lest he try to escape again. The prince manages to turn himself over and sit upright on the ground, not quite meeting Simeon’s eyes. A trickle of blood flows from his nose where his face met the ground, but as hard as Simeon searches his heart, he can’t come up with a shred of sympathy.

Diavolo’s wet eyes finally look up at him, and Simeon lets out a slow, controlled breath. “So,” he begins, hoping he sounds calm, “would you like to explain to me exactly why you’re out here?” 

Diavolo wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing red across his upper lip. “Well, I was looking down from my window and saw one of the servants struggling to find the herbs they needed for tonight’s meal. With my vast knowledge of the gardens, I decided to come down and help them out.”

Simeon remains impassive, and Diavolo’s cheerful smile falters for a moment. Simeon thinks for a moment, then crouches down to level his gaze with Diavolo’s. “Let’s make a deal, you and I.”

“A deal?” Diavolo narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

Simeon nods. “I don’t take you for a fool. I think you’re very cunning; much more than you let on, to be sure.” Diavolo straightens in pride a bit at that. “So, in light of that, I won’t lie to you. It’s a waste of time for both of us. And in return,” his voice turns sharp, “you won’t lie to me. Does that sound reasonable?”

The prince gives him a cowed smile, but Simeon’s gaze holds steady, holding eye contact until he finally sees that flicker of defeat. “I just thought I could get out for a little bit,” Diavolo admits,  gesturing aimlessly with his hands.

“Oh no, it’s my fault entirely,” Simeon says airily, standing to stretch his hips.

Diavolo stands next to him, towering above him once more. “Your fault?”

“Yes,” Simeon affirms. “I believed you when you said you would go easy on me in Barbatos’ absence.”

Diavolo’s booming laugh rings through the gardens. “Oh, you’re such fun to have around. You can’t blame me for trying, right?”

Simeon only smiles down at him. With surprising accuracy, his tail shoots out and wraps around Diavolo’s wrist, and Simeon starts to tow him towards the castle.

—

Barbatos stands at the kitchen sink, relishing in the rare silence. Both Solomon and Luke had offered to help him wash up after dinner, but he had refused. Even if Luke’s company hadn’t been unwelcome, cleaning up is almost meditative for him. The satisfaction of watching all the grime and food wash away down the drain is something he truly enjoys, and being able to sleep at night with a clean space is a particular point of pride for him.

He wipes down the sink carefully, making sure his rag isn’t wet enough to leave streaks, tosses it in the bin, and washes his hands. He lets out a slow breath, glad to see the kitchen clean again. Cleaning was almost distracting enough for him to forget about the hair constantly in his face, he thinks with a grimace as he pushes it back again. 

His head twitches to the side as he hears footsteps on the stairs. His hearing is much less sensitive now; he should’ve been able to hear movement from the top floor. The steps are too heavy to be Luke, to his dismay. He considers making a run for it, but decides that Simeon’s legs likely won’t carry him far enough.

Oddly, Solomon seems to have no interest in acknowledging Barbatos. From experience, Barbatos guesses that means he’s either planning something dangerous that relies on Barbatos not taking note of him (concerningly likely) or he’s too deep in thought to realize Barbatos is there (unlikely, but he remains hopeful). 

The silence stretches on while Barbatos rummages around for a snack, now a much less relaxing kind of silence. From the other side of the room, Solomon fiddles with something on the counter. Barbatos’ curiosity gets the better of him and he turns to see what it is, and is greeted with the sight of Solomon absentmindedly attempting to pour powdered coffee creamer into  the paper filter, with a small pile of dry grounds in the bottom of his mug. He snorts softly with laughter, startling Solomon, who nearly drops the creamer. 

“Oh, Barbatos! I didn’t realize you were here.”

Barbatos chuckles. “I noticed. Distracted?”

“A bit…” Barbatos waits for an explanation, but none ever comes. Solomon’s eyes start to drift out of focus again, but stop when he finally sees the coffee filter. Barbatos fights back another laugh. Solomon attempts to shake the creamer out of the filter, but eventually gives up and tosses the entire thing in the trash, along with the contents of his mug.

“I’ll do it,” Barbatos waves him aside. “I was thinking about making a mug for myself as well.”

“Really? Thanks,” Solomon says with a tired smile. He pulls out a chair from the table and sits, and Barbatos turns back to the coffee maker. 

A few minutes later, the kitchen is filled with the comforting smell of coffee. Solomon is doodling runic circles on a napkin, and Barbatos sets the powdered creamer back in the cabinet in favor of a bottle of half-and-half from the fridge. He pours two mugs, each with a splash of cream and two scoops of sugar for Solomon’s, and both sip at their drinks silently. The taste is pleasant to Barbatos, caffeine having lost its effect on him decades ago, and he savors the feeling of the warmth reaching down to his stomach. 

As he drinks, and Solomon continues to draw, Barbatos finds a clump of coffee grounds in the bottom of his mug. He frowns, trying to understand how it could’ve gotten there. He takes another tentative sip to uncover the mass. He peers deeper into the mug, squinting… did it move? No, it must’ve been the liquid around it shifting. He sets the mug down and searches for a spoon to lift it out. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots two little blobs reaching over the rim of the mug, and grabs a fork in self-defense. No, they aren’t blobs, he realizes. They form into the shape of two tiny rodent paws, and Barbatos feels every ounce of self-control leave his body.

A yelp leaves his mouth, and he sends the mug to the floor with a crash. It shatters onto the floor, and in the pieces lies a soggy rat formed from coffee grounds. Barbatos throws the fork at it, then immediately regrets the loss of his weapon and scrambles to grab another one. Behind him, Solomon is howling in laughter. Barbatos starts to shriek a curse in Infernal, but a pain behind his eyes cuts him off mid-word, and he settles for

“FUCKING KILL IT YOU USELESS SORCERER!”

Solomon manages to wheeze out a few words between cackles, and the rat de-animates and withers into a long dark blob. Not entirely convinced, Barbatos throws his second fork at it, which clangs off the ground and leaves a splatter of wet grounds on the floor. With the threat vanquished, his rage starts to set in.

“YOU-” he growls, turning towards Solomon.

“You really didn’t think I wasn’t going to take advantage of this, did you?” Solomon chuckles, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come here,” Barbatos seethes. “I knew you couldn’t settle for being so much as polite for a few hours. You could have spent the entire day blowing up things in your lab and I wouldn’t have bothered you even for a moment, but no, some kind of intrinsic neurological flaw drives you to refuse to go ten seconds without plotting something to make me suffer.”

Solomon giggles, still out of breath. “And yet I still got you to let your guard down enough to make it happen.”

—

Upstairs, Luke pulls his pillow tighter around his head. He had known they were going to fight at some point, but did it really have to be when he was supposed to be asleep?

—

Simeon finally finds Barbatos’ room after several failed attempts, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of a comfortable-looking bed. His legs hurt from the innumerable flights of stairs he had climbed up (or down?) at the end of a long day. Still, the pain isn’t quite enough to quell his curiosity about the sight of Barbatos’ bedroom. He had always wondered how the butler lived; his leading two theories were a resplendent set of chambers, maybe influenced by the humans’ Byzantine architecture, every inch laden with intricate detail, not one corner unplanned; or a damp, dark dungeon with the screams of the damned echoing around the room to lull him to sleep. 

It seems his second theory is winning the race by a landslide. The drab stone that makes up the walls of his room isn’t far off from the carved dungeon bricks that Simeon had imagined, only smelling less like mildew and more like fresh eucalyptus. His possessions seem to be spartan, barely anything on the desk, nightstand, or the sink in the bathroom. Even the walls are bare of any decoration. 

Simeon frowns and tugs experimentally on the desk drawer. Locked. Same with the cabinet in the bathroom. Barbatos must have predicted his curiosity hours ago, he thinks with equal parts annoyance and admiration. Satisfied for now, he changes into a pair of loose sweatpants, with a convenient hole cut and hemmed for his tail to move freely. Forgoing a shirt, he slips in between the cool sheets and lets sleep take him. 

—

Exhausted after his defeat at the hands of a vicious sorcerer’s schemes, Barbatos locks the door to Simeon’s room. He coughs in surprise as the overlapping scents of teakwood and magnolia flood his nose. He finds several scent diffusers all around the room and one in the bathroom for good measure, and wonders just how much Simeon must hate the smell of the Devildom. 

He considers a shower, but his own reservations about being in someone else’s body make him grimace at the thought. He runs a soapy washcloth up his arms and around his feet, rinsing them in the tub, then treats his face to a thick coat of whatever floral-scented moisturizer he can find in the bathroom. He still doesn’t feel quite clean, but he tries to push it out of his mind and quickly changes into Simeon’s pajamas: a ratty TSL shirt, in the fashion of fan merchandise from the 1980’s, and cozy flannel pants.

The pale yellow sheets are worn but oddly comforting, and Barbatos pulls the heavy comforter over him, suddenly cold. Sleep takes him much quicker than usual, and it promises to be dreamless.

—

Simeon frowns at the sound of activity from downstairs, burrowing deeper into his blankets. He stubbornly squeezes his eyes shut against any light. For a moment, he thinks he’s won the battle against wakefulness, but a crash from several rooms away destroys his chances of sleep. He pulls the blankets from his face with a groan, despondent at the thought of having to open his eyes. 

He hauls his body up from the bed and pushes his toes into the plush pair of slippers placed carefully by his bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes. That’s odd, he thinks. Does Barbatos also keep a pair of slippers at his bedside? He opens his eyes wider to find his own bedroom, and looks down to see his own rich brown skin on his hands. His mood quickly rising, he springs from his bed and lands in front of his bathroom mirror in a few bounding steps. He smushes his hands into his cheeks, delighted to see his own familiar face in the mirror again.

He throws on the first moderately presentable outfit he can find and jogs down the stairs, refusing to let the mysterious pieces of shattered porcelain on the kitchen floor dampen his mood. “I’ll be back soon!” he calls out, not quite caring who hears him.

—

Barbatos’ eyes slide open with no need for any alarm. He knows it will be exactly the turn of the hour when his feet touch the floor; no input from his groggy mind necessary. The practiced routine is a part of his very mind, and he accomplishes it every day with no deviation except those required by his employer.

He stops in the middle of his bedroom on the way to the bathroom. Brush his teeth, wash his face, take a cold shower: he knows those are his next tasks. But they shouldn’t be, should they? He should still be in that suffocatingly scented room in Purgatory Hall, drowning in the unfamiliar chaos.

He takes a deep breath, taking a short moment to feel the cool relief wash over him. Not too long of a moment, of course. He has things to do. He steps into the bathroom and picks up his toothbrush.

—

Simeon sweeps into the foyer of the Demon Lord’s Castle, all swishing fabric and blinding smiles. “You’re certainly in a good mood,” Barbatos’ slow, smooth voice greets him. 

“What, and you aren’t?”

“I’m relieved to be back in my own body, if that’s what you want me to say.”

Simeon snorts in a laugh. “I guess that’s as good as I’ll get. Did you tell Diavolo?”

Barbatos raises an eyebrow in his direction coldly. “Of course I did. Not that I needed to, mind you. The difference between you and I is palpable even to an utterly ignorant observer. He did, however, ask me to tell you that he wishes to see both of us in his study.” Simeon smiles again, almost delighted to know that the prince was able to predict him so easily. He follows Barbatos' careful feet down the hall with a spring in his step.

Diavolo is scribbling something on a piece of paper as the two enter; Simeon is now sure it’s only for show. “Ah, there you are!” his voice rings out. As if he hadn’t known exactly when they would enter. 

Barbatos bows. “My lord.” 

Diavolo sits forward eagerly, clasping his hands. “So I wonder, Simeon, how exactly all of this curse business affected you? Any lessons learned?”

Simeon narrows his eyes, now much more experienced with these games the prince sets out for him. “Several. Chief among them, the valuable knowledge that no one is immune to the temptations of doing anything other than their assigned duties.”

Diavolo chuckles deeply at that, leaning back in his seat. “And perhaps that the people we scorn the most are, in fact, mirrors of our own soul.” Simeon adds, somewhat softer. Diavolo nods slowly, internalizing the sentence.

“Well put, my friend.” His gaze turns on Barbatos, shining gold meeting brilliant green. “And you? Any profound observations on all of this?”

Barbatos breathes in deeply, pretending to take his time in thought. “Lessons learned, my lord…” he trails off. Simeon and Diavolo hang on his words, waiting expectantly. “I would be telling you the complete and utter truth if I said that I have none.”

[cloudcountry]

hii I saw that requests are open, I was wondering if I could request headcanons for vil demon x angel reader?) where the reader tries to be as tsundere and indifferent as possible so as not to be tempted by the beauty and power of the vil demon~ but fails in the process hehe, sorry if it sounds complicated qwq jsjsjj thanks in advance!

SUMMARY: temptation comes for the best of us. for you, it came in the form of vil schoenheit, a powerful demon of envy.

COMMENTS: ANONNNNN YOUR MIND (EXPLOSION NOISES) IM IN AWE I LOVE WRITING DEMON ANGEL SHIT ITS MY JAMMMMM

originally i was going to make reader neige's guardian angel but i thought the timeline would be weird with what i was trying to do so yk i didnt but if you'd like me to write something like that too i can!!

You’re not mesmerized by his tail, or the way his horns curve above his head like gallant spires, or the way his makeup is always done just right, too look alluring enough to drag you into temptation. It’s all a game to him, he has nothing to lose, but you could very well lose your wings if heaven knew how often the idea of kissing him wormed its way into your thoughts.

He curls his tail around your wrist or waist when talking to you, sometimes even yanking you towards him as his wings flutter softly behind him. They’re scaly, gnarled things—nothing like your soft feathery white wings. He finds the contrast amusing, often joking about touching yours.

There’s been a few instances where they have touched. Neither of you mention it.

Every time a feather falls from your wings, whether it be because of stress or anger, he plucks it from the air and kisses it. The purple smudge he leaves behind does nothing but remind you of his impurities, and you scold him relentlessly for doing something so... so...!

He croons when he gets you alone, murmuring how jealous he is because your wings are so pretty and you’re such a sweet thing and he wishes he was more like you—and if he can’t be you he has to have you. Envious to his core, he takes all that you offer him (even though it isn’t much), eating right out of the palm of your hand.

You never have the time to feel powerful before he snatches the rug out from under your feet.

His envy also makes itself known when other supernatural beings talk to you. It isn’t healthy at all for him to be coveting you so much, especially when you aren’t even his, so why does it make your heart race when he growls low in his throat and steps in front of you? Why do you like it when his wings shoot out from their bases, hiding you from view? Why do you like it when he whisks you away and holds you close, running his fingers through your feathers as his eyes glow purple and small flames fly from the corners of his mouth?

You barely find the strength to pull away, brushing yourself off as if the smell of brimstone and smoke won’t leave.

(That’s because it won’t, if Vil has any say in it. He’ll never tell you but he wants to mark you, to corrupt you, to take you into Hell with him so you can be right by his side. Your time with him is always limited and even though he might love leaving him all alone he hates to see you go.)

You’re salvation for a demon, and you don’t even realize it.

[steviebbboi]

The Avengers: Noisy, Messy, and Yours

Box D3 - Avenger’s Movie Night

A/N: Hi ladiess~ this is my first submission for @steverogersbingo 💖 and starting with "Avengers Movie Night" based off of this poll!

Summary: Civil War AU where everything is fine and our family is still family 🙂Reader takes stock into the peace that is movie night…peace-ish. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader 

Warnings: Established relationship, warm, ambient, and cozy fluff! I MISS THIS LIL FAMILY (what could've been 😭)

“Alright, children - movie night is commencing!” Tony’s verbose tone echoed across the vast space. 

Pillows and chairs were found scattered across the room as folks started to bicker their way to their seats. A glance across the room, there’s Rhodey and Clint arguing over the chair in the back while Wanda sat lotus-posed in the front with Vision shyly placing himself next to her. Peter glancing over at Tony’s audio system and messing around with it. 

Sam just managed to place down 3-large bowls of freshly-made popcorn, according to some of the Avengers’ preferences, that were dived into instantly as they made their way onto the glass table. At the sudden instantaneous mess, Tony flapped his hand around to convey their messiness with a roll of his eyes and a muttering under his breath as he commanded D-3 robot to clean up after the ‘kids’. Thor stuffing his face with popcorn with one hand and the other pawing for the remote control away from Natasha, who was about to krav maga her way to get it from the Asguardian god.

In the kitchen were you preparing the drinks, and also where Bucky was talking to Steve by the countertop– both of them with beers in hand. You’d never get tired of it, you thought to yourself. Seeing the group, these formidable beings and creatures, just settling down for a movie night. You often thought about what the general public would think that you all did on a daily basis and you felt grateful to report that it looked exactly like this.

F.R.I.D.A.Y setting the lighting into a warm, cozy mood while incessant chatter of noise filled the space, despite the call for silence. The soft banter and casual home clothes that everyone was wearing, warm socks, and yoga pants in clear sights. There was nothing rushed about the space, it just was.

“You okay, doll?” A soft, rugged hand placed itself against your lower back like it belonged there. Steve Rogers being the epitome of comfort during times like this – but not without strategy. You knew he’d always wait to be the last one to sit in order to determine which seat suited you best. Or that he’d make sure to bring over extra popcorn if your favorite has run out. Or that he’d snatch the most comforting blanket in the room to bring it over for you to snuggle with since you tend to get cold.

And how he always checked in on your needs before the team would meet together, just like how he was checking in now. With one hand behind you, support you, and provide for you. 

“No, I’m good, Stevie. Let’s sit.” You turned to see his warm and expectant smile as he gently pushed you forward. The warmth from his skin radiating against yours, still supporting you as he grasped fondly on your waist as you carried over the drinks to the group. 

Echoes of, “finally” or “did you get lost or what?” verberated around the room as you both approached. Everyone seemed to just grab items from your hands and you were left with sitting yourself on the couch, a designated spot next to you only meant for Steve (and everyone knew it). 

Tossing your legs over his lap until you were situated against his heat and him with the slope of your figure that seemed to always fit exactly right. His hand softly grazed your calves as he turned to Bucky to deliver one last comment.

Taking another look around the room, it was your noisy, messy family. The Avengers. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A/N2: hope you enjoyed this little drabble fic~ on to writing the next on the poll!

Coming up: Steve time travels!

Main Masterlist

Captain America/Steve Rogers Masterlist

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[domesticgoddess22]

wish upon a cowboy

chapter 3: down bad

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s),praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 3.3k (chapter 3) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist here

A month had passed since the cabin getaway, and you hate to say it, but things between you and Joel have pretty much gone back to normal. No kissing, no sex, just the usual surviving the lands of good ol’ Texas.

Not a word of what transpired that night ever came up in your conversations to the cornfields. 

Not even the morning after when you crawled out from underneath his naked body, quietly lifting the weight of his arm that pinned you to the couch. You slipped outside and washed yourself clean of what he spilled between your legs with the well water. 

By the time you returned to the cabin, Joel was awake and fully clothed with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You ready to go?” he grumbled, his face forming that same hard-lined frown he’s had since the day you met him, the man before you receding into his shell.

The cabin vacation had come to an abrupt end.

Now, you're back to the old grind of survival, tension thick in the air between you two. Each night, you sleep on opposite sides of the camp you’ve put together. It’s been your temporary home for a few weeks now. It’s deep enough into the woods where no one will stumble upon it, but close enough to the city rubble for you to run and do raids.

“Joel, can we stop here?” You ask as the faded red of a once-was Target comes into view.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Joel.”

“How many more places do you need to stop at?” 

“I need pads.”

He rubs the skin between his brows, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Alright, Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Why didn’t ya just say so?”

You watch his muscles tense as he digs the sharp curve of his crowbar into the crevice of the sliding doors. Metal scrapes against metal until there’s an opening that fits your width and you take a step inside. When he follows after you, you tell him that you’d rather do this alone.

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about,” his voice is low, softer.

“Can I just go alone, please?” you groan, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes dart around, refusing to meet his.

“Fuck. Fine… Just… be careful. We don’t need any trouble.”

“Careful is my middle name,” you say, stepping over the door frame and leaving him behind in your little white web of lies. You weren’t going in for pads. In fact, pads were the last thing you needed right now, and careful was definitely not your middle name or even an adjective that describes you.

The truth is, it had been six weeks since your last period, and you were never late–a stark reminder that your night with Joel hadn’t been your imagination.

This morning you felt your stomach curdle at the sight of food, and when Joel had asked if you were alright, you just told him that you had some bad canned tuna the night before.

Stepping into the faded red walls of Target, the ceiling has caved in the center of the store, allowing light to pool in and illuminate the rubble. The cold air stings your cheeks as you stare at the shelves, littered with remnants of another time. 

Please have it please have it please have it.

As much as it terrified you to have an answer, especially one you knew would change your life–lives?--forever, it was better to know now than later. 

You swallow, fingers brushing across the shelf as you pass scattered boxes of pads, vitamins, empty condom boxes, and–there, a box labeled First Response in weathered lettering. 

You snatch the box, disappearing somewhere behind a different shelf, just in case Joel came stomping in to scold you for taking so long.

So you squat and pee on the damn stick right next to an old hot dog machine and a cardboard cutout of some family looking chipper in their new home filled with crap from Target.

And then you wait. And wait.

Wait for the little stick to show you one line so you'd laugh and run back to Joel and pretend it never happened. 

You chew your lip, willing the line to appear, and in the seconds that you wait, there's a fleeting thought in your head of you and Joel and your baby and there's a warm feeling in your chest when the images of your little family flash in your mind. 

Joel's protective nature would make him a perfect father, and you want to scream at your ovaries to shut the fuck up.

That little daydream could never happen because he doesn't love you. It was a one-night thing, and he sure as hell doesn't want a kid, in the apocalypse–with you.

Everything's gonna be alright.

That’s what you tell yourself as you take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes tight and then peeling them open to look at the little device that held your future. Tears well up at the corner of your eyes when you see what the little stick reveals.

Two pink lines.

You’re pregnant.

Somewhere towards the front entrance, Joel is hissing your name and your head jerks up. You shuffle the little stick into the back pocket of your jeans.

“The fuck are you doin’?” He says when he finds you, now standing by an old cash register twiddling your thumbs. “Thought you were gonna grab ‘n go?”

You shrug when he looks at you expectantly. 

“Well? Did ya get what ya needed?” 

“Yes I got what I fuckin’ needed, Joel.” You brush past him, anger fueling each stomp out the door.

You half expect him to scold you again. To use the same irritated tone when he asks what the fuck your problem is, but he doesn't.

He says nothing and lets you stew in silence while the two of you walk to a safe spot for the night, a little clearing in the woods. Joel pitched the tent you found back in Woodcreek. You’ve gotten into the habit of switching shifts so one of you is always on watch, and neither of you is ever in the tent at the same time.

“‘S everythin’ okay?”

“Right as rain. Why?”

“You've been quiet. Thought maybe you were still feelin’ sick or som’.”

I'm pregnant.

“I’m fine,” you say, your tone even and dry.

“Hm.”

The truth sits on your tongue, a heavy weight that rolls around but you can't quite spit it out. Goosebumps decorate your skin at the thought of telling him about the two pink lines–the possibility of him rejecting you for it. The thought of him abandoning you by morning has your stomach doing summersaults.

When did you become so attached to him?

You knew for a while now that you've had a crush on him, and the thought of losing him left you feeling empty, but now that felt juvenile. There was so much more at stake, a baby that needed to somehow survive this cruel world and would have a better chance with Joel as their father than not. 

This realization gives you enough courage to try to tell Joel the truth. “Hey. Maybe we should…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. Are there even the right words for something like this? “I think it’s time we talk about somethin’.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing–look, about what happened between us that night…”

You straighten your spine, cranking your neck up, swallowing back a lump in your throat in anticipation of what Joel is about to say. You weren’t expecting him to take the lead in the conversation, but you shouldn’t be surprised, Joel takes the lead in everything he does.

“I had a lot to drink that night. More ‘n I had in quite some time… so I figured I’d just say uh–” Joel’s hands are on his hips as his eyes bore into the pebbles next to his boots. 

Your heart is pounding like a drum, your hands are clammy, and you’re starting to think you might actually be sick.

Big brown eyes flit to yours and you swear this is the first time he’s fully looked at you since that night. “‘M sorry, darlin’. You’re so young n’ it just wasn’t right what I did–it was a mistake. ”

A mistake.

“Of course…” You feign agreement, hoping that you can somehow conceal the look of disappointment in your expression. Your eyes flit to anything and everything at the campsite that will take your mind off of this horrific moment. 

“It won’t happen again,” he says with booming finality, the final arrow to your bleeding heart.

“Ain’t gotta feel guilty about it, Joel. It’s fine. We can forget it ever even happened.” Eyes cast downward, you awkwardly avoid his gaze.

“Right–okay let’s do it then.”

“Are we gonna still be…?” Your mouth twists into a contorted angle while you chew at your lips, anxiety still settling into your bones.

“I think we make a pretty damn good team–if you’ll still have me.”

You scoff, a playful smirk creeping up across your face. It’s a facade, but you’re going to have to fake it til you make it. “Who else is gonna get me food?” 

“‘S that all I’m good for? Twizzler runs and huntin’ game for you?”

“Ya aren’t much for conversation, but you aren’t terrible company either. In all honesty, though, I wouldn't survive a week out here alone–so you’re good for a lot more than that.”

“You’d make it without me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m bein’ serious, darlin’. You just need a little bit of trainin’ and the right attitude and you’d survive out here just fine” He takes three long strides in your direction until he’s towering over you from where you sit, hand resting on your shoulder. “We’ll start your trainin’ tomorrow mornin’, first thing. Be ready.”

The weight of his hand abandons your shoulder once more, but his warmth still lingers. He heads into the tent, taking the first shift. Usually, Joel only slept a few hours at a time. You’d wake him by eleven and then it’d be your turn to sleep until morning.

“Goodnight,” you say with empty enthusiasm. He grunts in response and then zips the tent shut.

**********

Early morning light peeks through the crack of your tent, illuminating the threads of your blanket from dark purple to a soft shade of lilac. You can tell from the color of the light that it is far too early for you to be awake yet, so you snuggle back into the sleeping bag–which still smells smokey like Joel–and doze off.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” A gruff voice rips you back into reality and your eyes peel open. At the front of the tent, you see Joel, bent at the knees, peering into the opening of the tent. “Today, we’re teachin’ you to hunt.” 

“Five more minutes…”

“No can do, sweetheart.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ stickler!” Mornings were never your cup of tea, there was no good reason to be up before the sun lifted its ass from the horizon. Maybe there was a reason before, but not now.

“What happened to wantin’ to experience school? If you were in school, class would be startin’ soon.”

“Did you know that the world ended?” You sit up, making sure to cover your bosom with the sleeping bag–not that it was anything he hadn’t seen before.

“Not for the whitetails. They’re are out ‘n about in these early mornin’ hours, so now is the perfect time to catch ‘em by surprise.”

“First class of the day: huntin’.”

“Is that part of a normal university schedule or are you just pullin’ this outta your ass?”

“Pullin’ it outta my ass.” 

“Then you better make me a delicious school lunch.”

Joel bellows into a roaring laugh and your heart flutters at the sound.

“That funny?” 

“More ‘n you know. Ain’t no school lunch that was delicious, least not where we’re from.”

“Huh, you’d think they’d feed the kids the good stuff.” The more you hear about life from before, the more it feels like a distant alien planet where people did odd things.

“Get your stuff on ‘n let’s go. Next class’l be math.”

“Math?!”

“Come’on.” He zips the tent shut and leaves you to change.

After you slip on your cargo pants, you tug on your boots, mumbling under your breath as you fumble to tie the laces. From inside the tent, you still converse with Joel. “I’m startin’ to sound like you old man, no wonder you’re so cranky. You don’t even get any sleep!” 

“Yeah, I’m busy huntin’ food while the princess sleeps,” he says from a distance.

“And I thank you for it every day, Joel.” 

It was playful bickering, really, and there was a tugging feeling inside your chest that made you feel like the two of you were an old married couple.

“Just want you to be able to take care of yourself if ya ever have to.” 

Something about that doesn’t sit right with you as you're bent at the knee, tying the knot on your left shoe, holding the once-smooth lace between your fingers, frozen in thought for a beat of time before you give it one final tug. 

The opening of the tent feels cool against your palm as you enter the camp, sticks crunching beneath your feet as you make your way to Joel, his back is to you, broad shoulders tense underneath the green flannel of his shirt. He’s strapped with his rifle and working to fill a bag up with ammo when he notices you.

“What are we bringin’?” You’re at his side now, getting yourself familiar with the gear he’s packing for the hunt when he turns to you. 

The silent response has you spin to face him, hand on your hip as you gesture for him to respond. 

His eyes are fixed on yours, left hand flexing as he looks at you expectantly. 

“What?” You mutter, still very ripe with early morning grouchiness.

And then he says cooly, “You gonna wear a shirt, darlin’?”

A shirt. You forgot to put on a damn shirt.

You swallow, cheeks probably stained red as your heart pounds violently from the embarrassment of it all.

He probably thinks you’re trying to seduce him by showing up in a frilly pink bra that barely holds the weight of your breasts–not by choice but more so thanks to lack of availability. Your last bra had the straps snap. A push-up bra was about all you could find on your recent raids and one that was about one size too small at that.

Play it cool.

“I was gettin’ to it,” you say, real snippy and sharp. “Wanted to see what all the noise with all your packin’.” 

“Same noise I’ve been makin’ every morning. Loadin’ my bag with ammo.” Joel’s eyes are firmly locked onto yours and not on your nearly bare chest. Either his behavior is out of respect or disinterest, you can’t really say.

Your mom once told you that men typically get bored once they��ve laid with you.

“Very good. I’ll finish gettin’ ready then.” You wiggle your brows and then dip back into the tent, grabbing a plain white T from your humble selection of three shirts. The mundane task of pulling the fabric over your head helps calm your nerves.

About twenty minutes deeper into the woods, Joel finally speaks. “You should try coffee. Might help ya in the mornin’.”

“Hmm, maybe. Never tried it before.”

“That’s another thing we gotta add to the list.”

“Not the crap you drink, I meant real coffee from a real coffee shop.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

“We really don't need to do the whole list thing–” you begin before Joel hushes you, the elbow of his arm is pressed to your breast to stop your movement. You swallow, your eyes trailing on the veins of his thick arms and then he points to something in the distance. 

If you squint hard enough, you can see a deer up ahead, golden coat stark and shimmering against the green landscape of the clearing. 

Joel loads the chamber and then rests his trusty .308 in your arms. You’re shocked by how heavy it is, having seen Joel effortlessly sling it over his shoulder for weeks. It’s been his prized possession since he found it, because it means the two of you can eat something more than just canned goods.

Your face starts to feel clammy and the grip feels slippery in your now sweaty palm.

“No, I can’t do this–really.”

“Yes, you can, darlin’.” His voice warm against your ear and you feel his chest against your back as he guides your arms to hold the gun.

“Right hand on the grip, left on the handgrip. Let her butt rest steady against your shoulder. Does it feel steady?”

“Yeah.”

“Press your cheek to the stock and aim down your sight. Aim right above the shoulder, don’t miss ‘n hit the stomach otherwise, she’ll bleed out. You want to get her in one shot and put ‘er out of ‘er misery.”

“Wait what? You’re telling me I can’t miss?”

“You’ll be fine,” his tone is nonchalant.

“I can’t do this…”

“Just aim your sight.”

His calloused hand steadies your shaky hold on the handgrip, tilting the gun up slightly as he urges you to check your sight. You do, and when you land right on the spot he gently removes his grip on you and tells you to breathe and squeeze the trigger.

With hesitance, you obey, swallowing hard before you hook your finger on the trigger and pull. Palms still slippery with sweat, you feel the gun shift just a hair to the right the very second before the bullet launches. 

The problem is that you forgot to breathe. 

“Shit! I missed!”

“Nah, you didn’t.” Joel leaps up, bolting through the trees and into the clearing. You dart after him, but his long legs and ferocious stamina take him to the fallen deer before you.

When you reach your kill, you realize very quickly based on the heaving chest and labored breathing that she was still very much alive.

Tears water your eyes and cascade down your face at the image of another being suffering because of something you did. It was one thing to hunt for the sake of eating, it was another to hunt poorly and leave the animal to suffer unnecessarily. How can you live with yourself?

“W-What do we do?”

“Close your eyes,” Joel reaches for the handgun tucked into his belt and then the blaring noise of a gunshot leaves your ears ringing. Your heart is pounding like a drum, your stomach swinging, and you feel the blood rush out of your face in a matter of seconds. 

“I told you to close your eyes.” His voice is muffled and there’s an odd sense that you, and him, and the whole world is deep underwater, and for some reason it makes you want to–

Vomit. Violently. 

Your fingers are tangled in the grass beneath your palms, yanking on the green strands to stay balanced on planet Earth. Everything is spinning so you heave, and heave until you can’t anymore. 

“Baby…”

The next thing you know, you’re in Joel’s arms, head pressed to his chest. You sway to the rhythm of his footsteps as he carries you through the trees and back to camp. He lays you down in the tent and for a brief moment of consciousness, you catch him watching you, his eyes piercing into your soul as he appears deep in thought. And then he leaves, zipping up the tent behind him, his footsteps fading off somewhere into the trees as you drift back to sleep.

prev / next

[calebsanchor]

Summary: It’s a rare day for both you and the Colonel. You have off! No work! Which means quality time spent together playing with your new LPS

CW: Fluff, playing LPS together, kidnapping roleplay, GN! Reader, various pet names used, the reader is kind of childish, lowkey neurodivergent reader

Caleb is lounging on the couch, using his E-reader to search up some new possible recipe combinations when the doorbell rings. Curious, he gets up to answer it.

Upon opening the door he’s greeted with a middle-aged man holding a brown box under his arm, clipboard in hand. He greets the man before signing for the package, closing the door, and bringing the box over to the coffee table. As soon as he sets it down he hears the pitter-patter of excited feet followed by the familiar sound of your voice.

“Caleb! Did my package come?!” You ask hopefully, hurrying over to where he’s standing.

“Uh, yeah.” He barely has time to get the words out before you’re dropping to your knees, pulling the box onto the floor before eagerly beginning to claw at it.

“Woah slow down! What’s the rush pipsqueak?” Quirking a brow, he kneels beside you in order to assist you in opening the package.

“My Littlest Pet Shops came in! I’ve been waiting for like a week!” You exclaim, pulling your hands back so Caleb can help. At your words, Caleb lets out a disbelieving yet fond chuckle. Of course, he should’ve guessed.

“Oh yeah? How many did ya get?”

As soon as the question leaves his mouth he finally manages to open the box, revealing at least 50 different LPS. Eyes widening, he lets out a simple “oh.”

You’re quick to snatch the box from him, squealing with delight as you begin to dig through it.

“Oh my gosh, Caleb look! Look how many there are!”

Your eyes practically light up, full of childlike excitement. It makes him smile.

“I see that, how much did this cost?”

As much as Caleb loves being supportive, he also knows that sometimes you tend to… impulse spend. You always have. He’s tried to help you but at the end of the day you’re an adult with adult money, sometimes you’re gonna buy things like… this.

“Only like a hundred bucks! Can you believe it?!”

Oh wow. Well… at least you’re happy.

“That’s…?”

“Such a good deal right?! When I went online there were so many people selling, like, five of them for thirty bucks! Some are even up to a hundred each! But I got a pack of sixty-five from an ex-collector! I got so lucky!” You ramble.

“That’s great honey, but what made you want to get this?” He asked, picking up one of the toys. Caleb inspects it, taking note of the logo on the bottom of it as well as all the little details painted on it.

“I don’t know, I just really regret giving mine away, and so when I saw them I knew I had to get them.” You explain, reminiscing on your childhood spent playing with the tiny plastic figures. Before Caleb can respond you continue, perking up and shooting him a hopeful expression.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

“…”

“…?”

A sigh.

“…sure, sweetie. I’ll play with you.”

Not wasting a second, you pick out your favorite lps from the group along with a rugged, mean-looking bulldog. Caleb grabs a Rough Collie with orangish-brown fur. Upon seeing his choice you smile. “Oh my gosh, that’s literally you!” You tease, taking it from his hand and holding it up beside his face as if comparing the two. Caleb only rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away before taking his lps back. “A striking resemblance, I’m sure…” he playfully remarks.

A moment later you’re lying on your stomach, the hardwood floor beneath you making it easy to stand your toy up.

“Okay! What should we play? Oh, I know! How about we’re kidnapped by this scary-looking dog and we have to escape?” You’re quick to suggest, picking up the bulldog and giving it a little shake. Laughing, Caleb scoots his lps closer to yours and crosses his legs beneath him.

“Alrighty then.”

Within seconds a serious look takes over his face. It’s clear he’s completely focused and in character.

“Where… where are we?” He asks in a high-pitched voice, twisting his dog’s head a bit in order to resemble confusion. Immediately you burst out into laughter, caught off guard by how goofy it is to see him do such a thing. Caleb pouts, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment as he scolds you.

“Hey–! You’re the one who suggested it!”

Wiping away a stray tear, you let out the last of your giggles before shaking your head.

“I know! I know I’m sorry… whew, okay. I’m ready.” Clearing your throat, Caleb takes that as his cue to start again.

“Where are we?”

“I… I don’t know, but it’s so dark and I can’t move! Ughn-!” You groan, lying your lps on its side before making it squirm. In your imagination you’re picturing it with its hands and feet duct taped together, both it and Caleb’s trapped in some dingy basement.

Caleb is quick to pick up where you left off, the roleplay flowing easily Between you two.

“I can’t move either! The last thing I remember is us playing outside when that car drove by…” he then lets out a small gasp. “Oh my gosh, I think we got… kidnapped!”

You have to bite your lip in order to hold back a giggle at the cringy-ness of the situation, needing to stay in character.

“Oh no! Caleb, w-what do we do?!

It’s almost as if this is how it would play out in real life, especially given the look of devotion and determination on Caleb’s face as he responds, making his lps crawl closer to yours in order for them to nuzzle against one another.

“Don’t worry pipsqueak, I’ll get us out of this. Everything will be alright…”

[dutifullylazybread]

CYOA - The Warp And Weft of Our Fates - A BG3 Choose Your Own Adventure - Part #3

(Thank you for bearing with me as I drafted this part! I'm hoping to release these in much quicker order from this point on!)

Per the previous poll--After reading through the unencrypted portion of your contact's message, you learned that the people who have gone missing, prior to disappearing, claimed that they were being followed by strange beings.

You lifted your hands away from Rolan’s shoulder, the river-sweet scent of healing magic dissipating and the chilled air warming again.

“Does that feel any better?” you asked as you rounded the couch and sat down beside him.

The set of Rolan’s jaw hardened. He shook his head.

Cal and Lia watched from the other couch, worry etched into their features and marking their movements—you hadn’t realized that Cal would bounce his leg when he was unnerved, and Lia would cross her arms over her chest and glance every which way, as if searching for the source of her discomfort.

“Well,” you said, “We’ll just have to keep track of how quickly that progresses.”

Rolan pulled his tunic over his head, sighing softly.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Cal whispered. Try as he may to not appear on edge, his shoulders were raised and his spine was taut with tension.

“Could you relax?” Lia hissed. She stood and began to pace a tight trail confined to the area immediately behind the sofa.

“I’m trying.” He busied his hands with his tea, but he was so unnerved that his cup rattled on its saucer. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“It’ll be all right, Cal,” Rolan said, his voice barely rising above a murmur.

Cal abruptly set his teacup down and reached for his dinner plate, grabbed up his bread roll, and ripped it to crumbs in a matter of seconds.

Without looking at you, Rolan muttered under his breath, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He made a show of picking up a book from the side table and opening it with a flourish.

You hoped so too—you had asked the three of them to take a gamble. A risky one.

Your contact’s message claimed that, in the days leading up to their disappearances, the individuals who went missing were trailed by strange beings.

And you recalled how Rolan seemed to go completely still when he heard that rustling in stable hayloft. You had asked him if he thought it was a rat... but one look at his face confirmed it all.

Rolan was being followed too.

He’d been willing to try anything if it meant getting answers.

So now it was a matter of waiting and anticipating this stranger’s arrival.

The night wore on. Cal tore through another three bread rolls, combining their shape into a mole hill that, when he shifted, was rapidly spilled over onto the floor. Lia very likely had worn a tread into the rug, and try as he may to look unconcerned, Rolan had spent the last half hour staring at the same page.

They were all on edge, coiled up like springs and ready to burst into action.

And then, from the shadows pooling just beyond the hearth fire’s reach, came a cough.

Cal and Lia snatched up their weapons—

—only for Rolan to cut a ripple through the darkness with one well-placed thunderwave.

Were it not for the meaty thud of a body colliding with the wall, you might have worried that the Rolan had misplaced his attack.

Yet, as if torn from a shroud, a limp, winged creature slipped out of the pooling dark and slumped to the floor, releasing a long, drawn out groan.

Were you to guess, this being was no taller than a toppled barstool. And, the longer you looked upon its form, the more you thought of a particular pixie that you’d met in the Shadow Cursed Lands…

“And who might you be?” you asked.

“Fuck you,” the pixie snarled as he rolled onto his back. “This place is so fucking dusty that I couldn’t help but—hey! Those are mine!” He made a grab for his bow and quiver, but Lia stepped too quickly out of reach. “How dare you!”

“Charming,” Rolan said, his tone flat. “Care to tell me why, exactly, you’re following me?”

The pixie narrowed his eyes. “You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, tiefling. But you already knew that. They figured you were too far up your own arse to even notice me.” He flicked his gaze over to Lia—she held one of the arrows, running a finger through its fletching and turning it this way and that. “I could have made your dear ones forget you with a prick from one of those,” he said with a sneer. “It would have been easy.”

From your periphery, you noted how Lia carefully tucked the arrow back into its quiver and held it at a comfortable arm's length from her body.

The room seemed a touch chillier, as if everyone present realized how, had your gambit failed, Rolan would have been cleanly wiped from everyone’s memories.

It made you nauseous to consider.

You plucked the pixie up by the back of his tunic, though there wasn’t much point—he seemed perfectly content to sit there and spit profanities at the lot of you.

“Are you working for Needle?” you asked.

The creature snorted. “He likes to think we’re at his beck and call. We’re fine with letting him.”

You and Rolan exchanged a look. “And what about the people you’ve captured? Where have you taken them?”

The pixie listed his head to the side. “Over hill and dell, across the river and down the well.”

“He’s talking nonsense,” Rolan said.

“Am I?”

You had heard claims of how the fae couldn’t lie, so instead they spoke in half-truths and riddles, but you didn’t know how much stock to put in those tales.

“Tell me,” you began, “What will we find in the Gazette’s basement?”

And at that, the pixie broke into a face-splitting grin. “A door, a way, a path and a destination, and maybe, just maybe, the missing and the changed. I’d hurry though—or maybe I’d go slow. Time passes differently, but people change all the same. Trees take root. Feathers break skin. Beasts emerge from their dens. Just look at his shoulder.”

The four of you stood about the fae, now with more questions than answers.

So you ventured one, final ask, because as things stood now, all roads seemed to lead to the basement. "Whatever is down in the basement--would it hurt us?"

The pixie listed his head to the side. "In a heartbeat."

"But how do we--"

With a twist and a snap of his fingers, the winged fellow disappeared.

"What a waste," Rolan muttered.

"Any information is good information."

With a snort, he said, "Clearly. Especially now that we have more questions than answers!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to get into the basement."

"So why don't we divide and gather?" Cal suggested. "Rolan, you can stay here and research--"

"Research, what, Cal?"

"We have clues," you said. "The arrows? Your transformation? The Baldur's Mouth mentioned that the journalists are writing differently? Maybe that could be influenced by the fae?"

Rolan mulled it over. "Fine."

"I'll scope the area outside of the Gazette," Lia said. "Maybe I can find a way in? Who knows, maybe I can find something that looks, I don't know, altered by magic?"

Rolan bristled at the idea, but didn't argue.

Cal considered. "Tav, could you get me information on the people who went missing? Maybe I can go talk to people?"

You nod. "Of course. We should move quickly though. Rolan, if you've been tracked for a few days already now--"

"You and I will break into the basement tomorrow," he interrupted. "Cal and Lia--"

"We're coming along. End of discussion," Lia snapped.

There was going to be plenty of arguing over that, you realized. For the time being though, maybe you could lend one of the siblings a hand?

You and Rolan could get through more information if you worked together, and you could protect him if another pixie appeared.

Conversely, you could help Lia scope out Baldur's Mouth Headquarters and see what you could find together.

It wouldn't hurt to accompany Cal either. While he spoke to the families and friends connected to those who went missing, you could take advantage of Cal holding their attention and look through the missing's personal effects?

(The following entry will have two parts--one where you spend time helping the sibling of choice, and the other portion will detail entering the basement.)

[mrsportgas]

The Neighbor. Chapter 2

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

TAG LIST: @buggsclownie @commanderfreethatdust

"I'd rather freeze," I whispered to myself.

"Are you coming or not?" Shanks repeated as he approached the porch of his house.

"I'm not going into a stranger's house, thanks."

"You're friends with Luffy, right? Tell him you're at my place, and tell your friend too. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a stranger. I wasn’t going to do anything weird to you."

"That's what you say." The truth was, the cold I felt was unbearable. I figured if I told Nami or even Luffy and something happened, at least they’d know where I was. "Fine, but as soon as Nami arrives, I'm leaving."

Shanks left the bags at his door and walked over to where I stood, shielding myself with the umbrella. "Shall we?" He started walking. I had to jog a little to catch up and fit under the umbrella. As we passed by his car, I noticed it was the same Range Rover that had splashed me earlier.

"Hey! You were the one who drove through a puddle and soaked me!" I said, pointing at my drenched clothes. Shanks scanned me from head to toe with his eyes, licking his lips as he did. Realizing it, I felt so embarrassed. Was he checking me out? At that moment, I couldn't tell if it disgusted me or if I liked it.

I snatched the umbrella from his hands and ran to his front door. "Open up, I'm freezing to death, you freak."

Shanks hurried to the door, running his hand through his wet hair. Damn, he might be older, but he looked amazing. He quickly opened the door, holding it for me to pass.

"Don't look at my butt," I said curtly.

Shanks burst into laughter. "Do you ever relax? What do you think I am, some pervert? A kid like your little friends?"

I entered the house quickly, and honestly, everything was perfectly decorated. Every piece of furniture, every painting, was meticulously placed, and it was all beautiful. There were paintings, statues, and various trinkets from around the world, along with elegant rugs, sofas, and tables.

"Do you like it?" Shanks asked with a smirk as he leaned, arms crossed, against one of the tables.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not as easily impressed as your other friends."

Shanks laughed out loud. "Come on, you'd better take a shower before you soak all the rugs in the house."

"A towel will do."

Shanks motioned for me to follow him to the bathroom. We went upstairs to a huge room with an even bigger bed, and behind one door, the bathroom. "There’s the shower and towels. Do whatever you want."

The bathroom was enormous, with a large shower and a jacuzzi. Clearly, the man had money, unlike our rented house where the faucet barely worked.

Once inside, I locked the door. I didn’t want that pervert opening it or trying anything. I took off my wet clothes, trying to spread them out as much as possible on a radiator on the wall. I took out my phone again to see if anyone had messaged me, but there was nothing. I called Robin, and finally, it started ringing.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Robin answered on the other side of the line.

"Are you with Nami? I locked myself out and can't get in," I replied, hoping Nami was there.

"HEY Y/N!!! COME HERE NOW!!!" I heard Luffy shouting in the background.

"I don’t have my keys, and my clothes are soaked. I need to wait for Nami to get home. Luffy, I’m at your friend’s place."

"Okay, Y/N, I’ll try to contact Nami, or if she comes here, I’ll tell her to bring you the keys," Robin replied.

"HUH? What friend?" Luffy could be heard asking in the background.

"Shanks."

"That’s awesome! Have fun!!! I didn’t know you two were hanging out!" Luffy responded without thinking.

"Luffy, he's just my neighbor, that's all," I said, knowing he wouldn't understand the situation and would keep thinking there was something going on with Shanks. "Robin, we'll talk later. I'm fine. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out. Call me if anything happens."

We hung up. I grabbed a towel and got into the shower, cranking the water up to boiling. I really needed it; my body warmed up almost immediately. Shanks’ smile when he looked at me came back to my mind, and I found myself daydreaming about his body and that smile.

Someone knocked on the door. "I left some clothes on the bed. I imagine you’ll want to change; I doubt you can wear your own," Shanks said from the other side of the door.

"Thanks," I replied, unsure of what else to say and feeling embarrassed by my recent fantasies.

I finished showering and wrapped the towel around myself, slowly opening the door just in case he’d decided to wait for me in the room. But no, even the bedroom door was now closed. I quickly grabbed the clothes Shanks had left—a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and some slippers—and took them back to the bathroom to change, feeling secure knowing the door had a lock. When I was ready and mentally prepared, I checked my phone again, but still no word from Nami.

I hesitantly went downstairs. Shanks was in the kitchen, leaning on a high table while looking at his phone.

"Want something to drink? Are you hungry?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"I’m fine, thanks," I replied, feeling a bit awkward, rubbing my arms to warm up a little more. "My name’s Y/N, by the way."

Shanks lifted his head and walked out of the room, returning with a blanket. "Here… Y/N," he said with a smile on his face again.

He placed the blanket over my shoulders, brushing my body lightly with his hands. I shivered, feeling his warm touch on my skin, and a part of me wished that moment would never end.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this city?"

"My Ph.D., and you?"

"I work as a CEO for a multinational," he responded cheerfully.

"I see…"

"You know, I grew up with nothing, so when I realized I could use my brain, I worked hard to get all this so I’d never go hungry again, nor would my parents, although now it’s just me."

"Wow… I’m really sorry."

"Thanks, but I’m fine. As you’ve probably noticed, I spend my time traveling the world and working now and then, although I’ll be stuck here for quite a while," he added.

I responded with a kind of nervous laugh.

"What's your PhD about? What do you want to do with it?" he asked as he sat next to me at the high kitchen table.

We spent quite a while talking about my PhD, university, and our mutual friendship with Luffy. It turned out we had much more in common than we initially thought. So much so that I lost track of time.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering dinner," Shanks said suddenly, moving a bit closer.

"Actually, I am hungry, but I was supposed to meet my friends for dinner. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Well, I'm going to order something, and if you have time, you can have some. If not, no big deal." A big smile appeared on his lips again, making me blush. "What do you like?"

"Order whatever you like."

"Do you like sushi? Check this place out—they just opened. Let’s try it."

"Yeah! Luffy mentioned it yesterday, but they say it's the most expensive place in the city. I'll pay you half."

"You're at my place, you're not paying anything," he laughed.

"Then order something cheaper."

"I don’t care about the money. I’ll get this; it looks good." Shanks started picking out all kinds of sushi, condiments, and appetizers.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Nami finally calling.

"Y/N!!! I stayed late at university, and then my phone died, I'm so sorry! I just talked to Robin and charged my phone. I'm on my way now. Are you okay?"

"Nami! Yes, I’m fine, I’m at the neighbor's place. Call me when you get here."

"I just ordered everything. Consider it an apology for splashing you with the car," Shanks said with a playful grin. "If you want, sit by the fireplace so you can warm up while you wait for your friend."

We both got up and headed to the sofa. I sat on the end closest to the fireplace, and to my surprise, Shanks sat in the middle. Though I was feeling more and more comfortable, I had to admit that I was starting to enjoy his company.

After a while, the doorbell rang, and we both assumed it was the delivery. Shanks stood up and opened the door.

"Hey, old man, I hope you didn’t do anything to my friend," Nami said, walking right in without caring if she was invited or not.

"Your friend’s just fine, don’t worry," Shanks replied, surprised by her boldness.

"Nami! Let’s go home," I called from the sofa.

"So, it’s true you’re doing okay," Nami teased me, trying to get a reaction.

I got up, folding the blanket, and headed toward the door.

"I know we ordered food," I said, looking at Shanks.

"Don’t worry, you had plans with your friends first."

I smiled slightly, "See you around."

I followed Nami out the door, and we quickly headed back to our place, going straight up to my room. Nami closed the curtains quickly. "Tell me everything."

"Nami, nothing happened. He was just being nice."

"Y/N, you’re wearing his clothes…"

"Oh my god! My clothes… I left them in his bathroom…" We both burst into laughter. I recounted my little adventure as we laughed.

"So, you like him, huh?"

"Nami… He’s just our neighbor, and he’s nice, that’s all," I said, trying to brush off Nami’s mischievous grin. "I should go get my clothes and return his."

"Okay, so I shouldn't wait for you to go back?" Nami asked with a little nudge to stop teasing me.

"You can go ahead if you want, I'll go later."

The truth was, I felt bad since he had ordered dinner for the two of us. And honestly, I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to keep talking to him. So, I changed my clothes and headed back to his door, ringing the bell. "I brought your clothes," I said as soon as he opened the door, hoping he’d ask me to come in.

"Thanks, that was fast," Shanks replied.

Seeing that he hadn’t picked up on my hint, I tried again. "Has the food arrived? I’m hungry."

"Aren't you supposed to have dinner with your friends?" But seeing that I wasn’t making any move to leave, he added, "Do you want to come in?"

Shanks stepped aside, leaving the door open for me to enter. I felt a small sense of relief as I crossed the threshold, returning to the warmth of his home. It was strange how such a short time had been enough for me to feel more comfortable around him, although there was still something about his demeanor that kept me on my toes.

He led me back to the living room, where a low table was now set up with all sorts of sushi, colorful rolls, and some dishes I didn’t even recognize. There were several bottles of sake and tea, and the fireplace was still glowing, casting a warm and cozy light around the room.

"Sake?" Shanks asked, lifting one of the bottles and pouring into two small cups without waiting for my answer.

"Just a little," I replied, taking a seat on the sofa while he sat down beside me, this time closer than before but not uncomfortably so.

I tried my first bite of sushi, and it was delicious. Luffy was right about the food, as always. Shanks watched my reaction with a satisfied smile.

"Good, right?" he asked, sounding confident.

"It’s not bad," I said, trying to sound indifferent, though I knew my expression gave me away. I couldn’t help but smile.

We spent the next few minutes chatting about trivial things: the food, Luffy’s adventures, and our lives before ending up in this city. Shanks spoke with such ease that, for a moment, I forgot about the age difference between us or the fact that, until a few hours ago, I barely knew him.

When we finished eating, he offered me more sake. I hesitated at first but accepted a second cup. I could feel the warmth of the alcohol starting to relax me, and little by little, my guard came down.

"You know, you’re different from what I imagined when I first saw you," Shanks said as he leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the fire in the fireplace.

"Oh yeah? What did you think?" I asked, curious.

"Well, when I soaked you with my car, I thought you’d hate me. Then, when you resisted coming into my house, I knew you had a lot of character. But you’re more… interesting than I expected. You have more layers, you know?"

"Layers?" I laughed at his choice of words. "Like an onion?"

"Something like that," he replied with a smile. "But seriously, I’m intrigued by what you do. The effort you put into your PhD, the passion you have for your studies… It's refreshing to meet someone with such clear goals."

His gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, the atmosphere filled with a tension I didn’t know how to interpret. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I wasn’t expecting it either. I couldn’t help but blush.

“I’m just trying to do the best I can,” I replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from myself. “And you? You must have had to work incredibly hard to get where you are.”

Shanks set the sake glass on the table and got comfortable, now looking at me directly.

“Yeah, but I’ve also been lucky. I think in life, you have to be in the right place at the right time… and know how to seize opportunities when they come.”

I felt the weight of his gaze, making the air feel thicker. We were sitting closer now, and the spark in his eyes wasn’t something I could easily ignore.

“And what do you plan to do now that you’re here for a while?” I asked, trying to break the silence that had formed between us.

“Right now?” he asked with a small smile, as if he knew what I was trying to do. “I suppose I’ll take the time to enjoy the company… and see what comes up.”

I couldn’t help but notice the hint in his voice. I bit my lip, feeling the atmosphere fill again with that strange mix of attraction and hesitation.

Suddenly, the sound of my phone vibrating on the table broke the tension. It was Nami.

“Excuse me,” I murmured as I picked up the phone and stood to answer it. Looking at the screen, I saw a message:

Nami: “Are you coming in the end? Everything okay?”

I looked at Shanks, who was still watching me with that same smile on his lips, then back at Nami’s message. I hesitated for a moment, then typed my response.

Me: “I’m fine, don’t worry. I think I’ll stay here.”

I put my phone away and turned back to Shanks, who had now also stood up.

“Everything okay with Nami?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I told her I’d stay a bit longer. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he replied as he slowly approached, his eyes still locked on mine. “In fact, I’m glad you decided to stay.”

I felt a slight shiver run through me, but this time it wasn’t just from the cold.

Shanks was slowly getting closer. I could feel his presence filling the space around me as his gaze remained fixed on mine. The warmth of the fireplace still filled the room, but it wasn’t the only thing making my senses sharper.

Without a word, Shanks sat down next to me on the couch, closer than he had been before. His fingers brushed against my leg with a softness that surprised me. It wasn’t intrusive, but the warmth of his hand on my bare thigh, right where my sweatpants left the skin exposed, made me hold my breath. I glanced down, seeing his hand moving slowly as he traced soft circles with his fingers.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, his voice low and deep, filled with a sweetness I hadn’t expected.

“Yes…” I replied in a murmur, my body reacting faster than my mind could process. His hand moved up slightly, now caressing my arm with the same care he had shown on my leg. His touch was gentle, almost as if testing the limits.

The contact was disconcerting but also exciting. My thoughts tangled between the sensation of his fingers on my skin and the uncertainty of what would come next.

I could feel the tension building in the air, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I bit my lip, trying to organize my thoughts, but the moment felt as if it were about to burst in any direction.

Just when it seemed everything was about to overflow, Shanks slowly withdrew his hand, giving me space and a smile full of intention. “It’s late now. Shall I walk you home?”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret his words, but I nodded. “Yes, that would be best. Thanks for dinner and for letting me stay here a while.” I stood up, feeling the warmth of the fireplace and the touch of his hands still lingering on my skin.

Shanks grabbed the jacket he had left on a chair and offered it to me. “It’s cold outside. I don’t want you getting wet again.” I put it on, grateful for the gesture. We walked together to the door, and with a subtle motion, Shanks opened and held it for me to pass through.

The night air was cold, but less biting than it had been earlier. We walked in silence the few meters separating our houses. When we reached my door, Shanks stopped and looked me directly in the eyes.

“It’s been a good night, Y/N. I’m glad you came.”

“Yes, it was… interesting.” I smiled shyly. Though the air was still charged, the proximity to my door made me feel a bit safer.

“Goodnight, Shanks.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

I watched as he turned and crossed the street back to his house. When his door closed behind him, I sighed and opened mine, climbing the stairs to my room, my mind still swirling from the events of the night.

The next morning dawned fresh and quiet, and to my relief, I didn’t have any academic commitments. Nami, Robin, and I had planned to go out that night. A new nightclub had opened in town, and we had decided it was the perfect occasion to dance and forget about the hectic week we’d had.

Around nine at night, we gathered at the apartment. Nami, as always, looked stunning in a tight dress that fit her perfectly. Robin had opted for something more casual but equally elegant. I, for my part, had chosen a fairly sexy but flattering dress, not wanting to go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Robin asked as she touched up her makeup in front of the mirror.

“Yes, let’s go. I need a couple of drinks to relax,” I responded, still thinking about what had happened the night before with Shanks. I hadn’t shared all the details, just mentioned that I’d had dinner at his place, but Nami kept making playful comments whenever she had the chance.

We walked together to the nightclub, which was already packed. The neon lights and the music pulsed through the air, making the floor vibrate beneath our feet. We entered, and soon we were lost in the crowd. As we danced and laughed, I began to relax. The rhythm of the music made me forget, for moments, the nervousness I had felt since the night before.

Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure at the bar. Shanks. He was surrounded by a group of friends, all laughing and drinking, clearly enjoying the night. He was wearing a tight black shirt that highlighted his physique, and his red hair was slightly messy, giving him a carefree, seductive look. I froze.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked, noticing my reaction.

“Nothing, it’s just… Shanks is here,” I replied, discreetly pointing toward the bar.

Nami turned and saw him. “That’s Shanks? Wow, I didn’t expect to see him here,” she said, smiling mischievously.

“Are you going to say hi?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I don’t know… I don’t want him to think I’m following him or something,” I replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Let’s go to the bar anyway, I need a drink,” Nami said, already pulling us by the hands toward where Shanks was.

As we approached, Shanks looked up and saw me. A wide smile spread across his face, and he stepped away from his group of friends to come closer.

“Y/N, what a surprise to see you here,” he said, his voice rising above the music.

“Hi,” I responded with a nervous smile. “We came out to have some fun.”

“Do you want a drink? My friends and I have already ordered a bit of everything. Help yourselves, girls,” he said, also addressing Robin and Nami.

“Yes, sure, why not?” I replied, feeling my nerves intensify. Shanks offered me a drink and gestured for me to join him in a quieter area.

While Robin and Nami stayed chatting with the rest of the group, Shanks and I found a corner where the noise of the nightclub wasn’t as overwhelming. We sat on a couch, our legs brushing accidentally.

“I thought about you today,” Shanks said suddenly, looking at me intently.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“I felt like our evening was cut short. I was tired, but I wanted more. How about another dinner? What do you say?” he asked, his tone serious but filled with a slight provocation.

I stared at him, feeling that same tension from the night before returning all at once.

“That could be a good idea,” I replied, smiling shyly.

Suddenly, Nami appeared abruptly, dragging Robin by the arm. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Shanks leaned toward me, whispering, “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your night.” With that, he stood up and returned to his friends.

Nami pulled us toward the bathroom. “Girls, emergency. One of the friends from next door is my PhD advisor.”

“And what’s the problem?” Robin asked, confused.

Nami blushed instantly. I already knew what was going on.

“That’s why you stayed so late the other day and didn’t answer my messages. You like him!”

Nami quickly covered my mouth as if anyone could hear us. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“He’s very handsome,” Robin said

The three of us laughed and took the opportunity to tease Nami for a while, returning all the comments she made to us daily.

“Girls, I’m going to refill my drink, I’ll be right back,” I said, noticing that the drink Shanks had given me was empty.

As I approached the bar, Shanks and some others from his group were laughing and chatting with a group of girls. One of them, in particular, couldn’t stop touching and flirting with him, and Shanks didn’t seem to mind much.

I timidly approached the bar and ordered my drink. Suddenly, someone put their arm around my shoulders.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here… are you stalking me?”

Kid.

“Kid,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are you alone? Come with me outside for a while, let’s talk,” he said, grabbing my hand.

“No, I’m with friends, thanks,” I replied.

I grabbed my drink, intending to find my friends and leave. I spotted Nami and Robin, who had joined the group and were each talking with one of Shanks’ friends.

Kid pulled me toward him, gripping my hand tightly. “Who did you come with? Your new boyfriend? I bet he’s got nothing on me. I’m better,” he said.

I tried to pull away from his hand, but his grip was strong. “Come back to me, or I’ll break that idiot’s face.”

“Leave me alone, Kid.”

“Come on, who is it? You probably made him up,” he said, loosening his grip just slightly but not enough for me to escape the situation.

“Him,” I said, pointing at Shanks.

Kid burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, like anyone would believe that. Prove it, then. Go over there and show me you’re with him, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I turned and saw the worried looks on my friends’ faces and Shanks glancing in our direction.

Kid let go of my arm, and I used the opportunity to escape from him.

“I’m waiting, Y/N,” he shouted after me.

I had to do something; I had to get rid of him. I downed my drink in one gulp to gather the courage and make a decision. Okay.

I quickly made my way through the crowd toward Shanks. He greeted me with a look of surprise, though there was an intense look in his eyes, scanning me from head to toe, not missing a single move I made.

I got closer, and Shanks instinctively leaned toward me, much to the astonishment of the girl who was gripping his bicep. Without thinking about the consequences, or anyone else around us, or even what Shanks might think or want, I grabbed him by the neck. My hands moved to his face, and I quickly pressed my lips toward his, not giving anyone time to think about what was about to happen.

Our lips fused together passionately. Shanks grabbed my waist, and his other hand moved to my hair, gripping it firmly. After a moment, his tongue pushed past my lips, deepening the kiss with fiery intensity while his friends began cheering and laughing. I was so embarrassed that I pulled away from his lips. Shanks let go of me, but his gaze lingered on my wrist.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked with concern.

I looked down at my wrist, which was red from Kid’s rough grip.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again as I remained silent.

The ringing in my ears grew louder and louder. I had been too impulsive, and now everything was crashing down on me.

Shanks took my other hand and led me to a quieter part of the bar, where the atmosphere was calmer.

“Are you okay pretty? Do you want me to take you home?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. I needed to calm down and get back to normal. I didn’t want to ruin the night.

“Who is that guy?” he asked again, his tone more relaxed, as he moved a little closer and gently massaged my back.

“He’s my ex. He won’t leave me alone,” I said, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.”

Shanks leaned in even closer, slowly pressing his body against mine, and once again, his lips met mine with great passion. He kissed me for a few seconds, then moved toward my ear.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered while gently biting my ear.

I nodded, completely surrendering myself.

He lifted my dress slightly, slipping his hand under it and grabbing my butt firmly, massaging it while he returned to kiss me again, fiercely.

NEXT CHAPTER

[dxpaa]

The smell of heavy cigarette smoke was in the air. It was so strong and intense that it can gave someone a headache. Even opening the windows wide open didn't help to remove this heavy odor. The entire penthouse from the first to the second floor was filled with the smell of Shiu's cigarettes as he sat behind the white leather sofa in the guest room, slowly sipping his cigarette and sorting through the paperwork on another new case.

Everything was a mess. Literally everything. The coffee table was littered with papers and various pictures of the new target the client had given. On the edge of the marble table stood an empty whiskey glass with a leftover ice cube inside. In the middle was an ashtray with more than five cigarette butts inside.

The wall clock strikes exactly midnight.

You open the bedroom door and, wrapped in nothing but a white silk robe, walk downstairs to the first floor. You cough a few times on the way down and cover your nose and mouth with the palm of your hand. Stepping barefoot on the cold tiled floor, goosebumps arrive on your skin.

Stopping at the penultimate staircase, you see Shiu sitting in the semi-darkness, concentrating in his work. Everything around him was dark aside from the chandelier above and the light of the moon from the window.

You watch your husband take another drag and exhale smoke into the air. A little bit of ash falls down.

Right on the white, expensive couch. The most expensive piece of furniture in this huge penthouse.

"What the hell, Shiu?!" You quickly run up to him and sweep the ashes off the couch.

You frown your eyebrows and bend down to look over to see if the ash left a mark on your favorite couch. You turn to your husband who stares at you silently and exhales smoke.

You cough and wave the smoke away with your hands. "Doll, don't worry about that couch. I'll buy you ten more of these if you want them" He smirks cheekily at you, but you didn't care about laughing or his stupid jokes right now.

"Ughhh, it's not funny, baby."

Your man sighs and finishes his cigarette and puts it out in the ashtray. He reaches for his glass, but seeing that it is empty, he reaches under the table and pulls out a bottle to pour himself another drink.

When you see this, you quickly snatch the bottle from his hands and put it behind your back.

"Alcohol won't help you with your work. Neither will cigarettes." You try to soften your tone so you don't sound too harsh. You've seen how tired your husband has looked lately and you didn't want to push him even harder.

"I don't like having that disgusting smell in our house all the time" You sit down on the soft rugs and look up at him. Shiu looks down at you too, sitting on the couch and remains silent. Though knowing him, he'd say something right now to tease you. But he just doesn't say anything. You lay your head in his lap.

"Let's go to bed, dear."

He runs his rough hands through your hair, looking at the mess on the table.

"I've got more shit to deal with. The customer has been very generous this time and if we get this bastard out as soon as possible, the payoff will be fantastic. I can't just let it go now."

He removes his hand from your head and reaches for the stack of papers to go through them again. You lift your head, feeling useless because there's no way you can help your lover.

"I can help you if you need it."

Shiu smiles snidely and looks at you out of the corner of his eye "So what are you going to help me with, doll?"

You run your eyes over the whole mess and remain silent.

Really, how are you going to help him?

"I can sort the papers. Or find information that will be useful to you." You look at him hopefully, but he doesn't even listen to you, leaving the two of you in silence.

"Shiu?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, you said you wanted to offer me your help" He sets aside the first stack of papers and picks up the second.

"Yes baby, I said I could sort your papers for you or find useful information for you." You say it again and get a short “mhmm” in response.

Your man didn't seem interested in your help. He doesn't even look at you. His eyes are scanning for more important things than your help. You sit down next to him on the couch and rest your chin on his shoulder. Your gaze falls on the photos of the man, taken surreptitiously in various locations.

"Is this your victim?"

After a few seconds of silence on his part, you hear a simple “yes”.

After a little more time, you ask the question again. "And what's his offense that he needs to be killed?"

"I don't give a fuck about what he did. I was given an assignment, I took it." Shiu gives out sharply irritated. He's never spoken to you so rudely.

You realize that he obviously doesn't want to be in your company right now, so you sit away from him a little. You both sit in silence for a while longer again. You glance at clock. It's almost 1. am in the morning.

"I can really be of use to you, baby. Just give me an assignment and I'll-"

"It's getting late, go upstairs and go to bed. I'll join you later."

You press your lips together with an incomprehensible sense of resentment. You don't want to be listened to and are considered a burden.

"Shiu?"

The man clenches his teeth, trying to even out his tone.

"Yes, doll?"

It still sounds fake. Like he's holding back aggression.

You gently take his hand.

"Love, let's go to bed. You don't need to stress yourself out with this work. This case and the customer can wait. You can finish everything tomorrow too. Let's just-"

"What the fuck are you saying that for?! Do you realize what kind of shit yer saying right now? No, the job and the customer can't fucking wait! Don't you realize how important this is to me?”

You recoil fearfully from his harsh tone. You look at his angry face and the expression he's literally yelling at you with. You silently rub your hands together to calm yourself down somehow.

"Why can't you just fucking go to bed alone?"

"I can't sleep without you. I'm cold and I feel lonely." your voice treacherously shakes, giving away the anxiety coming up to your throat. One foot begins to rub the other. Your fists rub together so hard that your knuckles start to turn red.

Shiu swallows. He slowly begins to realize what he has done. With just his words alone.

"I just don't like to see you get tired." You slowly get up from the couch and walk backwards away from your husband. "I feel just awful when I see you working all day, killing people and coming in at night covered in someone’s blood."

Your husband looks at your trembling hands that can't stop rubbing against each other. You don't even look at him. Your gaze is downcast.

"And me... I'm just sitting at home. Alone. Sometimes I go shopping and cook us dinner. I feel like a useless trophy wife. And I really… really want to try to do something for you."

"Fuck" The man lowers his face into the palms of his hands. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

But you don't stop. The words pour out of you like a flood. "Shiu, I don't know why it happened today. I really didn't mean to piss you off. Maybe I'm just too clingy. I hate seeing you working hard for us and me just sitting back."

You stare off into the distance at the kitchen cabinets. Specifically the outermost upper cabinet. That's where the last shelf on top holds your tranquilizers, which you stopped taking a long time ago after Shiu came into your life. But you always knew exactly where the medicine you needed was, and even with your eyes closed you could get to it from the other side of the house.

You swallow and close your eyes, trying not to think about the pills you've been addicted to for years. Anxiety was starting to come up your throat again and it was making you feel nauseous.

"I can sleep on my own tonight if I need to, it's fine. I-I... I mean y-you..."

You started gasping for breath from the sudden lack of air and rubbed your fists even harder until bleeding wounds appeared.

Shiu Kong, one of the most violent men in criminal organizations, abruptly drops to your lap and presses his forehead into your stomach. His arms hug you tightly and soothingly stroke everything he can touch. Your legs grow weak, but you try to stand still. Your trembling hands run through your husband's dark hair. You take his face in your hands and lift his face so he can meet his gaze with yours.

You see his red tired eyes that were wet with tears. The male hitman who brutally killed everyone was kneeling in front of his wife, resting his head on her stomach and crying.

"My love, I’m so deeply sorry. I don't fucking deserve you" He kisses your flat stomach and gently strokes your back.

You're still breathing hard, but you're trying to count backwards from a hundred to at least calm yourself down.

"I need the pills, Shiu. Otherwise I won't be able to calm myself down..."

"No, please, I'm begging you, love. Please forgive me for my words. I completely forgot about your fragile health. But please don't touch the pills."

Your husband rises to his feet and puts his hands on your shoulders. He's a whole head taller than you and you have to raise your gaze to him.

"No, I can't do without them. I need my meds" You say helplessly.

Shiu pulls you to him and bumps his nose against your neck. Your pulse races frantically, but begins to slowly return to a normal rhythm.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...Fuck… I’m so deeply sorry…"

You close your eyes and remain silent, letting yourself be hugged. Your husband's hands are still stroking your back through the silk robe.

"Please forgive me. I don't know what came over me, my love."

"It's allright, Shiu."

"No, it’s not. I caused you to have another panic attack after all these years. And I'm very sorry about that. I shouldn't have said those words to you."

"Oh, dear..."

You pull away from him and look at his crying face. It was obvious that he was very sorry for what he had done.

"Y/n, darling, what can I do to make you forgive me?"

"It's not your fault, Shiu. It's okay, I'm perfectly fine. The only thing you can do for me is to put off work and go get some rest."

Your husband returns his gaze to the stack of papers lying on the coffee table.

"Seeing the way you work yourself to your limit and fuel your stress with alcohol is hurting me."

You stare at your knuckles, blood dripping from them. Shiu brings them to his lips and kisses them very gently. A trace of blood remains on his lips.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me in my life. I'm often a bastard to you-"

"No, Shiu, you're perfect. You're the best gift fate could have given me. You're someone who works for both of us and our future. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't have what we have now. If it weren't for you, I'd be on tranquilizers until I die.”

"Y/n, please..." Your husband looks at you exhaustedly again, begging for you to stop saying things like that after what he did.

"What happened is just the stress accumulated on you over the past few days. So you just need to rest."

You stroke your husband's cheek. While his casual words caused you anxiety, you healed him with your words.

"I don't fucking deserve you, doll."

He reaches for your lips for a kiss that carries all his deep feelings and apologies to you.

[agirlsawalittlerose]

This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 12: Don’t Speak

Vic was grateful for the morning-after pill.

The irony wasn’t lost on her as she signed the form and waited for that tiny pill, the one thing that would let her erase last night from her mind for good. But as she sat in that uncomfortable chair at Boots, she allowed herself one last moment to think about it.

She couldn’t even remember how it had felt. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had kissed him first, she had started it all, but she couldn’t even recall what Aegon’s hands had felt like on her, what his lips had tasted like, whether there had been even the faintest trace of feeling for her in his gaze.

A strange jolt of clarity had hit her when, on the Uber ride home, she felt the skin of her inner thigh sting. At least that morning, she knew exactly what her first and only errand of the day would be.

Aegon hadn’t asked any questions, not even about the fact that his parents could have stumbled upon their very public act if they’d chosen that moment to take out the trash.

In the end, men were all the same: they seek you out for a bit, get what they want, and then move on to the next prey. Why would he be any different?

Vic decided she’d made the right call. She might as well take whatever scraps of affection Aegon was willing to offer, even if it was fleeting, even if it ended with post-nut clarity.

After all, he hadn’t even texted her since last night.

The pharmacist called Vic’s name, snapping her out of her thoughts. She stood up quickly, listened as they repeated the instructions for the pill, and with a curt goodbye, she left Boots.

She couldn’t wait to crawl under her duvet, put on her headphones, and bury everything that had happened beneath layers of synthetic fibers and good music.

On her way back, she grabbed a Coke from an off-license. She’d read somewhere years ago that it worked well as an anti-emetic. Perfect, considering her stomach was twisting itself into knots—whether from the hangover, the shame of last night, or the gnawing fear that Aegon would never want her for anything more than what he took the night before.

She pushed that thought aside as she swallowed the pill, washing it down with a long gulp of Coke. Folding the leaflet neatly, she stuffed it back into the box and tossed the whole thing into the trash.

The thought of her bed, just a few steps away, was the only comfort she had left.

Vic wasn’t sure how long she had been buried under her duvet, slipping in and out of sleep. The pounding hangover had her trapped in her personal prison, while her brain worked overtime trying to sweep everything under the rug. By the time Sara knocked on her door, it was already dark.

Vic peeled the duvet off her head and gestured for her to come in.

Through the doorway, she first saw the familiar box of the pill and then Sara herself, wearing the mischievous expression of someone dying to hear all the gossip.

“Well? What did you do?” Sara asked as Vic flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She responded with a groan that was more of a lament. Sara plopped down beside her.

“The tree-hugger? Wait, it’s not Charlie, right?” Sara pressed, her usual high-pitched curiosity on full display.

“Aegon,” Vic muttered, her voice muffled by the hands she’d slapped over her face.

She heard Sara gasp loudly. When she finally uncovered her eyes, Sara was gaping at her, though the upward twitch of her lips betrayed her delight.

“No, Sara, don’t you dare—” Vic sat up and snatched the box from her friend’s hands.

“You slut, tell me everything!” Sara continued, undeterred.

She clearly didn’t get it.

“Come on, he’s got that vibe. He’s got to be packing, right? It’s always the shorter guys…”

“It’s not—” Vic cut her off. “It didn’t go exactly how you’re imagining.”

Sara’s brows furrowed as she waved her hand, urging Vic to explain.

Vic fidgeted with her hands for a moment before finally admitting, “I’m an idiot.”

Sara scoffed. “You’re an idiot? Why? Because you finally hooked up with the guy you’ve been flirting with for months? The one who’s probably your soulmate?”

Vic shot her a look, incredulous. Soulmate? Aegon couldn’t be anyone’s soulmate, let alone hers.

“I showed up at his place, we hooked up, and as soon as we finished, I left,” Vic confessed. “I didn’t even say a word to him…” She trailed off, almost lost in thought.

Sara’s smile faltered as she began to sense there was more to the story. “Were you guys drunk?”

Vic nodded. “I mean, I was. He was just smoking outside his building, and I didn’t even say anything before…”

Sara’s confusion deepened. “Wait, you hooked up outside?!”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point,” Vic said, though deep down, she knew it kind of was the point too.

Sara studied her for a moment, maybe sensing the truth—Vic wasn’t even a little proud of what she’d done.

“Well, text him,” she suggested, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Sure, Vic could text him. But what the hell was she supposed to say?

“Sorry I only had the guts to act on this completely out-of-control attraction while drunk and after a shitty day. Can you clarify whether you agreed to fuck me out of pity and/or because you’d already decided weeks ago that it was going to happen?”

Yeah, no. She had no desire to hear him say it wasn’t that deep.

And besides, Vic was good at faking indifference. She was doing him a favor by not putting him in a position where he had to tell her she’d made it all up in her head and that, to him, it was just a quick fuck.

“There’s nothing to say, Sara. We’re both adults. He’s been wanting to sleep with me for a while, we both needed some kind of… comfort, and that’s that.” She ran a hand through her messy bangs, forcing herself to sound convincing.

But with Sara, that was useless.

“Well, if you think about it, the only one treating this like a meaningless hookup is you,” Sara countered, eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he’s out there right now, tearing his hair out and writing me a love letter in rhyming couplets,” Vic shot back, dripping with sarcasm.

“And how do you know he isn’t?”

“Aegon?” Vic asked, exasperated. “The same guy who, three weeks ago, had some insanely hot girl on his lap probably begging him to snort coke off her tits?”

“But he didn’t,” Sara countered without missing a beat.

Vic let out a deep sigh and collapsed back onto the bed, hands over her face, staring at the ceiling. She tried not to dwell on Sara’s arguments.

Her plan to sweep everything under the rug was working. Last night’s beers were helping her forget—the act itself, the scent of his skin, the warmth of his hands…

“You’re so convinced you don’t deserve love that you won’t even check if this is another failure,” Sara said, twisting the knife deeper. “Once again, you’re scared shitless of rejection and pretending you don’t care. Which is a joke because you know you are brave! You had the guts to apply to a program that only accepts ten people a year.”

“And that went great,” Vic muttered flatly.

Sara gave her a look that, to Vic, felt a lot like pity.

“You’re an idiot, but you know exactly what I mean,” she said.

Maybe Vic did know. That didn’t mean she wanted to process it.

“You coming to the pub?” Sara asked after a beat, remembering Vic was on shift that night.

Vic hesitated.

“Alright, I’ll tell Tony you got hit with a sudden, explosive case of diarrhea,” Sara added.

And for a brief moment, Vic thought that diarrhea might actually be preferable to whatever the fuck she was dealing with.

******

Aemond couldn’t figure out what had happened or why the rehearsal space suddenly felt like a graveyard. The only sound cutting through the silence was Aegon’s guitar.

Victoria had disappeared for a day, and when she showed up that morning, she looked like a shadow of herself. Shoulders hunched inward, gaze fixed on the floor. She’d greeted Aegon in barely a whisper, and he’d mumbled a response without even looking at her.

Aemond’s first thought was that his idiot brother had done something—said something rude or made her uncomfortable in one of his typical, careless ways. It wouldn’t be the first time Aegon had blundered his way into someone else’s bad mood.

But Aegon’s behavior wasn’t defensive. Instead, he carried himself with the cocky, self-assured demeanor of someone with nothing to hide. Normally, Aemond would’ve chalked that up to his brother’s inability to take accountability for his own screw-ups. But this time, there was something off.

It almost looked like Aegon was... waiting for an apology?

That didn’t make any sense. Aemond couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Victoria would need to apologise to Aegon.

Aemond exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the back of a chair as he watched them from across the room.

They weren’t looking at each other.

Aegon was tuning his guitar with an almost comical level of concentration, eyes fixed downward like the instrument held the secrets of the universe. Victoria, on the other hand, sat behind the piano, her fingers hovering stiffly above the keys, as if touching them too soon might set something off.

The whole thing was fucking weird.

Aemond had seen them work together. He’d watched Victoria roll her eyes at Aegon’s antics, and he’d watched Aegon light up at her approval like some desperate street dog finally getting a scrap. It was a thing between them—their push and pull, the energy they fed off each other. Even when Aegon got lazy and Victoria got frustrated, it was something.

This? This was nothing.

This was dead air.

Aemond forced himself to take a slow breath before speaking. “Alright. Let’s run through the arrangement again. Victoria, take the chords from the pre-chorus.”

She nodded stiffly. Aegon cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and then—finally, finally—looked at her. Just for a second.

Victoria didn’t look back.

Aemond’s patience was already thin when Aegon started playing, the melody coming in a beat later than usual. Victoria followed, but there was no synergy, no instinctual ease. She played like she was following orders. Aegon played like he was proving a point.

The song dragged.

No, they dragged.

Aegon had always been messy, but Victoria had a way of smoothing him out, keeping things tight, controlled. Today, though, she was playing too carefully, hesitating on transitions that should’ve been second nature by now. And Aegon? He was pushing his strumming too hard, letting it get rougher, like he was testing her.

She didn’t rise to it.

She didn’t react at all.

Aegon hit a note too sharp, and Victoria winced—just a flicker of it, almost imperceptible, but Aemond caught it.

Then she stopped playing.

Aemond snapped. “Are you alright?”

Victoria exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. “I lost the rhythm,” she muttered.

Aegon let out a breathy laugh, humorless. “That’s a first.”

Victoria’s jaw tightened. “Guess I’m just off today.”

Aemond dragged a hand down his face. “Alright, no problem. Let’s try again.”

Aegon didn’t even wait for Victoria to nod before he started playing. His fingers were steady, confident. If she kept up, she’d have to do it his way.

Victoria pressed down on the keys a second later.

It sounded wrong.

They were playing the same song, but it felt like two different versions of it, tangled together in a way that didn’t quite fit.

Aemond clenched his jaw. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just some bad mood. He wasn’t sure what the hell had happened between them, but one thing was clear:

Something had broken.

At the end of the day, when Aemond spotted her at the bus stop, he hesitated for a moment.

Something was off. He could see it in the way she leaned against the shelter, one arm propped up, the other hand pressing against her forehead like she was trying to comfort herself from whatever thought was weighing her down.

Before he could stop himself, he walked over.

“You do know it’s on detour today and won’t be coming, right?” he murmured near her ear.

She turned her head sharply, looking at him with mild confusion before following his gaze to the sign above them, which informed passengers that, due to roadwork, her bus wouldn’t be stopping there.

Victoria exhaled deeply and muttered, “Fuck.”

Again, before he could stop himself, Aemond spoke. “I was about to grab something to eat. Want to come?”

“Not hungry,” she replied flatly, fishing a cigarette out of her bag.

“Fuck eating then. Beer?” He tilted his head, trying to catch her eye.

She looked at him, cigarette unlit between her lips, and for a second, Aemond could tell she was debating it. But the idea didn’t seem to displease her.

“Fuck it, why not,” she said simply, shrugging.

Aemond allowed himself a small smile.

He wasn’t great at casual conversation, and with Victoria, he usually didn’t have to be. She was the one who overshared, asked bizarre questions, kept things moving.

But now, with their second beer in front of them and her gaze fixed on the condensation trailing down her glass, Aemond realized it was up to him to fill the silence.

“I liked that variation on the tonic you did in the bridge today,” he said, hoping music talk might bring her back to life.

Victoria blinked, like she was snapping out of some miserable train of thought.

“I was dragging the whole time—it almost sounded like I meant to play it offbeat. It was awful,” she muttered bitterly.

Aemond felt something twist in his chest.

No. Awful wasn’t a word that should ever be used to describe her.

It was obvious now—something was really wrong.

“Bad day. Happens,” he said, keeping his voice even, hoping she’d take the bait and open up.

“Bad week…” she murmured, taking a long sip of her beer, eyes dropping back to the glass.

Aemond hesitated for a moment, afraid of pushing too hard, of making her retreat even further into herself. He thought back to a few months ago, to the fire in those amber eyes, to the way Victoria had treated him with sharp indifference every time he’d tried to convince her to sign with the label.

He missed that fire.

And once again, he didn’t stop himself.

“What happened, Victoria?” he asked, tapping his finger against her glass to get her attention.

She lifted her gaze to him—sad, full of pain. For a moment, Aemond felt like he was drowning in amber, honey, and gold.

“I didn’t get into St. Louis,” she said, looking away almost immediately.

Shame? Guilt?

Aemond wasn’t sure how to read her reaction. For a split second, he wondered if there was more to it, but right now, the priority was making Victoria feel better.

“Well, I’m sorry, Victoria. I know how damn near impossible it is to get in,” he said, glancing down at her hand on the table, debating whether to reach for it. His fingers hovered near hers, tingling with hesitation.

“I know,” she muttered, still avoiding his gaze. “That’s why I wanted to get in. I felt good enough to do something impossible. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Or clearly, they were looking for something else. Or the director’s nephew applied. Or there were ten people just a little better than you,” Aemond countered, firm.

Victoria’s eyes snapped to his, wounded.

“Which doesn’t change the fact that you’re a breathtakingly incredible songwriter,” he added before she could protest.

Aemond felt something twist in his gut when he saw her blush, a small smile finally breaking through—like the sun pushing through London’s gray after a long, rainy morning.

“Well, now that you put it like that, I feel kind of stupid,” she said, her smile turning wry.

“Don’t.” His reply was instant, unwavering. “Ambition looks really fucking good on you.”

He regretted it the moment he said it—too much like a personal compliment rather than a professional comment.

“And you don’t need St. Louis,” he added quickly, recovering, proud of how smoothly he’d managed to steer the conversation in his favor.

Victoria looked at him, almost confused. Or maybe she knew exactly where this was going.

“I mean, if what you’re looking for is someone to spend months telling you how brilliant your songs are, I still have a contract for you to sign…”

“Aemond,” she warned, lightly smacking his hand in mock scolding.

His ears went up in flames.

“Hey, it was worth a try,” he said, shrugging, relishing in the real smile she was finally giving him.

“And after all—” he grinned, tilting his head “—that wasn’t a no.”

*****

The rehearsals had been a disaster, and Aegon knew it. That wasn’t good—not with the Christmas party barely three weeks away, not with an album still missing half its songs, and not with a single that needed about a million more tweaks before it was even close to ready.

But somehow, none of that was pissing him off as much as her.

Vic, who had used him like a one-night distraction and then tossed him aside without a word. Vic, who had spent the entire studio session acting like some tragic fucking martyr, as if he were the one who had done something wrong.

He had stayed an extra hour after she and Aemond left, running through the single alone, trying to work through the mess in his head. But the more he played, the worse it got. He kept hearing her voice in every lyric, seeing her in every line he’d written, and by the end of it, he was just as frustrated as when he started.

And the worst part? He couldn’t even call her out on it. Not when they had to keep things civil for the sake of the album and the Christmas party, not when Aemond would side-eye him for bringing personal drama into the studio, and certainly not when their father was already waiting for an excuse to rip him apart.

But he was so fucking done with this cold war.

If she thought she could avoid him forever, she was wrong.

So, he grabbed his stuff and headed straight to her place.

Great, it had also started raining.

Once in Peckham, in front of Vic’s modest flat, he rang the doorbell, rain dripping down his face, soaking through his clothes.

Fucking London. Fucking Vic.

She wasn’t answering.

He tried again. And again. Huffing dramatically because—seriously? After using him and tossing him aside? After making him believe, even for a moment, that she understood him, that she accepted him? After fucking him and vanishing without a word?

And now that he was being magnanimous enough to give her a chance to explain herself, she was leaving him standing in the damn rain outside her door?

The door swung open.

But it wasn’t Vic.

It was very single Sara.

“Why are you always soaking wet every time I see you?” she laughed, stepping aside to let him in.

As they climbed the narrow stairs toward the kitchen, Aegon noticed she had a nice ass.

“Can you call Vic for a second?” he asked, stopping just short of the small living room.

Sara turned to him, confused.

“She’s not here,” she said.

“What do you mean she’s not here?” Aegon snapped.

Sara raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fucking know, Blondie. You were with her. She hasn’t come back yet—maybe she got caught up with transport or something.”

She gave him a quick once-over and sighed.

“I’ll grab you a dry shirt. You’re making a damn puddle,” she added before disappearing up the stairs.

Five minutes later, they were sitting on the oversized red sofa in the living room, both holding steaming cups of tea. The sofa was far too big for the small space, and Aegon fucking hated tea, but Sara had insisted he stay and wait for Vic to come home.

She had also lent him a Paddington T-shirt—the biggest she had, apparently—but it was still too tight on him. Not surprising, considering how small she was, curled up on the sofa, watching him over the rim of her cup with sharp green eyes. With her short red hair and pointed features, she looked like some kind of mischievous sprite.

“I know you two fucked,” she said suddenly, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

Aegon felt his irritation flare. He could just imagine the kind of comments those two had exchanged—probably laughing at him, making jokes at his expense. He could picture them snickering about the dumb look on his face when Vic had just walked away, leaving him half-naked and feeling like a complete idiot.

“Oh yeah, real discreet, your friend,” he muttered.

Sara just shrugged. “Well, considering you nearly got arrested for public indecency, I’d say discreet isn’t exactly the word I’d use for either of you.”

Aegon was hit with the memory in an instant—the rough brick wall beneath his palm as he struggled to keep his balance, Vic’s warm cunt wrapped around him, his lips against the delicate, perfumed skin of her neck.

He shoved the thought aside.

“She started it,” he said, though the words came out more childish than he intended.

“How drunk was she?” Sara asked, suddenly serious.

Aegon bristled. “What the fuck kind of question is that? You think she wouldn’t have come onto me if she was sober?”

Sara placed her cup down on the floor. “Relax, Blondie. That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I know how she gets when something bad happens. And I know how much she likes to hurt herself when it does.”

Aegon studied her, but even though her voice was calm, her words did nothing to soothe him.

A flicker of something uneasy stirred in his chest.

Worry for Vic?

The phrase looped in his mind, and for a second, he almost asked what she meant.

Then he shoved the thought aside.

“So, what, I’m just another way for her to self-destruct?” he shot back, still bitter.

Of course. Very single Sara had an opinion too. He’d barely spoken to her twice, and yet here she was, making the same judgments as everyone else.

“I was talking about the drinking,” she clarified, unfazed.

Aegon started to snap back, shifting too fast and nearly spilling tea all over himself—then stopped cold as her words finally sank in.

His fingers tightened slightly around the too-hot mug, the Paddington Bear print stretching awkwardly across his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to say.

For a second, he considered letting it go. Pretending he didn’t care, because that was easier. But before he could stop himself, the words were already out of his mouth.

“What happened?”

It came out quieter than he meant it to, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Sara sighed, shifting on the sofa. “She didn’t get into St. Louis.”

Aegon blinked.

Shit.

He knew how much that had meant to her.

Because it meant she was good enough.

Because it would prove to everyone—the industry, maybe even herself—that she wasn’t just some girl playing sad songs in a pub.

And now she hadn’t gotten in.

His mind went back to that afternoon in the elevator.

He exhaled, staring down at his untouched tea.

“She tell you?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.

Sara nodded. “I was there when she got the email.” She paused, then tilted her head slightly. “But I don’t think that was the only thing messing with her.”

Aegon frowned. “Yeah?”

Sara stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Stuff with her family.” She let that sit for a second before adding, “Oh, and apparently fucking Charlie found some idiot willing to put up with him. Guess that finally killed off Vic’s romanticized idea of him.”

The words barely had time to register before something inside him snapped.

Charlie.

Fucking Charlie.

Charlie, who had spent years stringing Vic along, letting her hold onto some pathetic hope that he’d come back to her, that she mattered to him, when the truth was he’d never given a shit.

Aegon’s grip tightened around the mug.

Not because he cared.

No, he was pissed because it was disrespectful.

Because it fucking bothered him that Vic had used him to get over someone else.

She had treated him like nothing, like a distraction, like something to use and discard the second she was done.

That was all.

And yet, his jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“I think you two need to talk,” Sara said, pulling him out of the spiral his mind had taken and back to reality.

“I don’t have a single fucking thing to say to her,” Aegon snapped, folding his arms over his chest, suffocating poor Paddington the way he wished he could strangle Charlie, Vic, and pretty much anyone else who had pissed him off in his life.

“Aegon,” Sara chided, and he looked at her, still not quite used to hearing his name from her mouth.

Sara was hot.

She had one of those perfect upturned noses people brought to plastic surgeons as an example, big green eyes that still sparkled despite the shitty weather, and full lips with the kind of cupid’s bow that looked almost unreal. And she had an incredible ass—something he’d already noticed a couple of times since stepping into the apartment.

On top of that, she was very single.

And she had made sure he knew that the first time they met.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said suddenly, without thinking.

The way she reacted gave his ego a much-needed jolt—waking up not just his mood, but his dick, too.

Sara flinched, and Aegon could see the effort she was making not to let her expression betray her. Instead of throwing herself at him, she simply raised an eyebrow, barely masking her flustered state.

“No.”

That surprised him.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re being an idiot,” she said flatly, arms crossed. “You should be doing the thing you actually came here for—talking to Vic.”

Aegon wasn’t easily deterred. “But you do like me. Just admit it.”

He leaned back against the sofa, stretching out a little, angling his legs toward her, resting one knee on the cushions.

“I like the idea of my best friend getting the chance to explain herself more,” Sara countered, though her confidence wavered for just a second when she noticed him inching closer.

Then, abruptly, she stood, grabbing both their mugs—his still full, completely untouched—and took them to the kitchen.

Damn Vic Dawson. Fuck Vic Dawson.

Fucking girl code was now actively blocking his access to Sara’s perfect ass.

Aegon rolled his eyes and sighed, but he wouldn’t call it a total loss.

He wasn’t stupid, wasn’t new to this game, and Sara definitely wasn’t the first girl who had wanted him but held back because her friend got there first.

When she returned, he was already putting on his jacket, still wearing the stupid Paddington shirt.

“Where are you going?” she asked, exasperated.

“Dinner. Alone,” he said, straightening his collar without looking at her. “Thanks for the shirt. I’ll give it back soon—maybe by then, you’ll have changed your mind.”

There was plenty of time to make her see that Vic didn’t matter.

He had already forgotten about her.