#top: i have trauma 🥺🥺

[earlywintermourning]

top and mew out manipulating each other in the gayest game of 4D chess ever played

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[larcenywrites]

any headcanons about what dating logan/wolverine might be like? 👀

I can try 😮‍💨 just like with sabretooth, I worry I can’t properly capture him… but we can always dabble around with ideas!

Wolverine x Reader

Warnings: definitely has nsfw | one line does refer to reader being AFAB |

🍺 Sigh… the real question is, how are you going to get in a relationship with this man 😒

🍺 Never mind whether he’s still pining after Jean or not, the guy just refuses to commit 🙄 doesn’t matter if you’ve fucked or not.

🍺 But let’s skip that whole dramatic montage and say you did manage to finally tie him down just a little 🤏

🍺 It’s not like Logan doesn’t have fun or smile or know how to love! But when it comes to an actual bona fide relationship… it’s just harder to comfortably do those things. He’s lived a long time, been through nearly every type of trauma, hates himself for what he is half the time, and, while it hides well behind all that attitude, he’s afraid of a lot of things— from himself to the world.

🍺 So it makes it hard for him to love like that. Feelings are kinda hard for him to talk about 😔 at least, at first. Later on it gets easier, and while his tone may still be soft and gruff and he might sound reserved, but he won’t shy away from any sweet pillow talk anymore 🥺 though… any specific topics pertaining to a future… he’s probably a little more eager to switch to something else 😣

🍺 He’ll definitely be all growly if you start playing with his hair 😤 believe it or not, he’s a little particular about his grooming, and still a little funny about being unexpectedly touched at times— even by his partner.

🍺 But perhaps the real show of love here is the fact that he still won’t stop you 🥲

🍺 Usually the free time he has is spent fucking shit up in the danger room or drinking at his favorite spot, but he will actually take you on dates that don’t involve either! (But let’s be honest, it’s kinda hot to watch him tear shit up sometimes 😏)

🍺 It’s canon that Logan enjoys some broadway musicals! And while it’s not its favorite thing to have to do, he can dress up quite nice 😘

🍺 Actually a horndog 😮‍💨 For a guy that’s always going on about controlling his raging animal or whatever, he sure doesn’t have much control when his sexual partner even looks at him the wrong way 🙄 Maybe it’s all the energy he can never quite get out, or maybe it’s because he goes without for a while at a time, but definitely don’t be surprised when, upon finally getting to share his bed, you don’t get very much sleep 😘

🍺 Unfortunately(?) the dude can smell horniness, which will get him going no matter what his current situation is 🤭

🍺 I know this man eats pussy like nobody’s business 🥴 literally pouncing on you 🥴 maybe a rather hard bite to your thigh before just literally diving in, but otherwise probably won’t do much foreplay, especially nothing all loving and sweet.

🍺 Surprisingly a cuddler? But not, like, when you do it :/ a selective cuddler, we’ll call him. He’ll roll over and trap you in a bear hug 🥰 but no matter if you are taller or shorter than him, he’s gonna be face planted in your shoulder blades

🍺 one of those people that will not be little spoon 😒😒😒😒😒 you might get away with it if you catch him already in bed and you just crawl on top of him and wrap around him 🤭

🍺 but he’s definitely a sucker for having you lie on his chest 🥺🥺🥺🥺 he’ll probably sigh as if you’re bothering him, but it’s kinda like that thing dogs do when they get comfy and sigh loudly 🥰

🍺 it’s counterintuitive, but tbh the more you shower him with love the more he low key hates himself… but he still definitely enjoys it! He actually does love to be loved! A little shy about it, though.

🍺 don’t be afraid to kiss his hand right where his claws come out 😘

🍺 not necessarily jealous as much as he is protective…

🍺 well, he does get a little possessive…

🍺 sometimes might be petty af if you try to come into bed smelling like someone who’s pissed him off that day (many people piss him off every day)

🍺 like it’s not your fault you were in the same general area as Cyclops for longer than ten minutes and Wolfie over here can smell that 😒

🍺 When he’s done throwing his pity party, though, you get way-too-tight cuddles though so it’s a win? How else are you supposed to smell like him again?

[incognit0slut]

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

This isn’t a love story. This isn’t a fairytale. This is about a woman bent on setting the world on fire and the FBI agent assigned to her case, drawn to the very flame she ignites.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Unsub!Reader

Warnings: (18+) Typical CM violence, mentions of sexual assault and trauma, implied sex, fire/arson, and this is basically angst with no happy ending

A/n: For once, I am writing outside my comfort zone. This is heavily based on John Mayer’s song with the same title, Female Rage, and Megan Kane (she did nothing wrong!). Constructive criticism is welcome since I rarely write angst, but please be nice, it's my birthday🥺 (yes my birthday appreciation post is heartbreaking)

You wanted the world to burn.

You wanted to watch the ashes drift through the air. You wanted to smell the acid scent of smoke. You wanted to feel the heat envelop you, to wrap your body like a suffocating blanket. Because simply sitting in silence wasn’t enough for the rage that consumed you, the smoldering anger that craved the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath.

You craved the chaos, but the man lying defeated before you was enough for now. His eyes, wide with horror, stared up at you—the look of a man who knew these were his final moments. He pleaded, his voice cracking in desperation, his hands bound tightly behind his back as you stood there, unfazed.

Please.

I have a family. Think of my children.

Just let me go—I'll disappear, you'll never have to see me again.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? How a man could beg for mercy, could invoke the sanctity of family only when facing his own end. How a man could think that running away could solve everything, believing that his disappearance would erase the past and the suffering he caused.

No, that was a choice you didn’t have. The luxury of forgetting, of escaping the shadows that clung to your every step. Not only was his pleading in vain, it was insulting, as if the depth of his misdeeds could be washed away by mere absence. You wanted him gone. You wanted him dead.

So you gave him a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your expression was serene, almost angelic, but it belied the reality of your intentions as your heels echoed through the empty warehouse, a jug of gasoline in hand.

He screamed. Your smile widened. It was useless—no other soul was near enough to hear his cries, too far away to save him. His desperation filled the empty space once again as you poured the gasoline around him, drenching him in its sharp, pungent scent.

Then you took a step back, your hand reaching for the lighter in your pocket. There was a moment of hesitation as you watched him struggle. Could you really do this? Could you cross this final line?

But then the memories surged forward, vivid and painful. He was one of them, one of the people who had taken advantage of your innocence when you were young and naive, who had shattered your trust and left you to pick up the pieces alone, leaving scars that never truly healed.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

Your fingers tightened around the lighter. What a foolish man, who was he to think that a forced apology could undo the damage? With a steady hand, you flicked the lighter, the flame springing to life. His apologies continued, increasingly frantic, but they were nothing more than the desperate noise of a man who had run out of options, out of time.

You threw the lighter. The small flame sailed through the air, landing amidst the gasoline-soaked ground with a burst of fire. The flame caught instantly, erupting into a roaring blaze that engulfed him in a matter of seconds, drowning out his piercing scream.

You continued to watch his body burn, and perhaps for the very first time in your life, you felt a terrifying peace.

~*~

“This is the third body in a week,” Derek mentioned, stepping into the old factory as he slipped his sunglasses on top of his head, scanning the scene before him. It was disturbing. The stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

Spencer looked up from where he was crouched near what was left of the victim. “It’s getting more deliberate,” he observed. “The Unsub is trying to send a message.”

Derek moved closer, carefully stepping over a piece of evidence marked by the forensic team. “What are you thinking?”

He slowly stood up, his eyes assessing the place. There were actually a lot of things on his mind, and one of them being how this third victim seemed more calculated, more precise than the others. It was a stark contrast to the first victim, whose remains were found in a haphazard, chaotic state in that old warehouse.

But this one… everything was meticulously arranged, from the positioning of the body to the burn patterns that radiated outwards in a controlled manner. The Unsub was trying to perfect their methods in a short amount of time, and as much as Spencer hated to admit it, it was almost impressive.

“They want attention,” Spencer finally said, breaking the silence as he mulled over the crime scene. “They’re not just doing this for the sake of it; they’re communicating. Whatever message they’re trying to send, it’s getting closer with each victim.”

“You think they’re trying to tell us something?”

“No, I don’t think it’s aimed at us.” Spencer bit his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing in thought. “They’re trying to make a statement.”

“Like a public declaration?”

“Could be,” Spencer acknowledged, stepping back to view the scene from a different angle. “Or it could be a form of protest or revenge.”

“Burning people for revenge,” Derek mused, crossing his arms. “Now that’s a hell of a way to get a point across.”

“It’s deeply symbolic. Fire consumes everything, leaving nothing but ash. It’s final.” He looked up, his eyes meeting Derek’s. “Whoever is doing this is not just angry, they’re trying to erase their victims from existence.”

“Well, they’re doing a pretty good job at it, we haven’t identified any of them yet.”

Spencer frowned, his gaze dropping back to the scene in front of him. Identifying the first two victims had been nearly impossible due to the extent of the burns. The flames had consumed everything, leaving behind little more than brittle bones and ash. Dental records and DNA tests had been their only hope, and even those couldn’t identify the victims.

He continued to study the body, looking for anything that could help them. The burns were severe, almost total, but then something caught his eye. A faint mark, barely visible under the scorched skin. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out the details. There, peeking out from the blackened flesh on the victim’s forearm, partially obscured by the burns, was a small tattoo.

“I think we might have something,” he said, pointing to the mark.

Derek leaned in, his eyes widening slightly. “That looks like a tattoo.”

“You think we can get this to the lab?”

“We can,” Derek replied as he took out his phone and took a quick photo of it. “But we also have Garcia.”

Spencer watched as Derek quickly navigated through his contacts, his fingers moving with practiced ease. He tapped the screen, putting the phone close to his ear. It didn’t take long for the call to connect, and almost immediately, a familiar voice filled the brief silence through the speaker.

“I knew you couldn’t go a day without me,” Penelope’s unmistakable cheerful voice greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this delightful interruption?”

Derek couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “Garcia, we need your magic on a photo. There’s a partial tattoo on our latest victim, and we need to know if it matches anyone in the system.”

“Send it over and I’ll sprinkle some of my digital pixie dust on it.”

Derek attached the photo to a message and sent it directly to her. “It’s on its way.”

“Got it,” Penelope replied, her fingers already flying across her keyboard on the other end. “Okay, this might take a while, but I do have more information on our first victim, or I guess you can say, I have all the information that you need.”

“Our first John Doe is identified?”

“Rick Sullivan,” she confirmed. “He was reported missing a week ago by his wife. Turns out he has a bit of a past—multiple arrests for minor offenses, but nothing that would usually make him a target for this kind of violence.”

Spencer leaned closer to Derek’s phone. “Does he have any known associates or enemies that stand out?”

“Not on record,” Penelope said, her voice slightly muffled as she sifted through more files. “But listen to this, his bank transactions show some pretty hefty sums being spent regularly. Guess where most of it is going?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

"To an exclusive strip club on the east side of town called The Velvet Curtain,” she revealed. “Seems our Mr. Sullivan was quite the regular spender there.”

Derek smiled, shaking his head slightly. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Not nearly enough,” she replied with a playful lilt in her voice. “Keep the compliments coming and maybe I’ll dig up even more dirt for you.”

“We’ll need all the dirt we can get. Thanks, Garcia.”

“Always a pleasure, gentlemen. I’ll keep you updated if I find anything else,” she said before ending the call.

Derek turned to Spencer as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to see some strippers, Pretty Boy?”

Spencer glanced back at the charred remains. He’d seen too many bodies, too much senseless violence. There was nothing left that could shake him—not even the neon lights and dark corners of a strip club, or even the thought of being in a room surrounded by half-naked women. He could handle that. He could definitely handle that.

With a slight nod aimed at Derek, he followed him out of the building.

~*~

“Scarlett!” A voice rang through the dressing room. “You’re up in five!”

You swiped the red lipstick across your lips one last time, perfecting the bold arch that had become your signature look as your eyes swept over your reflection, eying the thin straps of your costume. The fabric was a deep, seductive red, almost the color of freshly drawn blood, and barely covered your skin. The material was sheer and see-through, leaving little to the imagination, something you preferred. Because the more skin you showed, the more you felt in control.

This was your armor, the persona you donned to hide the secrets buried beneath your glamorous exterior. As Scarlett, you were a siren. Untouchable. You had power and control, something your life outside these walls lacked.

“Scarlett!”

“I’m coming!” You snapped, capping the lipstick and placing it back in your makeup bag. You stood up, smoothing down your outfit, and made your way to the stage entrance.

The stage coordinator eyed you up and down. “No props for today?”

You shook your head, giving a confident smile. “Not today. I can manage without them.”

He nodded approvingly, moving to the side. “Alright, it's your cue."

You brushed past him and headed down the dimly lit corridor leading to the stage, the familiar rush of adrenaline surging through you. Taking one last deep breath, you finally stepped into the glow of the spotlight. The crowd's attention shifted to you, and you felt the power you had grown accustomed to, the control you desperately craved. The music pulsed through the air as you sauntered toward the pole at center stage.

You started to move.

Your fingers around the cold metal, and your body naturally found the beat as you began to dance seductively, letting the red fabric of your costume shimmer under the lights. A flirtatious smile played on your lips as you glanced around the room, locking eyes with a few patrons who watched. You slid down the pole, bending your knees and arching your back gracefully, biting back a smile as you heard the cheers and whistles from the crowd.

You took in the familiar faces and the usual gazes of admiration and desire, from the sleazy grins of regulars to the guilty looks of married men stealing away from home. But then, two men caught your attention, standing out starkly against the backdrop of the usual patrons.

One of them exuded confidence, his gaze steady and assessing as he watched your performance. The other, however, seemed out of place, his eyes darting around the room awkwardly. At first, he appeared uneasy, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and avoiding direct eye contact. But as you moved, dancing with the pole and letting your body sway to the rhythm, his gaze gradually settled on you. 

You had never seen him before. He was unexpectedly handsome, with soft curls that danced along the edges of his face and soft features that made him beautiful, almost angelic. But there was something more about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to blend in with the shadows, making him nearly invisible among the brasher, more excited crowd. His presence was so out of place and yet so focused on you that it spurred you on. 

With a teasing smile, you tugged at the thin strap of your top, playing with it as you danced. His eyes followed the movement, his breath catching slightly as you slowly slid the strap down your shoulder. The fabric slipped further, revealing more of your skin as you twirled around the pole. 

You then arched your back and bent low, the thin strap finally gave way, allowing your top to slide down your body, exposing your perky breasts to the crowd. His eyes widened slightly, but he couldn't look away. Neither could you. For a moment, it was just the two of you, locked in a silent exchange as the cheers and applause became a distant hum in the background.

You could see the conflict in his eyes—part fascination, part restraint—and it only made you bolder. You slipped the last piece of fabric down your legs, and with each sway of your hips, you drew him deeper into your world, determined to leave a mark on his memory.

~*~

“Just talked to the club owner,” Derek mentioned as he walked over to where Spencer stood, hiding in the corner of the room. “He gave us permission to question the dancers.”

Spencer nodded, but didn’t say anything. Derek raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… fine.”

Derek gave him a knowing look. “Your first time being at a place like this?”

Spencer’s gaze lingered on the stage. That would be a good excuse for why he was acting this way, but it wasn’t the truth. He grew up in Las Vegas, after all. Even though he rarely found himself in these types of scenes, he knew what went behind the walls. He was aware of what happened inside clubs, the performers, and the whole spectrum of human behavior. But he had never seen someone so… mesmerizing.

His mind was still processing the way you moved, the way you commanded the room with such effortless confidence. The way you shamelessly captivated everyone’s attention, including his.

No, it wasn’t the setting that threw him off—it was you.

“Reid?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here,” he managed, snapping back to the present. “So the dancers?”

Derek nodded, sensing Spencer’s momentary distraction but choosing not to comment.

“Yeah, we need to start talking to them. With these many dancers, I think it’s better we split up.” His eyes scanned the room. “You take the bar out here, and I’ll handle the lounge area. If any of them seem to know more or are hesitant to talk in front of others, we can bring them aside for a more private conversation.”

“Got it,” Spencer agreed. He straightened his tie and took a deep breath as he made his way directly to the bar, nodding politely to the bartender before turning to address the group of dancers gathered nearby.

“Excuse me, uh, hi there,” he greeted, showing them his badge. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI. I’d appreciate it if I could ask you a few questions.”

The dancers exchanged glances as Spencer cleared his throat, trying to appear composed. One of them, a tall woman with striking pink hair, stepped forward. “What do you need to know, Handsome?”

Spencer felt a flush creep up his neck, momentarily flustered by the directness. “Have any of you noticed anything unusual or seen anyone acting suspiciously in the past few weeks?”

The pink-haired woman looked him up and down, taking in his crisp suit and tie with a playful smile. “Well, the only unusual thing I’ve seen lately is a handsome FBI agent in a place like this.”

Her comment drew a few chuckles from the group, and Spencer felt a wave of awkwardness wash over him. He usually could handle a bit of teasing—he’d even interviewed sex workers who blatantly flirted with him before—but being surrounded by half-naked women, one of whom was actually topless, was making him feel distinctly out of place. His usual confidence was slipping away, replaced by a deep, uncomfortable blush.

Before he could respond, another dancer, this one with blue hair, joined in the teasing. “Aww, look at him blushing. Aren’t you just adorable?”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to refocus. “I, uh, appreciate your… observations. But really, any information about unusual behavior could be very helpful.”

One of them, with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned closer and asked in a flirty tone, “Would you like to find a private room for questioning, Doctor?”

His eyes widened. “W-What? No, no, I—”

“Ladies.”

Spencer turned around, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw you standing close to him, your sweet fragrance enveloping him. His heartbeat quickened, and he found it hard not to stare. You had changed from your performance attire into something slightly less revealing but no less captivating that Spencer had to remind himself to blink.

“Stop teasing the poor guy,” you said, addressing the dancers with a slight smirk.

“We were just being nice,” one of them protested, feigning innocence.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, let’s give him some space.”

The rest of the dancers giggled, picking up their drinks and retreating to another part of the club. You watched them leave before turning back to Spencer and gracefully took a seat on a stool where one of them had been.

“So,” you began, crossing one leg over the other, and Spencer made a conscious effort not to focus on how the fabric rode up your thighs. “I can’t help but overhear you’re with the FBI. I’m Scarlett.”

He stared at your outstretched hand but made no effort to take it. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ah,” you said, retracting your hand and placing it on your lap. “You’re that type of guy.”

“What do you mean?”

You tilted your head slightly, a wry smile playing on your lips. “You know, the type who might think less of this kind of job, of people who work in places like this."

Spencer shook his head quickly. “No, it’s not that. I grew up in Las Vegas, places like this don't surprise me. It's just that—l don't do handshakes. Personal preference, not a judgment."

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Well, studies show that handshakes transfer a significant amount of pathogens. It’s actually safer to kiss someone than to shake their hand.”

An amused smile played on your lips. “Is that your way of trying to kiss me, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck. “Uh, no, that’s not what I meant at all,” he stammered. “I just meant, scientifically speaking, it’s… safer.”

“Of course.” You chuckled, leaning back slightly. “So what brings the FBI here?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “We’re here to gather information about one of your customers.”

“Who?”

“Do you know anyone by the name Rick Sullivan?”

“Know him? He practically lives at the end of the bar some nights.” Your eyes swept over the empty seat where Rick usually occupied. “Although he hasn’t come here in a while, his wife probably decided to put her foot down."

“Do you remember anything unusual about his behavior or if he mentioned anything out of the ordinary recently?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged. “He was always pretty quiet. But now that you mention it, a few weeks ago, he seemed more on edge than usual. Kept looking over his shoulder like he was expecting someone.”

“Did he ever talk to anyone in particular, or did anyone strange approach him?”

You shook your head. “Not that I noticed. But then again, it gets pretty busy here. Hard to keep track of every interaction.”

Spencer nodded at the information. “Is there anyone who seemed particularly close with him here?”

“I don’t think so. He’s friendly with some of the regulars, but no one stood out. He mostly keeps to himself unless he’s buying drinks for the dancers.” You watched him, noticing the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought and you couldn’t help but ask, “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but don’t you have to write all this down?”

Spencer glanced at you, a small smile forming on his lips. "I have a good memory. I'll remember everything you've told me."

"Really? Do you have a photographic memory or something?"

"Eidetic, actually.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s impressive. So basically you’ll remember anything?”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, I can recall detailed images and information with high precision.”

“Alright, I want you to remember this then,” you said, leaning in slightly. You recited a series of numbers, your voice smooth and confident.

He looked genuinely confused. “What’s that?”

“My number.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Oh.”

“There’s a rule against sharing personal information while working here,” you explained, leaning in a bit closer, “But you can save it under Y/N. That’s my real name.”

Spencer found himself momentarily mesmerized by your proximity, the scent of your perfume, and the intensity of your gaze. He blinked, trying to maintain his composure.

“Y/N,” he repeated softly, as if committing it to memory.

You smiled. “Exactly. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t,” he assured you as you slipped off the stool and the space between you momentarily vanished. For a brief, unexpected second, your body lightly pressed against his. The contact was fleeting but there was an unspoken tension that seemed to pause the noise around you.

The closeness brought a rush of warmth, and your eyes locked with his. “Do you like jazz music, Dr. Reid?”

He frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Um, I don’t really listen to music.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” you replied with a playful smile. “There’s a great spot not too far from here. They have live bands on the weekends.”

“What… what are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to ask you out on a date.”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he processed your words. “Oh,” he stammered, clearly taken aback by your boldness. He hesitated, his mind racing to catch up with the situation. “I, uh, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?”

He swallowed, looking a bit flustered. “It’s not that. It’s just… there are boundaries, and I’m supposed to remain professional.”

“Ah, I see. But if you decide to change your mind…” You moved closer, reaching out to fix his crooked tie, your fingers brushing lightly against the fabric. “I’ll be at the Blue Moon on Saturday around 9 p.m., sitting at the bar in a red dress with a drink in my hand.”

Spencer’s breath hitched slightly as he tensed but didn’t pull away, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“I hope you do, Dr. Reid.” You took a step back, your hand lingering for a moment before you let go of his tie. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there as he watched you blend into the crowd, conflicted and unexpectedly aroused.

~*~

You weren’t sure what you were trying to do. Asking an FBI agent out on a date went against every rule you had set for yourself. You were supposed to keep your distance, to remain anonymous and untouchable. It was safer that way, for both you and your secrets. Yet, here you were, sipping your drink as you waited for a man who represented everything you should be avoiding.

A part of you questioned your sanity. What was it about him that made you break your own rules? It was reckless, foolish even. Getting involved with someone like Spencer Reid could only complicate things.

But there was something about him. Maybe it was the curiosity in his eyes, the way he seemed both out of place and perfectly composed at the same time. Or perhaps it was the way he treated you with a respect and sincerity that you hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever it was, it had been enough to make you take this risk.

But now, as you sat by the bar alone an hour later, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been a mistake. The minutes had ticked by slowly, and you tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that maybe you had misjudged him. Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and maybe that was for the best.

Just as you were about to give up and leave, the door to your side opened. You turned, not daring to hope, and there he was—looking slightly disheveled and out of breath, but undeniably there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a small, relieved smile crossed his face.

“Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. “I’m sorry I’m late, I got held up at work and I didn’t want to come empty handed, so…”

Your eyes drifted towards the simple bouquet of white lilies in his hand. “Are those for me?”

Spencer nodded, extending the flowers towards you. “Yes, they are,” he replied. “I didn’t know what you’d like, and I thought lilies are a safe choice because they’re elegant and not too overwhelming, but then I started thinking maybe roses would have been better, but then roses can be a bit too—”

You cut him off with a warm smile, gently taking the bouquet from him. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like them.”

You placed the lilies on the bar and gestured to the seat beside you. “Come here, you look like you just ran a marathon.”

“It felt like it,” he admitted, taking the seat right next to you. “I really didn’t want to be late.”

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You slightly leaned back and studied him. “I’m actually surprised you changed your mind.”

Spencer glanced at you. “I… I guess I realized I didn’t want to miss the chance to get to know you.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “What do you want to know about me?”

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, actually. He wanted to know your story, why you chose your job, and who you were beneath this confident exterior. But that was all too much for a first date. Glancing around the room, he decided to start with something simpler and said, “Start with how you know this place.”

You smiled, looking around the familiar setting. “I found it a few years ago. I was walking aimlessly down the road one night after work and stumbled this place. It’s become my little escape since then.”

“I can see why." His eyes drifted towards the band playing live music and the few patrons mesmerized by the soft tune. "It’s definitely got a charm to it.”

You leaned in slightly. “Do you have any secret escapes?”

He looked back at you. “Not really. My escapes aren’t quite as charming. Mostly books and chess. They're not exactly thrilling.”

“Books and chess?” you asked, tapping your finger on the bar. “You really are a nerd.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a man of knowledge,” he replied with a shy yet proud smile.

“Well, intelligence is attractive, and not only that, it’s also very sexy." You laughed when you noticed him slightly squirming. “Do you have any other hidden talents I should know about?”

He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “I’m actually pretty good at magic tricks. It’s something I picked up as a kid.”

“Now that’s a talent I didn’t expect,” you observed, your eyes lighting up. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I’d be happy to,” he replied enthusiastically. “What about you? What’s your hidden talent?”

You grinned. “I can make a pretty mean lasagna. And I’m good at dancing, but you might have already guessed that.”

Spencer suddenly felt the warmth spreading along his face as he remembered your performance on stage the other day. His mind flashed back to the way you moved with such confidence, the undeniable sex appeal you exuded effortlessly, and he could feel his cheeks heating up.

“Yeah, I, uh, definitely noticed,” he admitted.

“I hope that means you were impressed.”

Spencer nodded, still a bit flustered but managing a smile. “Very impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” you noted, leaning closer to him. “How about you? Do you dance, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the question. “I’m not nearly as skilled as you are,” he confessed. “My dance moves are more… theoretical. More of an exercise in coordination than something you’d want to see in action.”

The image of this authority figure awkwardly dancing in his suit made you smile.

“Now this I need to see.” Sliding off the stool, you extended your hand towards him. “Dance with me.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely,” you replied. “Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

You waited, half-expecting him to decline considering he didn’t even want to shake your hand the last time you saw him. But then, to your surprise, he took a deep breath and placed his hand in yours.

You couldn’t help but smile as he stood up and let you lead him to a small open space near the bar, slipping in between other couples swaying to the music as the band played a lively, upbeat tune.

“Okay, put your hand here,” you instructed, guiding his hand to rest lightly on your waist. You took his other hand in yours and began to sway gently to the rhythm, leading him in a basic two-step.

Spencer tried to follow, his movements slightly awkward at first. “I’m not sure I’m doing this right.”

“You’re doing fine,” you reassured him, smiling up at him. “Just trust your instinct.”

“My instinct is to find the nearest exit door.”

“No escaping tonight. You’re stuck with me,” you teased, your other hand holding onto his shoulder. “Besides, I think you’re doing pretty well for someone who claims to be bad at dancing.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his confidence growing slightly. “You think so?”

“Yep,” you replied, giving him a grin. “In fact, I’d say you’re almost a natural.”

“Almost?” he echoed, a teasing note in his voice. “What do I need to do to earn the proper title?”

“Maybe a spin?” You suggested, already positioning yourself lightly. With an encouraging nod, you prompted him, and he took the cue, lifting his arm and carefully guiding you into a smooth spin under his hold. You twirled gracefully and came back into his arms, beaming up at him.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Pretty impressive.”

He smiled, and a warmth spread through you, a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. It was wrong, you knew that. You knew you were stepping into dangerous territory, blurring lines that should remain clear. But at that moment, all those concerns seemed distant and unimportant, especially when the music suddenly turned slower.

The soft, sultry notes of a saxophone filled the air as you moved closer to him, gently grabbing his hands before guiding them to rest behind your back.

“Now this,” you began, moving your arms around his neck. “Is how you dance to a slow song.”

Spencer smiled, a genuine, soft expression that made his whole features light up. He pulled you gently against his chest. “I think I prefer this type of dance better.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt. “Me too.”

You felt a hand press gently on your lower back, drawing you even closer as you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He smelled of fresh soap and something sweet, like vanilla or honey—a combination that you could easily find yourself getting addicted to.

The thought surprised you. For someone who loathed men, who had built a life around a cold, calculated revenge against them, you found Spencer oddly comforting. It was unsettling how natural it felt to be this close to him, how safe he made you feel.

You could almost laugh at the irony. Here you were, a woman fueled by a desire for vengeance, finding solace in the arms of a man. It was reckless. Dangerous. You needed to keep your head in the game. Allowing yourself to get distracted, to feel these warm, tender emotions, was a risk you couldn’t afford.

But as you pressed your face closer to the crook of his neck, it became increasingly difficult to push him away. You knew you had to be cautious. You knew you needed to keep your head clear, your focus sharp, and you promised yourself that you would.

But not now. Not when his touch made you feel something you hadn’t felt in years. For now, you allowed yourself to surrender to the moment, to the warmth of his embrace, to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, and to the fleeting sense of peace that felt so foreign yet so desperately needed.

~*~

Spencer wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. He found himself awkwardly moving close to you, then pulling back, reaching out as if to take your hand, then stopping himself. The hesitation gnawed at him, torn between wanting to hold your hand and maintaining a respectful distance.

Was it too soon? Was there a rule about holding hands on the first date?

He mentally sifted through his limited experiences, trying to recall any useful advice or guidelines. But all he could think about was how natural it had felt to dance with you, to be close to you. He glanced over, catching the soft glow of the streetlights across your face. You looked serene, content, and he wished he could just follow his instincts without second-guessing every move.

“What?” You asked without looking at him. “Why are you staring at me?

He quickly directed his gaze away from you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You turned to him with a small, amused smile. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I was just curious.”

He hesitated as you both continued to walk, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps blending with the quiet night. Finally, he decided to be honest. “I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment. I guess I’m not very good with this sort of thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I wanted to hold your hand,” he blurted, his face flushing slightly. “But I wasn’t sure if it was too soon. I didn’t want to seem too forward or make you uncomfortable. I’m sure there’s a whole rule to this that I don’t know about, and I’ve been overthinking it the entire walk.”

You chuckled softly. “Spencer, you don’t need to worry so much.”

He took a deep breath. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… can I hold your hand?”

“Of course, you can,” you replied. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up as he reached out, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. You laughed at his boyish smile. “So this is why you’ve been silent this whole time?”

“I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“And here I thought you didn’t want to talk to me because you didn’t enjoy my company.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, not at all! I was just worried about doing something wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong tonight.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face. “Really?”

“Well, except for making me wait for a whole hour.”

He winced at your words. “Sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Don’t worry. The flowers were worth the wait,” you said, holding up the bouquet in your other hand. “And besides, I enjoyed dancing with you, I had a great time talking to you, and now you’re walking me home, which is definitely a bonus point.”

“So you’re keeping scores?” He asked, finding this conversation amusing. “What’s my score now?”

You pretended to think, a smile playing on your lips. “Well, punctuality could use some work, but excellent choice in flowers, charming dance skills, and chivalrous escort service? I’d say you’re doing quite well. Maybe an eight out of ten?”

“An eight? What happened to the last two points?”

“You need to earn them.”

“How?”

You slowed your pace, pulling him to a stop under a streetlight.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. He hesitated for a moment, then complied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he shut his eyes.

“Okay. Now what?”

You stood on your toes, trying to match his height, and leaned in close. Then, with a quick flutter of excitement, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His eyes widened in surprise. “I—uh, what—”

You just laughed, a light and carefree sound that cut through the night. “You just gained another point, Dr. Reid.”

Before he knew it, you turned and dashed away, your laughter trailing behind you playfully. He couldn't help but smile at the sound, and, almost without thinking, he started chasing after you.

Spencer wasn't sure why he was running, or even why this felt like the most natural thing to do, but he didn't care. Your laughter was infectious, and when he finally caught up, wrapping his arms around your waist, he couldn't stop laughing.

"Got you," he said, grinning as he met your gaze.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, taking in the way you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. There was a certain glow about you, a warmth that seemed to radiate across your face. His gaze then drifted down to your lips, slightly parted and still bearing the sweetest smile he had ever seen, and he felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest.

He liked seeing you like this. You always looked so confident and poised, but now you seemed... happy. There was a lightness in your eyes that he hadn't seen before, and like a moth to a flame, he wanted to bask in your warmth.

Without thinking, he slowly closed the gap between you, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. The world seemed to hold its breath as he leaned in, and then, gently, he kissed you.

Your lips were so soft.

He had imagined they would be, but not like this—not as delicate, not as perfectly in sync with his. The sensation was more than he had ever expected, more than he had allowed himself to hope for. His tongue gently traced your bottom lip, and the soft moan that escaped you urged him even further.

He pulled you closer, and you parted your lips to invite him in. The moment his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he was lost in the rush of flavors and sensations. Your tongues danced together, exploring, tasting, savoring every second while everything around him started to blur into shadows and muffled sounds.

He was so engrossed, so utterly consumed by the taste of you, that he completely forgot he was standing in the middle of a bustling sidewalk. It wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of a throat being cleared that reality snapped back into focus. Pulling slightly away, he turned his head towards the sound and met the stern gaze of an older woman passing by.

“Sorry,” he muttered, feeling incredibly flustered. The woman simply huffed and continued on her way, shaking her head.

You giggled as you reached up to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his mouth. “I thought you weren’t good with this sort of thing.”

“I’m not,” he assured you, his thumb gently brushing your sides. “This is... definitely a first for me.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying you don’t usually make out with girls on busy sidewalks?”

The laugh he let out sounded almost ludicrous, as if the image of him kissing girls in public seemed completely out of character, out of place—until now, to his surprise.

“Nope, can’t say that I do.”

You smiled and tugged on his arm. “Come on.”

You walked together, and Spencer took your hand again. His grip tightened slightly, almost unconsciously, as if he wanted to imprint the way your hand felt into his memory. He was acutely aware of the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers fit perfectly with his. And this sense of wanting to hold onto you grew even stronger when you finally arrived at your building.

“This is me,” you said softly, turning to face him.

He looked down at your intertwined hands. “This is you.”

There was a brief, tense silence before you softly called out his name. He met your gaze, and dear god, how could he let go when you looked at him like that? He was mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled under the light, the soft curve of your smile, the gentle confidence in your stance.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you going to ask how you can earn your last point?”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your question, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright,” he said. “How can I earn my last point?”

Then he saw it, the same glint in your eyes that he had noticed when you were dancing on stage. It was a look filled with flirtation, exuding sex appeal and confidence. The way your eyes sparkled under the ambient light, the subtle but assured smile playing on your lips, all pointed to someone who knew exactly what they were doing and enjoyed the game just as much as the outcome.

“Well,” you started. “How about you come upstairs and we can figure it out together?”

Spencer’s heart raced at your words. He might not have had much experience when it came to dating, but he knew the look on your face all too well because he was sure he had the same expression. His eyes fell to your lips.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Because you’re trying to remain professional?” You asked, recalling his exact words the other night. “Spencer, I think you’ve long forgotten about that the moment you agreed to spend the evening with me.”

He felt a rush of warmth at your words, realizing just how right you were. The boundaries he usually upheld seemed irrelevant now, replaced by the desire to be closer to you. He sighed, the tension easing slightly as he admitted, “I guess you’re right.”

You stepped closer, your smile seductive. “So, how about we stop worrying about what’s appropriate and just enjoy ourselves?”

He was going to regret this.

“What do you have in mind?”

He was really going to regret this.

“I think you already know what I have in mind.”

Oh, screw it. If regret was the price he had to bear, then he was willing to pay it.

~*~

The crowd pulsed when you stepped out into the main area, heels clicking sharply against the floor. You took in the scene before you, passing sleazy men, some slipping tips to a dancer on stage, others getting lap dances in the dimly lit corners. A group of men in sharp suits whistled when they spotted you, and you winked at them, flipping your hair back with a playful gesture before continuing on.

You could feel heavy stares watching your every move, but despite being in a room full of men, there was only one man you had your eyes on.

You spotted him by the bar with a drink in his hand, and despite your meticulous planning to bring him back here to observe him, the sight of the man who ripped off your dreams as a naive sixteen-year-old girl never failed to ignite a burning rage within you. You wondered whether his memory was as vivid as yours, if he remembered the disgusting things he had done. But there was never any sign of recognition in his eyes, just as there hadn’t been in the eyes of the three before him.

They all thought you were just a woman trying to make ends meet, working every night in this dark place by taking your clothes off on stage. To them, you were just another pretty face, another body to gawk at. They believed you were just another girl trapped in the cycle of survival, oblivious to the deadly game you were playing.

You had crafted this persona carefully, every move, every word designed to lure them in, to make them feel comfortable, even powerful. They had no idea that you held their fate in your hands. You made them think they were taking advantage of a desperate woman, but in reality, they were the ones being manipulated, guided like pawns towards their inevitable downfall.

And tonight, it was his turn. The last of the men who had tainted your innocence.

You slipped into the empty stool beside him, a coy smile playing on your lips. “I thought I saw a familiar face.”

He turned towards you, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, your voice a soft purr. The words were easy, almost natural.

“You’ve been quite the distraction for me,” he admitted. “Couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You laughed lightly. “Good, because I aim to please.”

“And you’re very pleasing to look at,” he agreed, his eyes tracing the curve of your smile. “You have a way of captivating an audience.”

“Well, it’s nice to know I have such a dedicated fan.” You leaned loser so your shoulders brushed. “What brings you here tonight? A fight with the missus?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. She’s out of town.”

You knew that already. You knew his schedule as well as he did, if not better. But you feigned innocence, like you always did.

“Lucky me then,” you replied with a flirtatious tilt of your head. “It means I get to have you all to myself tonight.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, his eyes roaming over you with undisguised interest. “I really couldn’t stop thinking about you lately.”

You leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. “Really? What exactly have you been thinking?”

“I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to spend some real time with you. Away from the club.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what exactly would we do with that time?”

His hand brushed against your thigh under the table, a bold move that was more telling than any words. “I think you know what I mean.”

You pulled back slightly, giving him a flirtatious look. “You know it’s against the rules to do anything too... personal here. The club has strict policies about that sort of thing.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping for more than just a dance.”

You smiled slyly, your eyes locking onto his with a promise. “Who says we have to stay here?”

His grin widened. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brushing your fingers along his arm. “We could go somewhere else…” you murmured, your hand continuing a path up his shoulder, tracing the line of his suit jacket. “Somewhere we can really enjoy each other’s company.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your suggestion. “Like where?”

You let your lips brush his ear. “How about your place? Your wife isn't there, we can use it however we want.”

There was a pause as he considered your words. You could see the wheels turning, the temptation playing across his face. Sensing his uncertainty, you placed your hand gently on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your fingertips.

“Think about it,” you coaxed softly, your voice a seductive whisper. “Just you and me, no rules, no eyes watching...” Your body inched closer to his. “It’ll be our little secret.”

His eyes darkened with anticipation, the earlier reluctance fading away under your touch. “Alright,” he said after a brief pause. “Let’s go back to my place.”

You smiled triumphantly, standing up, brushing the nonexistent dust on his shoulders. “Meet me at the back exit in five. I need to grab my purse.”

He nodded excitedly as he watched you walk away, mesmerized by the confidence in the sway of your hips. But the moment you stepped into the dressing room, your façade cracked.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, taking a deep breath as you fought to keep your composure. The walls seemed to close in, the air thinning around you as if suffocating you under the weight of your own emotions. Your breath became shallow, the world spinning slightly as a wave of dizziness and anger overwhelmed you all at once.

You slowly forced yourself to move, your feet dragging you over towards the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was almost unrecognizable. The confident, seductive woman from moments was now replaced with a figure trembling under the weight of her memories.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the past rushed back in a wave of emotion. The image of the young girl you once were, the girl whose dreams had been shattered by the man waiting for you outside, seemed to blend itself over your reflection. The pain, the anger, the helplessness—it all came flooding back, threatening to overwhelm you.

But you couldn’t let it. Not now.

Wiping away the tears with the back of your hand, you straightened up, forcing yourself to take deep, steadying breaths. You grabbed your purse and checked its contents one last time, making sure everything was in place, and checked your phone.

There was a message.

Your eyes welled up with tears again as you saw the name glaring back at you.

Dr. Reid :)

Just seeing his name was breaking your heart. He had been trying to contact you for days now, ever since that night you spent together. The night that had been a brief, beautiful distraction from the dark path you were on. He was kind, gentle, and you couldn’t stop thinking of the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. 

Each message was harder to ignore than the last, and he wasn’t just reaching out; he was trying to reach in. His words were always kind, always thoughtful.

I had a great time. Can we meet again?

Just thinking about you. Hope you're okay. 

Did you know sea otters hold hands when they sleep to keep from drifting apart?

His random messages of facts always made you smile because it was so authentically him—something you had never encountered before. And every time he tried to contact you, the walls you had carefully constructed around your heart began to crack. You longed to reach out to him, to relive those short moments of happiness that had brought a rare light into your life. But you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, it would only weaken your resolve.

So you had been avoiding him, giving excuses about being busy or not feeling well. His presence had a way of grounding you, and you couldn’t afford that now, not when you were so close to the end.

Your eyes fell to your phone again. Despite the knot tightening in your stomach, despite knowing how much it would hurt, you clicked open the message.

Can I see you tonight?

The words on the screen blurred as your grip tightened. A part of you wanted to see him again, to have his arms wrapped around your body, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. But surrendering to these desires would only put you in danger. It was only a matter of time until he saw through your act, and until then, you needed to move fast.

Because you knew that if you let him in, if you opened that door, you wouldn't be able to follow through with your plan. The plan that had consumed you for so long, and now with the final act right in front of you, you couldn't afford any distractions.

So you took a deep breath and crafted another lie.

I have work tonight. I'm sorry.

~*~

Spencer stared at the message, a frown creasing his forehead. Had he done something wrong?

He couldn't shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. He replayed the evening in his mind, analyzing every detail, every word exchanged. It had felt perfect to him—the connection, the chemistry. But now, your constant excuses and distant responses gnawed at him. Had he misread everything? Had he been too forward, or was there something he had missed?

"Reid?" Derek's voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbled, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You were saying?”

Derek opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Penelope entered the conference room with a laptop in her hand. "You guys are gonna love me," she sang, setting the device down.

“You found anything?” Derek asked.

“Remember that blurry picture of the tattoo you sent me a few days ago?” she turned her laptop screen towards them, showing a detailed emblem that was now clearly visible. "This isn't just any tattoo—it's mandatory for the members of a local club known for their… exclusive membership.”

“What kind of club?”

Penelope clicked through a few more screens, bringing up information she had compiled. “It’s a bit underground, not your typical social club. It appears to be part social, part cultural, but there are hints of something more... let's just say, illegal activities.”

“And all members have this tattoo?”

“Yep, it’s like a symbol of loyalty, almost like a badge of honor.”

Spencer felt a knot tightening in his stomach. “Is it… The Velvet Curtain?”

Penelope shook her head, typing quickly to bring up a comparison on her screen. 

“No, The Velvet Curtain is just a fancy, exclusive strip club. This one, on the other hand…” She paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she chose her words carefully, “...is much more secretive and, from what I can tell, much more dangerous. Think less about glamour and more about power and control."

“What kind of activities are we talking about?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual gambling and trafficking,” Penelope said dryly, scrolling through her screen. “I think you guys should check this out after we wrap up the case.”

Derek ignored her jab and crossed his arms. “So our victim can be anyone, which doesn't narrow it down much.” He turned to Penelope. “How many members are we talking about?”

“Over three hundred registered members.”

He let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of numbers.”

“Have you tried cross-referencing the members with Rick Sullivan?" Spencer suggested. "He might be our best lead.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Penelope’s fingers flew over the keyboard as she pulled up new data. After a few moments, she exclaimed, “Got it!”

Derek leaned in. “We have a name?”

Penelope quickly brought up a profile. “James Dalton, went to college with Rick. Mid-30s, a manager at a tech firm, lives in the suburbs with his family…” She trailed off, her eyes widening. “...and was reported missing a week ago.”

Spencer frowned, piecing it together. “He could be our John Doe.”

Penelope nodded, already typing away. “I’m cross-referencing his dental records and fingerprints as we speak.”

“You can do that?”

“You underestimate me, pretty boy,” she quipped with a smirk, her fingers flying over the keyboard. It didn't take long for her screen to flash with the confirmation she needed. “It’s a match. James Dalton is our John Doe. The dental records line up perfectly.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as they absorbed the news. Derek ran a hand over his face, breaking the silence with a sigh. “Did Rick and James ever contact each other after college?”

Penelope shook her head, scrolling through her data. “No, there’s no evidence of any recent communications. It looks like they hadn't been in touch for years until... well, until whatever pulled them back together recently.”

Spencer leaned closer to get a better view of Penelope’s screen. “Can you check his bank records? There could be any mutual transactions between them.”

“Pulling up his financials now,” she said, her eyes scanning the data that populated her screen. Moments later, she pointed at a series of numbers. “There are no mutual transactions… oh wow.”

“What is it?”

“He spent a lot of money over the past few months,” Penelope continued, her eyes wide with surprise. “We’re talking significant amounts.”

“Where?”

She looked up at him. “The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt the blood drain from his body. It was as if a heavy, sinking feeling took hold, the kind that grips the stomach and pulls down hard. At first, he thought of your safety. The club you worked at was linked to the case, and worse, even directly to the victims. This connection sent chills down his spine, filling him with dread.

But the more he thought about it, especially when his mind replayed how you had been avoiding him lately, the worse his feelings grew. His concern turned into suspicion, and then that suspicion morphed into a sense of betrayal. Were you involved in this? Were you hiding something from him?

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t let his mind go there. You wouldn’t do that. You couldn’t. You were too kind, too genuine. There had to be another explanation.

“Reid, let’s go.”

Spencer looked up to see Derek standing by the door. “Where?”

“We need to go back there,” Derek said firmly. “We’re missing something.”

Spencer’s badge felt heavier than usual, the gun on his hip weighing him down. His mind was clouded with doubt, his heart pounding with anxiety. He always considered himself as someone who was confident when it came to his job, a man of knowledge who could win an argument with facts and logic. But now the lines of right and wrong seemed to blurred and he found himself questioning even his own judgment.

He let out a heavy breath. There was nothing else he could do but to follow Derek out of the room. He needed to see this through, for justice, for his peace of mind, and perhaps, for your innocence he hoped to prove.

~*~

You weren’t here. 

I have work tonight, I’m sorry.

You weren’t here.

Spencer was trying to come up with excuses for your disappearance. Maybe you got sick. Maybe there was an emergency. His mind went through plausible scenarios, but none seemed to fit quite right, and his curiosity continued to gnaw at him. He braced himself and approached the club owner, hoping to gain some information under the pretense of connecting you as a witness.

The man, with a burly frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and a scowl etched on his face, barely let Spencer get the words out.

“She was here,” the owner grumbled. “Her set was half an hour ago and I haven’t seen her since. If I find out she’s skipping out on work again…” He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.

Spencer felt his heart sank. “Again?”

He nodded gruffly. “Yeah, she’s been a bit unreliable lately. Shows up late, leaves early. It’s becoming a problem.”

“Did she mention anything to you?”

“She never says much. Keeps to herself mostly. If she’s in some kind of trouble, she’s not talking about it.” He gave Spencer a once-over. “You know her personally?”

Caught off-guard, Spencer quickly shook his head. “No. I’ve just heard she might have some useful information on the case we’re working on.”

The owner seemed to accept this, nodding slightly. “Well, good luck with that. If you find her, tell her she’s got some explaining to do.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him even more. The pressure in his chest was almost suffocating. He knew he needed to focus on trying to find out anything about James Dalton, but his mind kept turning to you, unable to shake the fear that something terrible had happened, or worse, or worse, that you might somehow be involved. 

“What was that all about?”

He looked up to see Derek watching him closely. “Nothing.”

Derek studied him for a moment, noting the slight shift in his demeanor, the way his eyes darted away. “Reid, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine."

“You know you can talk to me if something’s up, right?”

“I know,” he snapped. Then he sighed, his expression softening. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just focus on the case.”

Derek studied him for a moment longer, wanting to press further, but was stopped when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, saw Penelope’s name, and quickly switched it to speaker.

“Found something new?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Penelope's voice came through with urgency. “Have you found anything interesting yet?”

“No, nothing solid on our end,” Derek replied, glancing at Spencer who remained focused but visibly tense. “What did you find?"

“I think you should take this somewhere private,” Penelope suggested cautiously.

Derek nodded, catching Spencer’s eye and motioning for him to follow. They navigated through the bustling backstage area, moving past busy staff and performers until they spotted an empty dressing room. He ushered Spencer inside and shut the door behind them.

“We’re out of earshot,” Derek confirmed, his tone low. “Go ahead.”

“Alright, listen,” Penelope began, her voice serious. “I’ve been digging into the pasts of the two victims we identified and I found something disturbing that was buried deep in their college history. It took a lot of digging because it was almost completely erased from the public record.”

“What did you find?”

“There were reports of a group of men, including Sullivan and Dalton, who were accused of sexually assaulting a high school student who was a minor. The details were sketchy and it seems there was a significant effort to cover it up. The case never went to trial, the reports were sealed.”

“How many men were involved?” 

“Four. Sullivan, Dalton, Mark Eldridge, and Robert Lawson.” There were some clicking noises in the background before Penelope continued, “Mark Eldridge was reportedly missing a few days ago, and I cross-checked his dental records with our second John Doe—it was a match.”

Derek let out a sigh. “This looks like some kind of revenge plot.” He ran a hand over his face, the weight of the situation sinking in. “What can you tell us about Lawson?”

Penelope quickly typed in a few commands. “Robert Lawson lives on the outskirts of town. He’s maintained a low profile over the years, but nothing in his recent history suggests he’s aware of the danger he might be in.”

Derek nodded, absorbing the information. “Alright, send us his address. We need to get to him before the Unsub does.”

“Sending it now,” Penelope confirmed.

“Garcia?”

Derek looked up to see Spencer standing at the edge of the room, staring blankly at a spot on the wall. His posture was tense, his face pale, and his breathing uneven. It was the most uncharacteristic of him Derek had ever seen.

“Who was the victim?” Spencer asked, his voice low, almost strained.

There was a brief pause as Penelope searched through her files. “Y/N L/N,” she answered quietly. “She was a high school student at the time, just sixteen. The case was buried deep, but it’s all here—she was threatened, her family was paid off, and the whole thing was hushed up.”

Derek felt a chill run down his spine. “And where is she now?”

Another pause, this one more tense, as Penelope gathered the final piece of information.

“She’s a dancer at The Velvet Curtain.”

Spencer felt his world tilt. The realization hit him like a freight train, his heart dropping like a stone into the depths of his stomach. It was as if the ground beneath his feet had turned to ice, sending him slipping into a dizzying spin of shock and disbelief. The pieces clicked together with the painful precision of a knife twisting in his gut. All the clues that had seemed disconnected before suddenly formed a clear, devastating picture. 

“Reid.”

He couldn’t breathe, his chest tight with a constricting panic. The room closed in around him, the walls seeming to press closer with each labored breath.

“Reid.”

The reality made him feel sick.

“Reid!”

He needed to get out of here.

His feet carried him toward the door, pushing him outside to breathe. The fresh air hit his face, but it did little to ease the heaviness in his lungs.

“Reid, I need you to talk to me,” Derek’s voice followed behind him.

Spencer leaned against the cool brick wall, trying to steady his racing heart and chaotic thoughts. He struggled to find the words, the horror of the situation crashing over him like a relentless wave.

“What happened?”

He stared at Derek through blurry eyes. “It’s her,” he managed to choke out. “I-I didn’t know it was her…”

“Reid.” Derek stepped closer, gripping his shoulders. “Breathe.”

Spencer looked up at him, the pain suffocating his chest, building up inside until he couldn’t hold it back any longer. The words began tumbling out of his lips.

He told him everything. How you approached him that first night they came to the club, how you stood out in the crowd. He described the spark in your eyes when you had asked him out on a date and how hesitant he was at first until his curiosity got the better of him.

He recalled that night, how he felt a connection he hadn't known was missing. He told Derek about the conversations you shared, the laughter between you, and how deeply fulfilling it felt to be with someone who seemed to truly get him, a happiness he hadn't known before.

Derek stared at him when he finished. There was no judgment in his eyes, far from it, but what Spencer saw was even worse—it was pity.

“Reid…”

Spencer shook his head, trying to dismiss Derek’s sympathy that made him feel so exposed. “I know what this looks like,” he cut in quickly. “But you have to understand, it felt—everything with her felt real.”

“I know, I know. I believe you, man, it’s just—”Derek sighed. “You’re too involved in this.”

Spencer met his gaze. “I never wanted to be this involved.”

Derek let out another sigh, something he couldn’t stop doing when the person he considered as his little brother was going through so much pain. He took out his phone from his pocket. “Look, let me call Hotch and tell him to send someone else—”

Spencer quickly grabbed Derek’s arm, stopping him from dialing. “No,” he insisted. “I need to do this. I want to see her.”

“I don’t think—“

“I have to,” Spencer pleaded. “I need to. I can’t… I just… I need to see her.”

“Reid, she’s dangerous. She’s killed three men before, and there’s a chance she might do the same to you.”

Spencer shook his head. “What she’s doing is for revenge, you said that yourself. She won’t hurt me.”

“But—“

“Morgan, please,” Spencer interrupted, the desperation clear in his voice. “Let me talk to her. This might be my only chance.”

Derek watched him closely, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes. It was clear Spencer wasn’t going to back down, and understanding this, he finally gave in.

“Fine. But we’re taking every precaution, okay? You’re not going in alone.” Spencer nodded gratefully. “And I’m still calling for backup.”

“Of course,” he agreed, watching Derek turn around.

Spencer silently followed him back to the car as he replayed every moment without you. He tried to search for any clues he might have missed, wondering how he had been so blind, so caught up in his feelings. The thought of you being the one behind those murders was too much for him to bear, yet he knew he had to confront you. He had to know why you did it. He had to know whether any of those moments you shared together was as magical for you as it was for him, even though he was scared of the answers, of this new, cruel reality.

He just had to see you, no matter how painful it might be.

~*~

Your last victim was the easiest. You’d think he would have struggled a bit, or maybe he’d see right through your act. After all, this wasn’t the first time he had seen you, and sure, you might have looked different, but you still had the same features from when you were young. Your eyes. Your smile. You were still you, just older.

But he never noticed, because as soon as you started to seduce him, he was just like the others. All they sought was your body, or the thought of it, the fantasy they spun so easily in their minds. You realized that another thing that hadn’t changed was their disgusting perception of you, not as a person, but as an object for their desires.

Despite their oblivious nature, it came to your benefit. It was easy to put the drug in his drink, not much, but enough to make him drowsy. Enough for his body to go limp so you could tie his hands behind his back easily. You could see his brows creasing as he struggled to keep his eyes open. You knew the sedative was starting to get to his brain.

You managed to drag his body to his study. You had pulled him by his feet, his head occasionally bumping along the floor. He groaned but didn’t do much, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. His eyes, heavy and confused, flickered with a dim recognition of his state, a useless attempt to grasp the situation that was slowly escaping his control.

And you loved it.

“W-What…” He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “…help…”

You left him there to struggle as you grabbed the can of gasoline from his backyard, which you had hidden there that morning when he was at work. You wondered briefly if he had noticed it when he came back home, but just like the others, he was oblivious. It was still right where you left it.

You carried it back into the study and noticed his eyes widening slightly, a fear starting to seep through his confusion. You unscrewed the cap, the pungent smell filling the room, and stared down at him.

That was when you heard the ringing.

It was a loud, jarring noise and your eyes settled onto the house phone sitting on his desk. The sound was out of place, cutting through the tension-filled silence like a knife as you waited for it to stop. It kept on going, on and on, until the answering machine clicked on, and a familiar voice cut through the room, calling out your name.

You let out a cry. The sound of Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed in your ears, the voice you had hoped to avoid was now invading this moment.

“Pick up the phone,” he pleaded. “Please.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when his voice was already starting to shake your defenses.

The call ended not long after that. You took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain your composure. But then the phone rang again. This time, his message was more desperate.

“Talk to me, please, I know what you’ve been through... I just want to help.”

The gasoline can shook in your grip. Help was the last thing you needed. “I don't want any help," you muttered to yourself, the words barely audible over his voice cutting through the answering machine.

“I-I’ll be here if you need me, you don't have to go through this alone.”

"I don't want any help.”

But he kept on, his voice calm yet insistent. "I know you're in pain, but this—this isn't the way to solve things. Answer me, please, let me help—“

It was your last straw. You finally snatched up the phone. "I don't want any help!"

You were met with a stunned silence on the other end. It was deafening, stretching out long enough for the reality of who was on the other end to sink in.

“…Spencer?”

“I’m here,” he replied softly. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Hearing his voice, so familiar and filled with genuine care, made you pause. For a split second, the walls you had built around your heart trembled. You wanted to scream at him, to push him away, but a part of you longed for his presence.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why are you not going anywhere?”

“Because I…” There was a pause. “Because I care about you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst. “You do?”

“I do,” he confessed. “More than I should have.”

You sniffed, gently placing the gasoline on top of the wooden surface of the desk. “Because you’re an FBI agent and I’m a stripper?” You wondered, recalling the same question you had asked him days ago.

“You know it was never about that,” he said. “But you’re smart enough to know the real reason.”

You glanced back at the man lying on the floor, barely conscious, his breaths shallow and labored. Spencer’s voice rang in your ears again.

“Don’t do this… please.”

You swallowed, your heart beating fast. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll give you three,” he responded quickly. “One, you’re not a bad person.”

Your grip on the phone tightened.

“Two, you deserve a chance to find real peace.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, the resolve in your heart wavering.

“And three,” Spencer’s voice softened. “Because I want to dance with you again.”

The memory of that night, the connection you felt, rushed back, overwhelming your rage that you couldn’t help but laugh through your tears. “Yeah?”

“I want you to teach me again,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m still not very good at it.”

The image of the two of you dancing at the bar brought a bittersweet ache to your heart. But it wasn’t enough to overwhelm the anger, the deep-seated rage that had driven you for so long.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the phone, the words escaping in a breath so faint it was almost swallowed by the silence of the room.

Spencer heard it, though. “Don’t say that. It’s not over,” he pleaded. “We can still have more nights out, more dances.”

“Spencer, stop.”

“Think about it,” he continued, his voice softening as he tried a different approach. “Your family, they would rather take the money than fight for you. They left you to fend for yourself when you needed them the most.”

“Spencer…”

“And you’ve carried that weight for so long. You’ve been so strong, but now you’re not alone, you have me. So don’t let their choices define you,” he muttered. “You’re better than this.”

His words struck a nerve.

“Better than this?” You suddenly snapped, anger flaring up again. “You don’t know me. Just because we had one date, it doesn’t mean you understand what I’ve been through.”

“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” Spencer admitted. “But I know pain. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned and betrayed.”

He paused, the line silent for a moment before he continued with a heavy sigh.

“When I was in school, a girl asked me to meet her by the school field one day… only for the football team to show up instead. They tied me up to a goalpost and stripped me naked in front of all the students.” He took a deep breath. “Everyone laughed and stared, and no one did anything to stop them.”

You knew what he was trying to do. And partly, it worked. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for him. You imagined how sad it must have been for him, how traumatic and devastating that experience must have been. It was heartbreaking to picture him in that situation. But despite your sympathy, it didn’t suppress the anger inside you.

As painful as his story sounded, you knew you’d rather take his place instead of enduring what you had experienced.

“Spencer, it’s not the same,” you said, your voice trembling. “What they did to you was horrible, but what happened to me… it destroyed everything.”

“I know it’s not the same,” he replied quietly. “But pain is pain. And it doesn’t have to define us. We can choose—“

“Pain is pain?” You cried, finally letting go of the tears you had been holding back. “You know what’s painful? Hearing your story and the first thing that came up to my mind was how I’d rather take your place, because unlike you, those men didn’t stop after they stripped me naked.”

The anger boiled over, and you couldn't stop yourself, tears streamed down your face as raw, unfiltered pain poured out in your words.

"Do you know what it feels like to be young and helpless? To have four men twice your size assault you?" You screamed, losing any semblance of control you had left. "Do you fucking know how it feels to see these disgusting men get away with everything while you have to endure the nightmares, the flashbacks, the fear every single day?"

Your voice broke, heavy sobs wracking your body.

"Do you know how it feels to be broken, to be so destroyed that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror without hating what you see?”

Silence fell, your heavy breathing the only sound in the aftermath of your outburst. Spencer's voice was gentle when he finally spoke. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course, you didn’t. Because you’re a man, after all.” You picked up the gasoline again, the weight heavy in your hand. “You’re just like them… all you want to do is to save them.”

“That’s not what I—”

“And you’re fucking wasting my time.”

You slammed the phone down, cutting off the connection.

You moved on instinct. You looked down at the man on the floor, his eyes half-open, barely conscious. You regarded him one last time before you poured the gasoline over his body. The fumes rose in the air as you spread the liquid around the room, creating a trail that led to the door. At some point, one of your heels cracked, and you kicked them off, feeling the cold ground beneath your feet. It was a minor inconvenience, nothing compared to the gravity of what you were about to do.

When you finally reached a safe distance from the house, you paused, taking one last deep breath, throwing the empty can onto the ground. The weight of your past, your pain, and your anger all converged in this single moment. You took out the lighter, your hands trembling as the reality of what you were about to do settled in.

You flicked the lighter, the small flame dancing in the night air. For a moment, you were transfixed by it, the flickering light a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you. Everything you had endured, everything that had brought you to this point, seemed to hinge on this tiny flame.

With a flick of your hand, you let it fall to the ground.

The flame kissed the trail of gasoline, igniting it instantly. The fire took life, racing along the path with a hunger that matched your own rage. It moved back toward the house, consuming everything it touched, fueled by the fume and your deep-seated desire for retribution.

The flames grew and the fire roared louder, its crackling sound filling the silence of the night. The house began to catch, the flames eagerly climbing the walls. The sight was mesmerizing yet horrifying, and you stood rooted to the spot, the fire reflecting in your eyes, casting light on the tears that streaked down your face.

You felt a smile forming on your lips.

So this was what it felt like, to watch the ashes drift through the air. To smell the acid scent of smoke. To feel the heat envelop you, wrapping your body like a suffocating blanket. To hear the sound of the world cracking and crumbling under the force of your wrath. It was beautiful, and you were mesmerized by the flames, the destruction—they were your creation, your justice.

But deep down, it was so much more than that. This wasn’t just for you, but for everyone else who had been silenced, who couldn’t do anything. You realized your anger was more than just a personal vendetta. It was a voice for the voiceless, a stand against those who had used their power to hurt and destroy.

You thought of all the others who had been through the same hell, who had been left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives alone, who had been dismissed by a system that should have protected them.

The fire was for them, too.

You continued to watch the flame dance through the night sky, and that was when you heard it, the distant sound of vehicles approaching you. The crunch of gravel under tires grew louder and you stayed rooted where you were.

There was no running from this, no escaping what was to come. You had chosen this path, you had already accepted the consequences long before the first match was struck.

As you turned around, a group of people in FBI vests came rushing out, some frantically calling for backup as they watched the fire consume the house, while a few others pointed their weapons towards you. But your eyes were fixed on the man who had given you a glimpse of hope, the man who had tried to save you.

You felt tears streaming down your face as Spencer approached you, and you sobbed uncontrollably, the reality of what you had done sinking in.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking. “I-I had to do it.”

“Reid.”

An older FBI agent standing close called him, his tone a clear warning, but Derek, the other agent who you had also seen at the club, placed a hand on his shoulder. The older agent hesitated, then remained silent, allowing Spencer to approach you.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Spencer’s eyes took in your appearance. The confident woman he had always known was nowhere to be found, replaced by this version of you—vulnerable, sad, and angry at the world. The sight of you barefoot, the dirt and grime clinging to your skin, made it even more heartbreaking. Your hair was disheveled, your face was streaked with tears. The raw emotion in your eyes tore at his heart.

“I—I’m sorry too,” he whispered.

You let out a choked sob. “I… I-I really had fun that night.”

Spencer nodded helplessly. “It was the best night of my life.”

Your sobs grew louder, feeling the air restrict your lungs. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get to do it again.”

He shook his head. “We could.”

“You know well we couldn’t,” you murmured. The pain in his eyes after those words left your mouth was too much—that raw, unguarded hurt—and you had to close your eyes, not wanting to see it.

In that brief darkness you wondered what would have happened if you had never gone through with any of this. Would you still have crossed his path? Would things have been different? But no, your rage was too consuming, too deep-seated for you to second guess the path you had chosen.

His soft voice whispered your name, and you blinked your eyes open, noticing his outstretched arm.

“Dance with me.”

You let out a painful cry. ���Spencer… don’t make it harder than it already is.”

“Please, I… I just want to hold you.” You stared at his hand trembling under the firelight. “Please.”

You had never felt so much pain, a crushing weight on your heart, and against your better judgment, you took his hand. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as if trying to memorize every detail of your body pressed against his.

The world seemed to pause. You let your mind be happy for a while, you let it travel to the simple, mundane things you wished you could do with him—walking hand in hand through a park, sharing quiet breakfasts, laughing together over something silly, and feeling his comforting presence beside you during the small, quiet times in bed.

You dreamed of a life where your past didn’t haunt you, where the weight of your decisions didn’t crush your spirit. You dreamed of waking up to his smile, of whispered conversations in the dark, of his naked body pressed against yours as he whispered sweet nothings to your ear. You allowed yourself to fantasize of a life filled with those ordinary, beautiful moments, a life that felt so achingly close yet so painfully out of reach.

But the fire’s glow around you was a reminder of the reality you couldn’t escape. Still, for a few moments, the night around you seemed to fade, the chaos and destruction reduced to a distant backdrop. His hands were gentle on your back, holding you as if you were something precious, something to be cherished, someone to be loved.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he murmured into your hair.

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, those deep brown eyes you knew you were going to miss. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

The sorrow there was mirrored in your own, a mutual recognition of the pain you both felt. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, as if trying to commit every detail to memory. The color of your eyes, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice. He wanted to remember you for a lifetime.

With tears streaming down your face, you leaned into him, savoring the bittersweet moment. You ignored everything around you. The noise, the chaos, the destruction—all of it faded into the background. It was just the two of you, as if nothing else mattered.

And nothing else did.

So you danced for the last time, holding on to each other desperately, each step a silent prayer, each turn a tender goodbye, as the world continued to burn.

~*~

“Can't seem to hold you like I want to,

So I can feel you in my arms.

Nobody's gonna come and save you,

We pulled too many false alarms.”

~*~

A/n: If you managed to make it to the end, I applaud you! Thank you from taking the time to read this fic. I’m very self conscious about this because not only does it have 14k words, the plot is also very heavy. But I’m happy with how it turned out and I hope you liked it too. Also, I could go on and on about why I chose this specific plot, but I’d be talking too much here. So if you want to further discuss this story, feel free to send me asks. I’ll gladly reply to them <3

[obsidianimagines]

Stay

After he and his brothers track down and kill the men who murdered their mother, Jack returns home to find you waiting in his room, and he doesn't want you to leave.

Jack Mercer x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of death/murder/trauma, a little homophobia (Bobby refers to reader as Jack's beard), smidge of angst, comfort/fluff 🥺, cursing, a little mention of sex so MINORS DNI

Notes: This is my first try at a Jack imagine. Hope you like it ☺️ and please ignore how bad I am at titles

Jack's childhood bedroom looked about as you'd expected.

An electric guitar and amp. A stereo with a collection of rock cd's. Band and car posters plastered on the wall. And, of course, a stack of VHS tapes that you probably didn't want to inspect too closely—he'd been a teenage boy the last time he lived there, after all.

You eventually grew tired of looking around and propped his pillow up so you could sit back against his headboard. His bed was a lot more comfortable than the one in the crappy hotel you'd been sleeping in, mostly because it was Jack's, and that meant safety. It meant home.

It was already pretty late when you first arrived at the Mercer home, so you were having a hard time staying awake to greet your boyfriend. Maybe you should've just waited until the morning, but something told you that you might be needed. That was why you'd driven to Detroit with him in the first place instead of making him go on his own. To be there for him during such a devastating time.

You yawned and decided to rest your eyes for just a few minutes, not hearing the sound of the front door, or Bobby speaking a little too loudly as three of the Mercers entered.

"Seriously, Jackie. How much are you paying her?"

"I'm not paying her anything, Bobby." Like always, his brother was just trying to get under his skin. Sometimes, it really fucking bothered him, but after seeing your car parked out front, he just wanted to find you.

He didn't see you in the living room, and just as he realized where you likely were, Sofi came down the stairs and confirmed it. "She's waiting in your room."

"Thanks." Jack took the steps two at a time, passing Sofi as she eagerly went to meet Angel at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, she better not think she's staying here! We don't need another La Vida Loca!" Bobby called after Jack, which he ignored, chuckling as Sofi started cursing at the oldest Mercer in Spanish.

Jack opened his bedroom door, cracking a small smile the instant he noticed you dozing off on his bed. He'd had half a mind to have Jerry drop him off at your hotel, but it was late enough that he assumed you were already sound asleep. Now that he knew you weren't even there, he was glad he hadn't gone anyway because he wouldn't have heard the end of it from Bobby.

Your eyes fluttered open as Jack slipped off his leather jacket, tossing it on the chair while kicking off his boots. "Hi," you greeted with a relieved smile.

"Hey, gorgeous," he replied as he climbed into the bed with you.

Even though you'd only been together for about two and a half years, you could read Jack very well. It was clear when he was upset or thinking of painful things, showing right there in his eyes. At that moment, you saw not just the sadness and grief of the last several days, but something else that disturbed him.

You shimmied down the bed a bit and opened your arms, allowing him to practically lay on top of you and rest his head on your chest. "What happened, baby?" You gently embraced him, resting a hand at the nape of his neck.

Jack took a moment to relax in your arms, letting out a sigh as you began to run your fingers through his hair. It had taken some time and a lot of built trust for him to be fully comfortable with that kind of intimacy, and once that happened, he could never get enough. After everything that happened that day, he really fucking needed it.

"I–" He sniffled, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes. "I saw the security footage. I saw my mom..."

"Oh..." Your heart clenched as you realized what he meant. "I'm so sorry you had to see that, Jack."

"We found the guys that killed her," he said quietly, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "Angel and Bobby took care of it, but I...I couldn't handle it. I'd never watched anyone die like that." Jack had done some dumbass shit as a kid, but he'd never gotten into some of the more extreme things his brothers—particularly Bobby—did. Not until his mom was taken from him.

The fact that he and his brothers had found and killed their mom's murderers was not a surprise to you. Jack already told you that was the plan, and he'd shared enough about his brothers in the past for you to know he wasn't just talking. While killing was wrong, you had nothing against them getting revenge for Evelyn as long as Jack still came home to you in the end.

"But it's done now, right? You don't have to see that again."

"Nah, it's not over yet. Someone hired them to kill her."

Your hand stopped moving. "What?" Random robbery to contract killing? A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of him getting mixed up with something like that. "Who would want to kill your mom? She was amazing." You'd only ever talked to Evelyn on the phone, but between the lovely conversations and everything Jack ever told you about her, you knew she was a special woman.

"We don't know yet. I'll have to stay a couple more days..." Though it was important to find the truth and get justice, part of him really just wanted to be back home in your little shared apartment. He wanted things to be back to normal—as normal as they could be without Evelyn Mercer in the world.

"I'll add a few days to my hotel," you said as your fingers resumed playing with his hair. The idea of an extended stay didn't bother you at all. You knew he wasn't leaving Detroit until his mom was avenged.

"You should check out and stay here with me." He looked up at you with those soft blue eyes, and you already knew you'd be doing just that with very little convincing. Jack was hard to resist. "I miss you."

"It's not like I'm back in New York." Even though you laughed, you understood exactly what he meant. The cold Michigan nights really made you appreciate sleeping with him. "I miss you, too, but I don't want to intrude on you and your family."

"You're not intruding. You're my family, too," he assured you with a smile, which you returned as you stroked his cheek. "Besides, Angel's busy with Sofi, and Bobby's gonna be annoyed by someone or something no matter what."

You'd only met his oldest brother very briefly, but based on Jack's warnings and Sofi's rant about him when she let you in the house, you didn't doubt that he was a prickly as they come.

Jack watched expectantly, hoping he wouldn't have to spend another night alone. He had a hard time getting rest without you already, but it got worse after finding out his mom died. And he couldn't help the worry that whoever he and his brothers were after could end up targeting those close to them. That you could be hurt or killed just for being in town and being his girl. You'd probably be safer at the Mercer home.

"Okay, I'll check out in the morning."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and moved up your body to place a kiss on your lips. As he pulled back, you gazed up at him with the sweetest eyes he'd ever seen, and he thought for the millionth time how lucky he was to meet you. That you'd happened to end up at one of his shows three years ago was nothing short of a fucking miracle. "I love you."

"Love you, too," you said back without hesitation.

Underneath the rock and roll look, Jack was soft and sweet. You had seen tiny hints of it when you first talked outside of the bar his band had just played in, and he slowly let you in to see the rest. He respected and cared for you in a way that no other guy ever had, he made you feel safe and loved. Knowing you did the same for him after everything he'd been through meant the world.

When he laid back down beside you and pulled the blanket up over your bodies, you quickly turned on your side and snuggled right up to him.

Jack kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed his hand up and down your back, and that was the last thing you remembered before finally drifting off.

Waking up was not quite as peaceful as falling asleep had been. A loud banging on the door shocked you both awake just in time to hear, "Rise and shine, Princess! We got shit to do today!"

Jack groaned and buried his face in your chest again. Even with Bobby's interruption, he really didn't want to move. After all, that was his second favorite spot to put his face. You were just about as eager to get up as he was, realizing just how much you'd needed this the last few days.

"What a charming wake up call," you said with a laugh, your voice rough from sleep. Considering how he'd referred to you as Jack's beard the first time you met, and at their own mother's funeral no less, a lack of tact seemed to be Bobby's thing.

"You get used to it," he mumbled into your t-shirt. "Unless you changed your mind about staying..."

"Nope." You reluctantly threw the blanket off and untangled yourself from him, taking a glance at your watch. "We've got plenty of time for breakfast, but I do need to be at the hotel by 9:30 to get my things."

Once you stretched and finally got out of bed, Jack sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face, his hair sticking up even more than usual. You went over to his jacket to fish his zippo and the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket and toss them over to him.

"Thanks," Jack said before placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He took a drag and watched amused as you slipped your shoes on and fixed yourself up a bit because, unlike him, you had a problem with looking like you'd just rolled out of bed.

Satisfied, you leaned down and tenderly cupped his jaw so you could press a kiss to his forehead. "See you downstairs, baby."

Jack's cheeks heated up at the sweet affection, and he blew out a cloud of smoke as you walked away with a sway of your hips.

Yeah, he was lucky as hell.

[fluff-n-cookies]

more dad dabi head content?! you write it so welllll🥺🥺🥺

*sighs.* It's been a long day for me so im coping by speedrunign this. thanks for requesting, I appreciate you interacting with me more so than the usual like or comment.

Author notes under the cut as well as links

Warnings: FLUFF (mostly, 90%), not proof read, SPOILERS, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

---

Dabi would be such a good dad you cannot tell me otherwise.

I mean sure, some times he forgets things, that you have school the next morning, and most days he feels like shit for not being able to rent a proper apartment to house you in; forcing you to live in this tiny cupboard of drywall and rotten carpet because he simply can’t afford better. Yeah sure, he sometimes loses his temper and tells you to go wait in your room when he has his "coworkers" over or when the bad man is on TV. But the moment he sees discomfort, prickles of tears in your eyes

He will shut the ever loving fucking up and back away.

But I think what makes him the best dad is his undying will to protect you, usually from himself. He'll lock himself in his own room or take it out on civilians and other villains before even thinking about coming to you in such a god awful state.

however it's also important to note that he'd do just as heinous things if he finds something that's more of a threat then himself. AKA, Endeavor.

(I just realized that by typing the rest of this paragraph, I'd be spoiling the plot of part three, forget I ever said anything.)

So rather than speaking of the devil we'll talk about how much of a worrywart Dabi actually is at heart.

He spends every single waking minute, and every unconscious second, to worry about you. This man lives in constant paranoia. Truly, deep down in his heart he wants to bundle you up in bubble wrap and tuck you under 10 blankets so you'll never be cold. So it's quite unfortunate that he can never quite express these feelings to you or anyone for that matter, trauma and internalized fear of emotional vulnerability and all that.

As a result, he will often express this through odd gestures of- I'm not quite sure what exactly it is.

What he'll do is he'll stare at you for prolonged periods of time, memorize your every schedule, demand to know all your friends, he emails your teachers once a week at least to ask them about your academic and social whereabouts. Everyone thinks he's a helicopter parent, no, he's a fucking psychopath.

he might as well have a GPS tracker on you. of course you barely get a say in this. he's your darling father, he's been like this since you were born, he only does it because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. he doesn't want to hurt you, even if he does, he's always apologized right after.

Dabi is also a cheapskate. the world's greatest in fact. despite the IRS never collecting his taxes he will forever never have enough money, he spends most of his "paycheck" the money stolen from innocent civilians on your college funds. He fully plans on starting a new life in Europe after All For One takes over and enrolling you into a top college so you can get your education (that is if the educational system is still intact.)

this is also why he is a Dumpster Diver and Pro Thriftier on the weekends! Everything, and I mean everything, is probably vintage and from goodwill. I have nothing else to say about that.

However, this did cause you to be heavily bullied and ostracized at school. A school in the pretty subarubs of japan where everyone's parent were either middle class or above, where you, you came from a different district, with the worn down shoes and the badly done hair, so excited to meet your new classmates. And it's quite sad really, never having many friends and all that. Especially if you aren't fully Japanese and were of color. (shout out to all my POC readers!)

and of course this wouldn’t be a proper story without Dabi being a little shit, but that's the thing about Dad Dabi, he is never a little shit in front of his child. never had been and probably never will be. It primarily roots from this need of an acutal father figure that he never had (endeavor was more so a mentor and teacher and, of course, abuser rather rthan an actual father to him).

he's nothing but serious around you, hell, he barely even talks, only ever grunts and hums in response to whatever you're saying so you know that he's listening to you. you may think he doesn't care, but he remembers it all as best he can, scribbles it down in broken grammar on the back of newspapers because he can’t afford a proper phone nor nice clean printerpaper.

Honestly, Dabi's a good father. But he's heavily insecure about it, he truly wants to lock you up in a castle like the princess you are to him and keep you there until the ends of time.

And on a simmilair note, he refuses to let you became a "bad" person.

AKA, someone who doesn't respect others, someone who cusses a lot, someone that doesn't show gratidute when given something good in their life. the reason he does it is because he refuses to see the current version of himself in you, he refuses to even think about you being tainted. Refuses. In his deluded mind that version of you can never exist lest they kill him.

He's genuinely the most strict helicopter parent to ever parent.

I'm talking monitors you 24/7, enrolls you in every after school club with even the tiniest bit of academic advancement (chess club, book club, math team), and he sits down with you every night to work through homework, he only ever buys nutritious meals for you; even though they take up the majority of his budget, and he only eats after you've eaten, drowning himself in the shitty dollar menu fast food.

Of course, he rewards you heavily for your hard work. Every day, he praises you for all that you’ve accomplished,

“Aww, good job honey.”

“A+, very nice.”

“You got a B? Oh, you thought you’d get an A? It’s okay, I know you tried. a B is good too.”

It not the most encouraging thing in the world but he wants your to know that he cares, he’ll takes you out for ice cream at the end of every month and give you an allowance to spend 10 dollars for every A on your report card. (This takes a huge bite out of his budget, but he made you a promise… he can skip out on dinner a couple nights, it’ll be fine.)

so far, you've been doing so well in school, one of the best students in your school, one of the more kind and respectful too. it's just that... you're so shy, you practically cower in fear when you have to talk to your classmates, especially after the incident. (Part 3, anyone?)

Dabi also puts this persona on for you, this persona of a kind man who is just a tad bit odd looking. he puts on the facade of being a normal civilian with a stable job and okay-ish income just so you don't worry. With you, he’s soft and trustworthy and only wants the best for you. Even if he does make you upset, he says sorry afterwards, always. He loves you, at least, that’s what he tells you.

And though it's not something he really worries about now, he dreads the day you become a teenager, then you'll know why he spends his nights out when there's criminals on the lose, who fears the day you'll understand what the news means, the day you'll take the hero's side. He just doesn't have the resources to keep you hidden from the outside world long enough for this wretched war he's fighting to be over. For the mean time, he denies you of much context on what he actually does all day, it's quite easy to do such a thing; he only ever needs to divert your attention to something shiny or pretty, like those little unicorn toys that he bought you for your second birthday, bought them brand new unlike many of the other things he's gotten you over the years. But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up for, you’re smart, incredibly so, it’s only a matter of time until you know who he actually is,

another thing that he fears is of you growing up, caring for a small child is one thing, but he fears the day that you'll become a complex human being capable of properly understanding your emotions and failing to understanding that he truly wants the best for you.

he'll sit in the darkness of the living room some nights, you tucked neatly away on the other side of the couch, fast asleep, you never could finish a movie night without falling asleep half way through. his breathing's heavy as he runs his mind through the thousands upon thousands of theoretical fights you two'll have when you get older. How you’ll want to distance yourself, how you’ll cry yourself to sleep some nights because you think he doesn’t love you. he can't handle it, he won't stand to be your enemy.

because one day, you'll be an adult, you'll want to leave him, and you'll never come back. he can't live with that, he simply won't. he sometimes thinks about killing himself so he won't live to see the day you no longer want him in your life.

OR, OR, ALTERNATIVELY.

ProHero Dad Dabi.

I have been thinking about Dabi's ProHero Au since forever now. think teenage father Dabi but he got a girl pregnant the moment he's out of high school. (those after graduation parties be crazyyyy) and now he genuinely doesn't know how to balance his home life and his career and his daughter.

and obviously, just obviously, he CANNOT tell his father, he's already worse than Shoto, he's not gonna go lower on the scale.

so despite being the highest climbing amateur Hero in the past 7 years, he takes the longest hiatus of his life just to figure all this father shit out. his first plan was to but the girl up for adoption, and then he realized it would fail the moment the media find out, then he thought maybe he could tell one of his friends to take care of her, one of the ladies who'd fallen head over heels for him back in high school, he'd charm them, marry them, and then make em' into a house wife to take care of his mistake child.

honestly, it was a pretty good idea until he truly did start to love his child. similar to the main timeline, ProHero Dabi realizes he wants to be a better father than the one he grew up with, he decides to keep the child and raise her as his own, etc.

But in this timeline, literally everything is reversed.

Dabi's loaded with that money that the government gives him or fighting off a couple measly thugs, pair that with the brand deals he gets offered every other minute, and the trust fund his daddy gave him to get him through the "rough years" as he called it, he's practically rolling in cash.

oh God, you are going to be such a brat growing up. Life handed to you on a silver spoon is nice. I'm talking luxury clothes, top private schools, an allowance bigger than the gods. and Dabi did It all cuz' he loves you.

and the media goes HAM over a teenage ProHero that already looks like a villain having a daughter with a stranger! the press goes wild over it, but the whole time, Dabi covers your little tiny face with his hand so the flashes of the cameras don't frighten you and calmly explains that he will not be taking any questions. he holds you tight to his chest the whole time.

But you know who as the most furious? ENJI. big guy cussed out Touya for 3 hours straight all while holding you, at first the refused to give his son any right to hold you let alone raise you! In Enji's eyes, his son is the most malicious thing to ever grace this planet, he drinks, he smokes, he has ten thousand tattoos and piercings along his burn marks to match, Dabi's essentially the devil, and he's not going to let him get anywhere close to his first ever grandchild and possible child prodigy that he can turn into his puppet! Rei and Fuyumi had to step in and try and convince Enji to let Dabi have you rather than file to take full custody of you with the promise if Dabi even showed hints of negligence towards you, he can take his son to court.

okay that the end of my rant. and please let me know if you want to know more about pro hero Dabi from me.

---

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

Note: YA'LL READ MY RULES FOR REQUESTING DAMN. I GOT 2 ANONS (more than my usual of 0) AND BOTH OF THEM ASKED FOR ROMANTICS (I DO NOT WRITE ROMANTICS)

please, please, read a writers rules, please follow them, and thank you to this anon who decided to be reasonable BECAUSE MAYBE THEY READ THE RULES BEFORE DECIDING TO ASK LIKE YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO THIS HAS HAPPENED NEARLY EVERY TIME I GET AN ASK.

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee @frog-fans-unite @rian1023 @aikobabe @double-gs @mitsuki3123 @wolvwa @red4-0

[cocomanga]

The Sweetest Beat - Set 6 *💿RE-RELEASE💿*

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader,

CW: Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, NPD Abuse/Trauma, Intense Feral Megumi.

READER DISCRETION ADVISED: HEAVY Noncon/Dubcon Please DO NOT proceed if that triggers you. This is the Megumi I want to royally f*ck up my life honey. I couldn't find him in fics so I created him myself. Brace yourself.

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art Reader is encouraged to listen to music mentioned for context :)

Total WC : 19.8K! (crazy work)

Wanna take it from the top? Start at Set 1🎶;)

<< The Sweetest Beat - Set 5

The Sweetest Beat - Set 7 >>

TSB - Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Hello there, Reader! I'm exited to say I've finally revamped this chapter. This is a re-release of set 6, complete with all the extras I originally had in mind, and as many edits as I could manage …😅 There was quite a bit I was supposed to add before the first release, so I had to decide if I wanted to leave this chapter as is or move forward with Set 7. I chose to do a combination of the two, resulting in making this one longer and saving some of the other stuff I was planning for later, which may not include any spicy bits (depending on my flow)… This chapter has gone from a word count of 12K to nearly 20K, complete with a brand new ending! So... If you've read it already, you might wanna revisit…🤭 I really hope you do, and I hope you enjoy! (please forgive any lingering errors. I legit need to hire a real editor or something 'cause I feel like I go blind to them after a while!🥺)

Synopsis: Megumi Fushiguro is the leader of a fresh new rock band. They're currently playing covers and gaining a following at an alarming rate, skyrocketing his career as an indie artist. But when his best friend introduces him to a beautiful someone and sparks fly, he's challenged to navigate her fear of loving freely.

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶6TH SET LIST (Super long, I know) Waterfall (I adore you) – Yebba Nutshell – Alice in Chains Leaving Hope – Nine Inch Nails Every Kind of Way – H.E.R. Hrs & Hrs – Muni Long Back to Love – Robert Glasper (feat. SiR & Alex Isley) Pyramid Song – Radiohead Feel Something – Chris Brown ICU – Coco Jones Hunting Bears – Radiohead When We – Tank Love Song – 311 Fade Away – Lucky Daye Blood Money - Vancouver Sleep Clinic Something In the Way – Nirvana CPR – Summer Walker Not You Too - Drake (feat. Chris Brown) WTH – Jene Aiko Adorn – Miguel My Song – H.E.R. Big Feelings - Willow In Da Club – 50 Cent The Sweater Song – Weezer

Megumi flinched, his lids lowering into a squint as he processed your words. “E – Excuse me?” his reply came out in a bit of a huff as his eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. His radio played

Waterfall (I adore you) – Yebba

You paused, eyes fluttering a bit before you answered, “Oh, I think you heard me.” You drawled with full confidence.

“You... were bad.” you whispered, your eyes dropping down toward his abdomen, scanning his form until they reached his dark blues as you slowly bit your lip. You then gently cupped his face between your warm hands with a soft smirk.

Megumi chuckled under his breath, peering down at you in surprise. The beating of his heart, loud in his own ears as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours, taking in the way they burned in desire.

Your head tilted to the side, as you raised an eyebrow, challenging his presumption that you couldn't possibly be serious.

Your gaze then traveled downward, resting on his lips, following behind your fingertips as they slowly grazed his bottom lip, tracing the curve of his chin, trailing down his neck, across his broad chest, riding the highs and lows of his pectorals until they slid gently round his sensitive nipples, forcing another flinch from him.

They then glided even lower, pressing into his solid ab muscles, your fingers curling around his waist, your hands lightly gripping his sides.

Your gaze met his once more, savoring the nice, warm feeling building up in your core as you stared into each other.

You then turned your attention to the bedside table, reaching for your bag. You unzipped the pouch, and from inside, retrieved a long strip of blue fabric, the sheen from it reflecting the light as it came into view.

You moved gracefully, laying the pouch back down on the table as you addressed him. “Why don't you have a seat on the bed for me, hm?” you whispered, motioning toward the mattress behind him with an upward nod.

Megumi's tangible gaze raked hungrily across your beautiful, curvy silhouette, pausing at your lips before he finally moved, stepping blindly backward, then against the bed as he sat, his mind reeling, curious what you're planning. “What's go–”

“You seem to have forgotten sweetheart.” You interrupted, “I have no problem getting what I need from you.”

Megumi felt his dick twitch behind his pants as you spoke, his body exposing his excitement to see you in this state again. You were right. He recalled that first night, you sneaking feels of him as you squirmed around in the bed while he pretended to be asleep. He sat wide-eyed, studying your every move, the realization settling on him like a warm blanket, that whatever you wanted, whatever you asked for, he'd give it to you.

You stepped closer to him with the two strands of fabric, wrapping one around your neck, allowing each end to hang loose down the front of your body. You held the second piece in your hands, end to end.

He parted his knees as you drew closer, watching your curves move softly in the dim lighting, until you were mere inches from his face, his eyes now peering up intently toward you. His gaze always made your body tingle. There wasn't much else that felt better than Megumi's eyes on you.

Your heart skipped in your chest. “Close your eyes”. You whispered as you looked down at him.

He did as you asked, one of his legs swaying anxiously back and forth.

You reached up and tied the cloth around his head, covering his eyes. Your fingertips slid from the knot, gently down the back of his neck, then across his shoulders where they rested.

The tension in the room became as palpable as the body heat between you. Megumi, apparently unable to resist, reached his hands up in an attempt to place them somewhere on your body, yet they were met with a quick smack.

“No touching.” You demanded.

He huffed as he placed his hands back down flat on the bed at his sides, his lips disappearing into his mouth as heat spread out to each of his limbs from the heavy beating of his heart.

You stepped back a couple feet away, admiring how unbelievably sexy he looked blindfolded, especially as he was completely unaware of what you had in store. As you stood observing him, relishing the tingly feeling that coursed through your body, it was as if you could still feel him, regardless of the literal distance created between you.

Nutshell – Alice in Chains

played on his speaker. The sound of your voice remained soft and low as you muttered, “Can you see anything?”

Megumi turned his ear toward you, then his face toward the floor. “No.” he replied.

“What's your favorite color?” you asked.

Megumi paused a few seconds, switching the direction he faced to the opposite side. “I uh...” he huffed “I don't need one”.

You frowned, curious. “You don't need a favorite color?”

Megumi cracked a tiny smile, allowing it to fade on his lips as quickly as it formed, as both his hands squeezed the bedding on either side of him. He breathed, “I don't need a safe word.”

You stared at him for a few moments, the implication behind his words dawning on you, as heat spread through your body. Your eyebrows jumped as you grinned, sliding your tongue across your upper molars, entertained by what could have easily been construed as arrogance. But you knew better. You knew... that just for you... it was a display of reckless abandon.

“You sure about that?” You questioned.

He dropped his head down as if to give it a moment of thought, the stretch in the corner of his lips already melting you into a mess.

“Mostly. But I'm ... more than happy to risk it.” He replied. His overwhelming desire to receive whatever you had in store for him, overriding any intention to mute even the smallest part of it. Megumi longed for you. Just sitting here, knowing you wanted to touch him, to be with him, was a reward in and of itself. But to be made to ache even more for you, well, that was even better.

“Okay then.” You responded softly, as your eyes raked over him. All you kept thinking of, all you wanted, was for him to put his hands on you. So much so, it took a considerable amount of strength for you to hold back. “Take off your clothes”.

Megumi stood up from the bed, tall and still, as if to be certain you were paying attention. His cloaked eyes seemed to pierce straight through you as he reached for the hem of his tee. His solid ab muscles came into view bit by bit as they flexed under his porcelain skin, then his chest as he raised it, locks of his jet-black strands mussing about as you watched him pull it off and over his head.

From that alone, your core muscles tightened as your tongue peeked out the corner of your mouth, catching a drop of saliva that threatened to pass your lips.

He tossed the shirt onto the floor, pausing as he faced you. Megumi felt his own body begin to heat up as he savored the atmosphere. He balled each of his hands into fists, quickly releasing them before reaching for the elastic of his pants.

“I've always liked this feeling...” he uttered, almost inaudibly.

You glared a bit at him as you questioned, “What feeling”?

“... the feeling ... of you watching me.” He replied as he began to grip his pants, his bottom lip disappearing behind his teeth.

Your eyes remained locked onto his figure as he moved, and you could swear he was looking directly at you.

“You uh... you wouldn't be cheating now, would you?” you asked, a playful tone lacing your voice.

“Tch, and deprive myself of this?” He mused. “Never. I promise, I can't see you.”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband, pulling them down, allowing them to pool at his feet before he stepped out. He was wearing dark blue boxer briefs this time, black band.

You hissed softly, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly at the sight of him, your heart squeezing inside your chest. “You know,” you whispered, as your gaze raked hungrily over his frame, “you were amazing up there tonight. You made momma very proud.”

Megumi made an attempt to hide his blush as his hands opened and closed into fists again, a means for him to release some of his pent-up tension.

“Lie back on the bed. With your head at the headboard.”

He did as you asked.

“Hands back against the pillows?”

He did as you asked.

Leaving Hope – Nine Inch Nails

hummed as you walked over to the bed. Your eyes grazed his slim, yet muscular form as you stood over him ... “You have a beautiful body, Megumi.” You breathed, as his blush darkened in his cheeks, halfway hidden by the fabric.

He flinched as you touched his skin, your fingertips gliding slowly down his bare chest, tickling him more as they reached his abdomen. Your hand moved to press into the bed as you slowly crawled over him, straddling his belly, your knees on either side of him as your thighs pressed into his sides, flush against his warm skin.

He lifted his hands again, reaching for you, but you gripped both of his wrists, pinning them down to the pillows all to easily as you leaned into his ear, “I said don't touch.”

Your breath was hot on his skin as you moved closer to the shell of his ear, lowering your voice to barely a whisper. “Be a good boy.” You said, as your breasts squished softly into his chest. Your parted lips glided across his jaw, your teeth grazing, then catching a grip on a bit of skin that made its way behind them.

Megumi's brow furrowed as he began to squirm underneath you.

You then leaned forward, allowing your clothed breasts to cover his face as you tied his hands together with the remaining fabric, tethering them to the headboard.

He turned towards your chest, opening his mouth, his tongue pressing outward kissing and sucking your smooth flesh as your breasts moved against his cheeks. Once he was securely bound, you slid your hands slowly down each of his arms, noticing his huffs becoming a little louder in your ears.

You leaned back, “You okay baby?” you asked, sweetly.

“I'm better than okay.” He answered, “but... I need you.”

“Awww... sweetheart.” You said, leaning in, cupping his face, then rubbing your nose against his cheek, nuzzling as you grinded your soft, sensitive sex against his belly, the tip of his dick just behind you, grazing your upper thigh as it sprawled across his hip. You drew closer, kissing his lobe softly as you whispered, “Don't worry, baby. I'll take good care of you.”

You felt his body shudder under your touch as he huffed harder, pressing his head back into the pillows.

Megumi could feel the tension becoming more difficult to bear, building the excitement within him, as he now wondered just how much more of this he could take. It felt like an eternity to him since he was last in this position with you, and he wanted nothing more than to devour you completely.

You pressed your body a little more firmly into his as your lips glided up the side of his neck, planting opened mouth kisses, the same as the ones you loved to receive from him, as you continued to grind yourself against him. You watched his face twist in agonizing pleasure as you took special care to avoid touching his middle.

“Are you excited?” you cooed, your hand massaging the other side of his neck, your thumb tracing the lines in his throat.

“Very.” He muttered, behind heavy breaths.

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, your fingers from both hands sliding up the back of his neck through his hair, gripping as you continued to massage, nuzzling and kissing.

Megumi hissed, “I... ~haah~... I need ... you to untie me.”

“Oh yeah?” you breathed, “Already huh? And why would I do that?”

He turned his head toward you, “I'll ... make you feel good... I wanna take you... taste you...” he huffed, swallowing thickly as he tugged against the headboard, his biceps flexing, veins pressing forward against the skin of his arm.

“Hmm... that sounds so very nice.” ... you drawled. “But ... I'm not quite sure you've learned your lesson, love. He huffed, just before you laid another couple kisses on his collar bone.

You glided your lips over to his, pressing them together in a deep, warm kiss. You slipped in your tongue, humming against his mouth as you sucked his lips, teasingly extending the length of the kiss as you continued. His hips began to press forward as he moaned, the wet muscles inside your mouths dancing together in a warm, soft embrace, the sensation triggering your middle to produce more slick.

Every Kind of Way – H.E.R.

played as the sound of your kisses vibrated throughout your body, the tantalizing taste of his warm mouth, exciting you all the more. Megumi was beautiful. And seeing him like this made your heart race like nothing else ever had. It was a delight teasing him.

“You want me?” you spoke against his lips.

“Haah... yes...” Megumi's voice came out almost as a whine as his hips pressed upward into nowhere, begging for contact.

You began to slide your body lower, rubbing his chest as you peppered more kisses, your tongue gliding across his pecs, then against his nipples. You sucked each of them gently as he flinched.

His abdominal muscles contracted as you blew against his chest, his frown deepening as your hands then slid down lower, “Mmmh...” you moaned, feeding off of his pleasure, his body shuddering as you took in the sound of his moans. You licked your lips as you observed how rock solid his dick was as it pressed against the fabric of his boxers.

You hovered your face over his middle, your hands gliding up and down his sides at his hipbone. His cock was difficult to avoid as it hung sideways across his hip, thick, stiff and long, and there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

You slid your fingers up his inner thigh, slipping them under the hem of his boxers, exposing more of his skin, so tender in this area, as you lightly scraped the flesh of his thighs under your nails, your tongue flicking out before kissing each one.

“Aaah fuck” Megumi plead, squirming underneath you. “Enough teasing ...” He panted, through clenched teeth, “I... haah ~ I've been waiting so long.”

You grinned, satisfied with his reactions as you pressed his thighs outward continuing to kiss them, massaging, squeezing and pressing his skin with the pads of your thumbs, inching closer to his throbbing middle.

Megumi's hips rotated, bucking forward as he frowned, his muscle flexed against his jaw as he clenched his teeth in an attempt to maintain his pride, his entire body betraying his calm.

Hrs & Hrs – Muni Long,

Hummed on the speaker as Megumi begged behind his blindfold, “Mmmh ~ more...”, barely above a whisper. “Just fucking let me have it...” he complained, pulling against his ties.

“So anxious, baby...” you whispered as you squeezed his thigh harder.

Megumi murmured through heavy breaths; “I wanna fuck you... deep ... so deep... I wanna ... bury myself inside you.”

Your heart thumped hard in your chest as you positioned yourself between his legs, his words stirring the fire already burning you from your core as you kneeled on the bed.

“You wanna bury... this... inside me?” you whispered, as you slid your fingers up his clothed shaft to the tip, the fabric already soaked with precum, as your other hand gently cupped and squeezed his clothed sack, evoking another flinch in his body and a guttural moan from his lips.

You gripped his length, stroking it back and forth, the fabric sliding between your skin and his. “You want ... this... deep inside me?”

“Yes... fuck!” Megumi moaned deeply, pressing his head back against the pillows as he pulled his tether tighter against the headboard, his hip movements now jerking, becoming more prominent.

Your heart fluttered at his neediness, your smile growing wider as you curled your fingers into the band of his boxers, pulling the front of them up toward you as you unveiled his beautiful, thick, throbbing member. He lifted his hips to assist you in removing them, and you casually tossed them to the floor.

As his hard veiny cock bounced freely in front of you, you leaned in, pupils blossoming as you took in the sight, your face mere inches from it as you hissed, sliding your hand up his thigh, then finally curling your fingers around the bottom of his shaft.

“Aaah...” Megumi's groan escaped his throat from even deeper inside him, as your hand gripped his thick erection, it's temperature a stark contrast against your hand, so hot you could feel it pulse along your skin.

“Mmm... Your cock is just beautiful, Megumi.” You moaned as you stroked it.

Megumi's breaths hitched as he murmured, “Inside...”

“Aww... sweetie...” you teased. “you're being so good for me. I just wanna spend a little more time with it okay?” Starting at its base, you leaned in, planting slow, open mouthed wet kisses along its length, humming as you moved upward.

He let out a breath that sounded as if he had been holding it for hours. “Aaaaaah!”

You stroked him lovingly a few times, “so fucking pretty”. You flicked out your tongue at the base, licking him all the way to the tip, which glistened with precum just before you sucked it clean, the soft inner part of your lips kissing it with a smack before releasing.

“Mmh... and you taste so good ...” you whispered as you teased.

Megumi trembled as he groaned, “Ngh! ... Ssshit! ... I won't last...” the delicious sensations sending tremors through him, intensified by him being unable to see you.

Back to Love – Robert Glasper (feat. SiR & Alex Isley)

set the mood as you giggled and continued, licking him like a lollypop, sucking eagerly as you reached its angry head. After just a few passes, your tongue flicked over the tip once more, you opened wide and shoved it as far inside your mouth as it possibly could go, gagging slightly as it reached your throat.

Megumi turned his face, burying it against his arm, his mouth opening into a silent scream, working overtime not to cum, his moans causing your core to clench harder every time.

You coated him with your saliva as you sucked, and sucked, and sucked him off, your hands stroking in tandem with the movements of your head, his warm, veiny shaft gliding smoothly across your tongue. It felt so good to please him like this.

“Fuck! ~ I can't take it...~” Megumi warned as he bucked his hips a few times, thrusting his thickness into your throat as your hand massaged his shaft. “Shit! ... I'm gonna come... I'm gonna ... fucking come.”

You hummed against him with pleasure as you sucked harder, your heart skipping beats as you deeply satisfied yourself by satisfying him, your cheeks caving as your lips and tongue glided along his hot length.

The thought of him, the way he makes you feel, his brilliance, his kindness towards you, his scent, his gorgeous face, his dominance, his talent, all stimulating you more as you pleased him, enveloping his sensitive thickness in your soft warm mouth.

You reached your other hand up to rub his chest as you stroked and sucked him... your fingers riding every bend and curve of his chest muscles. You then pulled it from your mouth with a pop, catching your breath, “Haah.... Not yet, baby...” you drawled, grinning as your hand slid down his chest toward his abs.

“Agh! ... the fuck!?...” Megumi whimpered with both frustration and excitement.

You snickered as you crawled up to meet his face, straddling yourself across his hips, careful not to nick him with your heels as his solid length glistened in the dim light and laid straight up against his belly. You sat up, pressing your clothed center on it as he bucked it against your clit, your hands resting across his chest, Megumi flinching and moaning as his dick rubbed roughly over your covered folds.

Pyramid Song – Radiohead

blended into the atmosphere as you rubbed your sex along the length of his hardness, nearly cumming yourself at the feeling, Megumi's mouth hung slightly open as he, thrusted toward you.

“Agh you fucking tease!” he whined, clenching his teeth.

You leaned into him, giggling as you reached up and placed both hands on his cheeks sliding them upwards, your fingers hooking underneath his blindfold to remove it.

As you unveiled his eyes and he slowly opened them to meet your hungry gaze, the contact sent pangs to your heart. The fire inside them was so prominent, so present. You slid your tongue, feather-light across his lips, then past them into his mouth for another deep, warm kiss, as they danced excitedly against each other.

Your mouth slid across his, slowly sucking his bottom lip, then planting one last peck on his chin as you leaned in, pressing your mouth against his ear to whisper, “Just a little more” your tongue flicking out as you sucked his lobe into your mouth.

You pulled back, only to see Megumi's heavily hooded gaze, his pupils blown out dark as he heaved, frowning deeply as he observed you. You pressed your torso up as you straddled him, giving him a perfect view.

“You like what you see?” you moaned, grinding against him as you locked eyes, your hair falling over your face, your lips slightly swollen and deep pink from sucking his cock. You threw your head back, strands of your hair tickling his legs as it swayed, your hardened nipples pressing forward against the thin fabric of your dress as his dick throbbed against your sex, pleading for entry.

Megumi was unable to take his eyes off you, feeling palpitations in his heart for this person, this woman, beautiful inside and out, that he's allowed to take over his emotions, his body, his life. “Fuck... yes...”

You flinched again shuddering on top of him from his angry cock ruffling your folds, the his length laid against his abdomen, pointing directly toward Megumi's face from under the warm covering of your pussy, moans spilling from your lips, as your hands slid up and down his chest.

His body quivered as he approached his limit, his chest rising and falling faster, his desire pushing past the boundary of excited toward feral as he clenched his teeth, hissing.

You leaned forward propping yourself up on your left knee, your left hand next to his shoulder for leverage, as you hovered your middle over his, your right leg stretched out across the remaining length of the bed, your feet still clad in your heels. You flipped your hair back over your right shoulder, meeting his gaze as you pulled your strappy panties aside, then gripped his heavy cock with your hand, rubbing the tip across your soaked folds.

You smirked a bit, teasing, “is this what you want?” you asked, pressing the head ever so slightly into your wet opening.

“No...” Megumi's brows formed a hard line, eyes screwing shut as he hissed, “noooo no, no...” steadily pulling against his bondage as his body shuddered. “C'mon baby, let me out.” he plead again, pressing his face against his bicep.

“No?” you questioned, tilting your head, confused at how that was his answer. “Are you sure about that?” You teased, easing his tip past your slick folds, sinking it slowly inside you, moaning a bit with every inch.

Desperate to take care of this on his own, Megumi fought against his desire to watch yet couldn't tear his eyes away as he witnessed his thick length slowly stretch you open, slipping smoothly into your hole, disappearing inch by inch inside your sweltering heat.

Megumi wailed the loudest he ever had since you'd known him, overwhelmed with pleasure as you rested your body on top of him, your walls wrapping around him as warm as a velvet blanket.

“Haaaah FFUUUUCK!”

Your eyes fluttered shut, rolling into the back of your head as you settled almost completely on top of him, your hands trembling as you moved them to rest on his pale, muscular chest. You doubled over, burying your head in his neck, barely able to contain yourself, air hitching in your throat as it passed your lips. His speaker played

Feel Something – Chris Brown

Megumi's heart pounded as hard as a bass drum as he watched your reaction, feeling you shudder on top of him as his length reached into the innermost secret and deepest parts of you, aching to beat himself even further inside until you could take no more, until he reached the sweetest spot, until you screamed his name.

His member hardened even more as you hovered with him buried in your depths, nearly to the hilt. You moaned loudly as your core squeezed him even harder, your chest heaving. It took everything for you not to cum at that moment. Your eyes opened slowly, meeting his hedonistic gaze.

“Don't move... let me out.” He begged with suppressed urgency, his expression that of a chained wild animal, desperate to devour his prey.

“No.” you whined, leaning your lips toward his, causing more friction from your quivering core against his aching cock.

Megumi's frown deepened as your torso inched closer to his, biting his lip, nearly breaking his flesh, trying as hard as he could not to release inside you immediately.

You smirked as you flicked out your wet tongue and licked one long stroke from his chin to the top of his lip. “Be a good boy and cum for me.” You whispered into his mouth, gripping and pressing your hands into each of his biceps on either side of him.

You leaned back slightly, then pulled your ass upward and his dick out a bit, then thrusted hard back down on top of him, whimpering from the excruciating pleasure as you threw your head back, “haa~aah!”

“Nnngh!” Megumi panted, his head jerking back as you repeated your thrusts, over and over, his dick gliding beautifully and smoothly in and out of your heat, the friction just delicious against your gummy walls.

You pressed down on him repeatedly, now flicking out your tongue against his neck, your hips working miracles against his stubborn dominance, your slick heat firmly gripping his hot cock, milking him, the head pounding into your cervix.

Your hands migrated up toward his neck as you gripped each side, “You like that baby?” you whispered into the shell of his ear, “Letting momma ... ngh... u – use you like this?”

You very much preferred being underneath him, but this position was beyond amazing. To see him at your mercy like this as his reactions goaded you on was so enticing, so irresistible that you just couldn't help yourself.

Your body tremored from your very core, as you moaned out in a sensual whisper, “haaahhh! ~ I'm cumming baby...” as you thrusted even faster.

Megumi yanked against the headboard, pulling and grunting, his eyes rolling back, heavy breaths exiting his mouth at each of your thrusts, a violent tremor suddenly shaking his entire being until he finally came ... hard.

You melted on top of him as thick ropes of his hot semen coated your insides, your core releasing arousal all over him. ”Ha~aaah! You heaved with satisfaction as you turned your face toward the heavens.

His body convulsed as he spilled inside you, his veins pressing out along his arms. He came so much, that after a few moments his seed found its way out of your hole, flatlining as it dripped down the bottom his shaft, yet you continued to move your hips slowly along his oversensitive member.

Megumi kept his head held back as he heaved, having enjoyed every second, somehow so goddamned proud of how well you managed him, allowing his high to wash over him. He then pulled harder against his tether as he trembled. “Please... Haah...~ haaah... Please let me out, baby...” He plead quietly.

You giggled cutely, also pleased with yourself as you looked down at him in his weakened state, leaning in to untie his restraints.

The moment his hands were free, he sprang forward, sitting up, his right arm wrapping around your waist, his hand firmly gripping your thigh as his left arm held the back of your head and his lips slammed into yours.

His tongue lashed around your mouth greedily, the warm, soft contact with the inside of your body exciting him. He easily flipped you over to lie on your back.

“Such a badgirl”. He quipped, his hand threading through your hair. “That was fucking incredible, princess.” He whispered. “And now... it's my turn.”

You bit your lip as you chuckled, both of you exhaling huffs as you took in each other's features. He leaned in for another kiss, this time much slower, as his hands began to explore your body.

They slid down your side against your matte silk dress, sliding to your breasts, where his fingertips gently grazed over your hardened buds, rotating them slowly, the soft fabric separating your skin from his as it glided across, making you shudder as he became hard all over again between your legs from being close to you.

Coco Jones – ICU

began to play as he pulled back from his kiss. Your big, pretty eyes met Megumi's, and his forehead rested against yours as you lay still, just feeling him. Your gazes exchanged fire, your chests heaving, his body warm and firm as he encompassed you.

“Hey there, sweetness... you ready for me?”

Megumi moved his body down, his eyes linked with yours until he relaxed his face between your breasts. His long fingers curled gently around each one, squeezing as he kissed them, inhaling your scent.

His hands slipped under your dress, exposing your pretty skin inch by inch as he lifted it up and off. Having him restrained accentuated the difference feeling his hands on you made, reminding you how you longed for them. His touch never failed to set every one of your senses on fire.

He slid his tongue lightly across your lips once more, as yours pressed forward to meet his, the taste of him, sending tingles to your core. His kisses glided down to your breasts, the wet smacking sounds and deep moans vibrating in your ears.

His darkened blues flicked up as he sucked, making contact with yours, his pupils blown out black, glazed over, piercing as they raked across every one of your secret places.

His hands and body weight pressed down on you, evoking feelings of protection and desire, as the fragrance of soap and incense wafted up from his body, hair tickling your chest as his jet-black strands snaked across your sensitive flesh.

His mouth locked on to you as his lips pursed softly around your nipples, suddenly pulling hard to suck them in, the warm softness of the flesh of his lips, juxtaposed against the tinge of pain behind each suck making you shudder to your core.

Each time your gazes met, it was as if your heart had been squeezed inside your chest, each beat pulsing a surge of electricity through every limb.

Megumi's cock was now rock solid as the head rested at your entrance, still coated and leaking from before.

He maintained eye contact and, gripping your neck with one hand and your ass with the other, he slowly pressed in, watching your face contort in pleasure. You lifted your legs, pressing your calves against his back as he tunneled inch by inch into your velvety soft core without stopping until he bottomed out. His eyes fluttered shut as his lower lip trembled slightly, the both of you moaning upon entry, the glide as smooth as silk.

He loved making a mess of you, until you were writhing and helpless underneath him as he handled your body this way, hurting so good from taking his cock. It made him fucking crazy, feeling himself buried deep inside your warmth like this, knowing you lived for him to fuck you.

Yet, in this moment, neither of you moved, your collective eyes closed as he held that position inside you. Megumi's face nestled in the crook of your neck, his tongue lapping at your throat as softly and desperately as a divine dog, his kisses sopping wet, his breath hot on your skin as he pressed the bottom of his shaft against your clit, and his throbbing head against your cervix.

You waited for the wave to calm, trembling, releasing some of the tension from your lungs through heavy, stifled breaths, but your body betrayed you, the sheer force and power behind his hold on you making you cum immediately. You wailed out, gripping the back of his neck with one hand, scratching red marks into his back with the other as your walls gripped him so tightly that you forced an even louder moan from him.

Hunting Bears – Radiohead

cooed as your body seethed beneath him. The fire that Megumi lit inside you, seared through your veins as the deepest and most concealed, cold, hardened corners of your heart melted like hot wax, and sweat seeped from your collective pores.

He reached down to grip your ass firmly, one cheek in the palm of each hand, your legs opening obscenely wide for him as he pressed in even deeper, his face still buried in the crook of your neck and a perfect curve in his back as he licked and sucked at your throat, gliding his warm tongue up to your ears.

Megumi was molding you, shaping you as an expert artisan, his hands, his rock-hard member, making you, sculpting you into a form intricately tailored for his satisfaction alone, the secret cave of your heat, carved out perfectly by and into the shape of his tool.

Likewise, you had carved a space from his heart that only you could refill. Everything about you, from your person to your beautiful voice, the gleam in your eyes, to the way you received him, gently yet unintentionally massaging his ego and his manhood, you had locked him down into a den of pleasure that he had no desire to leave.

He growled against your skin, now thrusting into your gushing cunt over and over, the sound loud and vulgar in your ears. “Mmgh, everything about you is mine.” He hummed, rocking his hips repeatedly into your core.

As he pulled back, slowly opening his eyes, he waited to see yours. You kept your face turned sideways as your eyes screwed shut. You whimpered through heavy pants, overwhelmed. He felt so good, your body couldn't help the response, so much so... that you just ... couldn't...

“Look at me” Megumi insisted.

His reached a hand up to rest on that comfortable place at the base of your neck, his fingers curling around your pulse point, your body trembling uncontrollably as he pulled out a bit, then thrusted back in, and again, dragging his length against your walls, pressing in slowly, deeply, his forefinger turning your face toward him.

Your hooded, hazy, round eyes rested on his face. His beautiful face.

“Keep looking at me.” He whispered his words between huffs, “Only look at me... ngh... I love to see you cum” he breathed behind thrusts.

His eyes darkened, lids falling slightly as his hand left your ass, flattening against your skin as it glided across your hip to your belly. He slid the pad of his thumb down further, covering your swollen clit as it perched above your stretched opening. He massaged it, slowly rubbing tiny circles around it as the most sensual moans escaped your lips.

“Do it again.” He punctuated his sentence with a hard thrust. He hit you so deep that your entire body convulsed as his tip kissed the entrance to your womb.

“Ha~aah!” you wailed as your body tensed, your hot cum coating his stiff cock all over again, your breaths vibrating against his other hand as he gripped the back of your neck, nearly inflicting pain.

Your pleading face washed red... your mouth gaped open as you took the entirety of his thick length deep inside your heat, tightening even more around him as the next song hummed.

When We – Tank

“I'm making you feel this way.” Megumi drawled into your ear. He continued his deep thrusts, “It'll ... always be me.” He moaned, drilling himself into your ear and your throbbing pussy, then pulling out, feeling the residual heat from your insides before he plunged in again, his hand tightening its firm grip on your ass.

He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster, skin on skin slapping, beating relentlessly as the lewd sound echoed off of the walls of his loft, forcing louder moans from your lips.

“That's it, sweetness... ~haah ~ yeah~...” He pressed his face against your cheek, his breath wafting down your neck, jet-black strands tickling your skin, sending chills up and down your spine.

“Open up that pretty pussy... let me in... I'll die inside.” he gripped your neck tighter, his strong arm locking you in place as he beat his name into the depths of your core.

He moved to lightly press his open mouth against yours as he held your throat and you both exchanged air, bodies shuddering from the intensity as you moaned, “Ngh!!!” unable to say anything more.

Megumi breathed directly into your mouth softly, “God, I missed you... you're doing so good, baby.” he purred, “Cum ... let me feel you cum again for me.”

You began to sob underneath him, oversensitive and overworked, but dying with pleasure as he commanded you, rutting hard into your heat as he dipped his tongue into your mouth, sucking at your swollen lips, then slid his wet muscle slowly down your chin, massaging your throat with hot kisses, back up your jaw, to your cheek, then back to your lips.

You whimpered softly ... “Me~gumi ... ha~ah... haah” behind the warm tears seeping down the sides of your flushed cheeks.

“You're so fucking sweet...” he praised as he rocked his hips into you, “So good and so sweet…” he continued, feeling you tighten around him. “You remember being on your knees for me, hm?” he whispered into the shell of your ear, “Being a good little slut for me? ... Lemme hear it...”

It hit you again like a tidal wave “y–yes ... s–sir... you murmured, as your pupils pulsed with hearts. “I'm ... I'm cu–cumming! ... Fuck... y-yeeea~ah!”

Megumi released your neck, gliding his fingers into your hair as you came, fisting it into the top of your head as he fucked you silly and filled you with spend, the warmth coating your insides beautifully as you milked him dry.

This man was unequivocally yours. And you really were his. Ask him to do anything, he'll do it. Your name was branded onto his heart and his body melded into yours.

And you, you couldn't imagine being without him. Where could you go and not desire him? He fulfilled you in a way that no one else could. He was IT for you. And it was not hard to recognize.

You were head over heels in love with him.

You loved and wanted every bit of him. His quirks, his faults, his issues, his blemishes, his love. All of it. He supported you, cared for you, regarded you, considered you, and made you feel fucking amazing.

So you let go and allowed yourself to fall. And as afraid as you were, you realized you already had. Deeply.

Megumi remained inside you, refusing to disconnect, resting in your warmth as the high washed over you both. He pressed his face against your cheek and breathed,

“I love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

Your eyes parted, a bit of light shining through Megumi's large window, the curtains pulled open, revealing the dark morning sky. You were slightly disoriented, having awakened in his room. The moment you recalled where you were, a feeling of deep satisfaction washed over you. Happiness.

Being with Megumi Fushiguro like this in his home, you felt so ... safe. No rush to leave, no pressure to go home, no awkwardness or confusion, no feelings of being out of place or unwelcome as has happened other times in your adult life. There were no questions or doubts. Just comfort, safety, and peace.

You took a deep breath as you peered through the mostly dark at his pretty sleeping face. The man that you already know you have decided to give yourself over to. How long has it been since you've felt this? Have you ever felt like this?

Love Song – 311

played softly on his speaker as you reached your hand over to brush your fingers through his hair. You smiled warmly as you took in his not-so-subtle beauty, the feeling of never wanting to leave this spot, weighing your body down comfortably.

Your fingers slid slowly up and down his muscular arm, and you reluctantly turned away from his face, moving to exit the bed. His hand suddenly wrapped around your waist, stopping you.

“Where are you going?” he asked in a muffled, sleepy voice.

You turned back to him, “To the bathroom, babe.” You whispered, kissing him on the cheek, your lips lingering on his face as your fingers curled around his neck.

“Mmmh...” Megumi moaned in deep relaxation. “Don't leave.”

You smiled warmly. “I wouldn't dare.” You whispered as you turned to look at his clock, noticing it was just past 7am. You got up and grabbed your phone, wandering off to the bathroom.

Megumi watched as you slid it off of the bedside table, unable to sate his curiosity regarding who you'd possibly want to contact at this hour.

Regardless, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of enjoying your presence with him right here and now, after you had just given him one of the best and most gratifying nights of his life. He usually spent every night here, or at his studio, alone, waking up to only his body, the quiet of his personal space, with only reminders of his accomplishments and hard work to keep him vaguely warm.

But, having someone, you specifically, to share his space with, to wake up to, someone he knows well, someone who really gets him and shares his likes and his life, is so fulfilling, it'd be a true crime to go back to the way it was.

And just how was it again? What was it like before you?

You turned to peek at his beautiful form as he lay under his black blankets, his soft, pale skin and pretty blue eyes peering back toward you in your birthday suit as you stepped into his oversized adidas slides and your robe you brought.

The look of him warmed your heart as you fought the urge to jump back into bed and wrap yourself in his arms, forcing yourself to look away.

You disappeared around the frame of his room door, crossing the hall into the bathroom, then closing the door behind you to be sure you could have the conversation you wanted without it reaching his ears. You turned on the shower, sat on the toilet and dialed the number.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Maki?”

“Girl... It's SO early!” she huffed, her voice laced with annoyance.

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry.” You whispered. “I had to take an opportunity since he's not close by. So, when can we do this?” You asked, cupping your hand over your mouth. “It's so close... I wanna be sure to finish in time.”

“Definitely tonight for sure.” She answered. “The guys agreed to practice what you sent, and they think they're ready for your first visit. Also, I talked to her, and she says she's cleared.”

You suddenly feel butterflies fluttering in your belly. “Oh my god, I'm so nervous!” you squeaked, “I told him I had to work later. How can we keep him from the studio?” You questioned, turning toward the door in case he barged in.

“Yuji promised to manage that. And Ino will be here with us. He's gonna take care of the drums.”

“Yes!!” you giggled, almost too loud, shrinking quickly, covering your mouth again. “Agh! You're the BEST! Okay! I'll see you at three, right?”

“Yup. Three sharp! His birthday is in a week.” Maki replied, “Oh, and be prepared. He's not gonna like that we did this.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Yeah, I figured as much, but you know I don't care, right? I can't wait to piss him off a little.” You said, with a wrinkle in your nose.

“Oh my God girl, you're exactly right for him. Ha-ha!” Maki says, joking but serious.

You suddenly hear a light knock on the door. You turned, slightly startled, per your attempt to be sneaky. “Yeah?” you answered.

“Hey, you want waffles?”

“Yum! Yes! Thank you!” you said to Megumi, then turned back toward the phone to reply to Maki, whispering, “Okay I gotta go! I'll see you later!”

“Okay, don't accidently spill the tea.” she answers.

“Hehehe... I'll try not to.” You replied, ending the call.

A warm feeling slowly engulfed your heart as you gently squeezed the phone in your hand, plopping it down in your lap as you exhaled, then slowly inhaled the lingering smell of Megumi on your skin, and in the bathroom from his soaps and personal belongings in this space as your eyes floated around the room.

A smile spread across your face as you hurried and stripped down, hopping into the shower so as not to appear more suspicious than you already did.

*~*~*~*~*

Fade Away – Lucky Daye

now played on his flat screen. So, you have to work later, huh?” Megumi asked, stuffing his mouth with a forkful of waffles that had no syrup.

“Yup” you answered. “Those have gotta be dry.” You teased, frowning.

“Yea, a little.” He shrugged. “But they're already sweet. And I have coffee.”

“True. They're also tasty though. I didn't realize you were such a good cook.” You said, smiling.

“I had to cook a lot as a kid. I learned pretty early. My mom didn't spend much time at home with me and my sister before she passed, and my dad wasn't around ... until he was.” His eyebrows jumped as he stabbed another bundle of waffles onto his fork before his eyes flicked back up at you.

You gazed at him thoughtfully, considering that you had actually not had many conversations with him about his parents. Or his sister. “Are you and your sister still close?”

“We are. We don't talk as much as we'd like to though, since she's studying abroad and pretty busy. I'd say we chat like...” he squinted as he shook his head slowly, “two to three times a week?”

A smirk curled into your lips as you nodded slowly, his vulnerability making your heart flutter a bit. You watched him eating, that relaxed, pouty, blank look on his face ironically enveloping you in more warmth. He was always so adorable, and you couldn't wait to embarrass him to pieces.

You recalled talking to him a bit about his parents yesterday before the show at “dinner”, and he told you that he got along well with them both. He mentioned that they all had a hard time after his mom passed, and Toji disappeared for a while, leaving him alone with his sister. When he finally came back, he worked hard to get closer to Megumi and Tsumiki and earn their trust again.

Regardless of it all, Megumi grew up to be a beautiful person, caring for his sister under difficult circumstances, and still becoming a powerful presence, now on his way to being a full-fledged star. Which, you already felt he was. You loved everything about him, whether he was the leader of a rock band or a janitor.

“Do you think I could meet her sometime?” you finally uttered, curious what he thought of it.

“I don't mind at all. And I think she'd like that.” His lids fell over his eyes ever so slightly as he peered over at you, slowly chewing the last of his waffle, leaning back in his seat. “So... what do you wanna do until you have to go to work?”

“Hmm... I dunno. It's too cold to go out at the moment. And I still have quite a while before I have to be there. Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yup.” He replied.

“Okay. I'll get this, you get the movie?” You said as you stood to grab the dishes from the table.

“Cool. I'll get a quick shower while you do that and come right back.” He said.

You watched out of the corner of your eye, stuffing the dishwasher with your plates as he reached for the remote, choosing a romance film.

~*~*~*~*~

You were surprised at how exhausted you were with all the work you'd been doing, but you gathered that it must be the adrenaline keeping you afloat as you walked quickly toward your office building from the train station.

It had already been 4 days since you saw Megumi last, and today, you had to run in to work to grab a few things before heading to his studio, hopefully long before he showed up with Yuji.

When you texted, you told him you were working, and it was already about six twenty-five. You were scheduled to be at the studio by seven. You were in quite a hurry, hoping you could grab your drive from your desk and head back. You stepped off the elevator and turned the corner to walk the aisle to your desk, only to see someone already sitting there.

“Um... May I help you?” you asked with a frown, tilting your head to the side as you tried to get a look at the stranger's face as he sat typing at your computer. You were considerably surprised at how he managed, since it had been locked.

The stranger didn't turn to look at you, his demeanor devoid any regard for the fact that he was absolutely not supposed to be all up in your personal space. “No, I think I can manage. Thanks.” He replied in a deep voice, quite nonchalantly.

You huffed, “Perhaps you can, but ... what exactly are you doing at my desk?” you asked, rolling your eyes from behind his back. He appeared to be extremely well built, tall, and had tattoos all up and down his bulky, muscular arms, most of them hidden behind his barely transparent white oxford which he had rolled halfway up his forearms.

“Last I checked it belonged to the company.” He replied rather rudely, still without even bothering to turn and look at you.

You scoffed, now irritated. “Pardon me, but who are you?”

He sighed as if tired of being asked any questions. “I, am Sukuna.” He answered, still seated in the opposite direction as he continued to type away. “And who, pray tell, are you?” he asked, squinting as he leaned in toward the screen, rummaging through your apps.

“I'm the owner of all the belongings you're currently hovering over and the files you've invaded. I'll need you to please remove yourself from my desk.”

Sukuna turned himself around to face you finally, seemingly annoyed as he frowned, his expression softening, and morphing from irritated to slightly amused after setting eyes on your face, shocked at your audacity as he leaned back in your seat, crossing his arms.

You crossed yours in response, raising your eyebrows, blinking a few times with pursed lips as you waited for him to comply.

He chuckled, locking eyes with you “Well well...” he huffed as he finally stood slowly, towering nearly a foot above you, his eyes widening. “Looks like we have a live one in this department.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa...” Geto chimed in, power walking over from around the corner to explain what's going on. He quickly introduced you, “this is Sukuna. You remember we spoke briefly about him coming by to help us out here, right?”

“Mmmm” you replied, your eyes flicking from Geto back to Sukuna, looking him up and down as he smirked back at you. “I wasn't aware my privacy would be in question upon his arrival.”

“Oh, it isn't. I politely offered my services since you're a little ... overwhelmed.” He seemed to love the sound of his own voice as his words drawled from his mouth past the pretentious look on his face.

“Well, um ... 'Sukuna', is it?” you replied, “that tends to happen when a single person is processing the work of five. But we appreciate your assistance. Were you looking for something in particular among my personal belongings?”

Geto took a deep breath as he noted the obvious tension between the two of you, “My apologies, we needed these documents,” he handed a piece of paper over to you with a list, as your glare continued to cut into Sukuna's gaze.

“You happened to be the only one who had them downloaded. I apologize for not calling you about it sooner, but we're on a deadline and needed them quickly.” Geto explained.

You gently took the paper from him, taking a quick peek before handing it back to him, moving toward your seat which was directly behind Sukuna. “If you'll ... excuse me?” you requested.

Sukuna motioned, stretching out one of his hands, granting you access to your own desk, the corners of his lips turning down a little in the corners.

You sat for a few moments, taking a deep breath as you felt their eyes on your back. You quickly pressed a few keys, pushed your mouse around, hit a few clicks, then swiveled in your chair back to Geto. “All done, and all sent to your primary. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“Uh,” he paused, his eyes flicking to Sukuna then back to you as he pressed his lips into a hard line. “No, I think that'll be fine for now”.

Sukuna continued to glare your direction, with his large arms crossed, “Except... I'll need you to hang out here for a few hours to answer some questions about that project.” He uttered as his eyes traveled up and down your frame.

“Yeah...” you shook your head and shrugged, “I'm afraid that's a commitment I'm unable to keep at the moment since I have prior engagements.” You replied sharply, nodding at the end of your statement with a tiny smirk. “Also, that's a request generally made by management?”

He paused for a moment, seemingly entertained by your snarky disposition. “Well, unfortunately for you, one of the requirements of this position is to be available for overtime at the request of management ... which I currently am.” He retorted, squinting slightly as his lips turned up slyly at you.

Your eyes widened as you turned them toward Geto, hoping to hear reason escape his lips.

“I think we can manage without her just this once, huh Sukuna?” he chuckled in a way that you hardly found funny, patting Sukuna on the shoulder who maintained his curious gaze at you as you cut your eyes toward Geto.

“Well, I just came by to pick up a few things.” You turned to grab your jump drive that you hadn't realized you left inside the port in front of your computer. You yanked it out, turning toward Geto. “See you tomorrow?”

“We most certainly will.” Sukuna answered, regardless of the fact that you weren't talking to him. You rose from your desk, the feeling of his eyes resting on you making you shudder with discomfort. His gaze remained locked on you as it followed you around the corner, until you disappeared back to the elevator.

*~*~*~*~*

Blood Money - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

played on the studio speaker as you sat on the couch. “I wanted to kick his smug ass.” You said to Nobara, rolling your eyes as she sat next to you behind Ino's panel.

“Shit, I don't blame you. What the hell is up with Geto these days? He seems to be leaning on you quite a bit for the well-being of that office. Maybe it's time you asked for another raise.”

“Yeah, no kidding. That Sukuna character is gonna be a real headache for sure. Thank God I didn't have to actually stay there today. I told Megumi I was going to work, now I don't have to feel bad for lying to him. You chuckled, I actually did have to 'work'.” You said, shaking your head.

“Well, he's out with Yuji now, they won't be here until around 9, so I think you're in the clear.”

“Nice.” You replied.

“Hey lady, you're up!” Ino called, spinning around in his chair toward you and Nobara.

You smiled over your shoulder at your bestie before heading over to the sound booth and the live microphone.

“Don't freak out, singer.” Choso teased. “We got you”.

You scrunched your nose up at him and smiled, then spoke into the mic to help Ino adjust it to your voice. “But it's only been a couple days.” Your voice reverberated off the walls beautifully after speaking into that expensive microphone. “You guys have this memorized already?”

“Who you think you're talking to?” Choso quipped, and they all chuckled. “Nah, I'm just kidding, we're good though.” He continued. “We have the track here if we screw anything up, but we've gone over it quite a few times at home separately and together, so don't worry.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, cringing a little at his pretend arrogance, but he was right. Your music was hardly anywhere near as complicated as theirs, but you still wanted everything to be perfect. Megumi deserved for you to try your best, though you knew he wouldn't care if you did the whole thing wrong especially in a situation like this. He would love your singing.

“Okay lets do this.” you said, as you waited for Ino to queue you in.

*~*~*~*~*

The rehearsal was a success. A million pounds of weight seemed to be lifted from your shoulders after it was all done.

You went down the line, hugging each of the band members for working with you so well. You couldn't believe how fast they grasped the material, though they are all experts, so it really shouldn't have surprised you as much.

“Are you guys sure you're comfortable singing backup for me?” You said to Maki, after hugging her last.

“Not uncomfortable in the slightest.” Choso replied, “I figured you had chops, but damn, girl!”

“For real.” Yuta interjected. “I'm gonna love playing for you. With vocals like that? It's an honor.”

“Fire.” Toge chimed, as he nodded.

“Seriously, quit worrying.” Maki reassured. “It was perfect.”

“And it will be perfect, no matter what.” Ino chimed. “Who wrote that anyway?”

“I did.” You answered. “I had it all in my head but couldn't play all the parts the way I wanted to, so I just roughly attempted them on the guitar.” You shook your head. “You guys brought this music to life in a way that I never dreamed I'd hear it. I'm so grateful.” You said, holding your hand up to your mouth as tears came to your eyes.

“Megumi's just ... I want him to love it.” you looked around to them all, “And I couldn't have asked for a better sound in a million years. Thank you so much you guys.”

“Anytime.” Ino replied, as an adorable smile graced his face. “No, seriously. Any time. You must be planning to finish an album, right? That voice and that music can't go to waste. I won't allow it.”

“Oh my god, I can't afford you, Ino.” You muttered behind a nervous laugh.

“Girl... you heard me. You're on deck.” He said as he gathered his things.

You looked over at Choso as he nodded in agreement with his eyebrows raised, along with the rest of the band, their expressions a warning that you'd probably better get your shit together while they're all on the same page about supporting.

“Seriously, y'all are gonna make me cry!” You said, as you turned to walk quickly out the booth door toward Nobara with a huge smile on your face, and an equal amount of embarrassment.

Ino shook his head at you, snickering as he said his goodbyes, in a rush to leave out the back door early to avoid Megumi seeing him since he wanted to surprise him with his visit.

“Girl! That was fucking amazing!! I'm so excited for you!” Nobara said, smiling widely, and extremely excited.

You plopped down on the couch next to her, covering your face with your hands. “Thanks, love. I'm really freaking out right now, but it's gotta be done.”

“Tch... You know he's gonna kick your ass, right?”

“Hehe, yeah... or kiss it if I'm lucky.” You mumbled as you looked at her out the corner of your eye.

Nobara's entire face opened up in shock as she laughed. “Ahhh!! Oh my god, listen to you!” She pushed your shoulder off of her as she teased you, and you both giggled.

Just then, your phone rang, interrupting your moment with a call from a number you didn't recognize.

You finished giggling as you explained, “I think I might have to take this. Gimme a sec.” you held out your finger as you stepped out of the inner studio to the open area.

Something In the Way – Nirvana

played on the speaker as you answered.

“Hello?”

The caller asked if you were available without bothering to introduce himself, in a deep, stern voice.

“Speaking, how can I help you?”

“This is Sukuna. I'm calling to inquire about the overtime we discussed.”

You flinched, considering you must have misheard the name. “Who?” you replied.

“I'm pretty sure you remember me. It's Sukuna. Your manager?”

You paused in disbelief. Waiting to hear something reasonable come from the other side of that line.

“Our deadline is fast approaching, and it seems we need all the help we can get on this project.” He continued.

You couldn't believe this man had the mitigated gall to contact you on your private line, actually demanding work from you on your day off.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but again, I won't be available until tomorrow morning as scheduled.” You frowned angrily, your tone firming, “Just exactly how did you obtain my personal number?”

“I requested it from Geto. I'm making calls to our subordinates, offering the opportunity to acquire more income as well as –”

“Excuse me,” your eyes pressed shut “did you just say, subordinates?” you scoffed. Geto never spoke to his employees that way. Though you did work “under” him, he was far more likely to use the term “team member”. It was clear that this man was already bringing down the morale in the workplace and now doing the same in your personal space outside of that.

“Yes,” he continued, “we are your superiors are we not? There are a few who've agreed to work a few extra hours tonight as we have quite a bit to accomplish and will require as many hands as possible.”

“I'm sorry, but... were you not hired for this very reason, Sukuna? As a longtime employee of this company, I'd like to suggest you take this as an opportunity not only to legitimize your position there, but to reinforce Geto's faith in your abilities.”

Your phone began to ring just then from another line. You glanced at it, noticing yet another number you were unable to recognize.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another call coming through. I'll be happy to speak with Geto at a later date if you'd like to discuss this further. Have a good evening.” you rolled your eyes as you ended the call abruptly, answering the next one.

“Hello?” you answered, your tone possibly a little too curt.

“Hello? ... Um... this is Tsumiki? ... I'm calling for –”

“Oh hi!” You introduced yourself, your voice softening immediately. “Tsumiki! I'm so glad you called. I'm happy to hear from you! I want to thank you for being a part of this.”

“Oh of course. It's not a problem in the least! I'm glad someone is doing it because as you probably know, he would never.”

You chuckled a bit. “Not in a million years. I just hope he doesn't kill me after.”

“You and me both.” She replied with a giggle.

“So, you'll be able to make it? I mean, it won't put a strain on you, right?”

“Not at all.” She replied happily, “I'll be there with bells on. I'm ecstatic to see him. It's been too long. It'll settle my mind to know how he's been doing all this time. To see all his friends, and to be sure he's well. And It'll be great to meet you, too.”

You hear the door open to the studio from outside the building as Yuji and Megumi stumble in, Yuji, teasing him about something silly. You turned back toward the phone covering your mouth as you spoke.

“Oh my God, same! I'm so excited but he's here I gotta go!”. You whispered with your hand over the phone, regrettably rushing her off as you turned toward the boys who seemed too distracted to notice you.

“Okay! I'll shoot you a text when I land.” She replied before she hung up.

Megumi and Yuji arrived at around 9:30, far more than just a bit tipsy as you could tell by their conversation. Yuji worked to keep Megumi facing his direction to distract him as you ducked by. You'd hoped to escape his view as you rushed back to the control room from the foyer where they'd entered.

You scurried over to where Nobara was sitting and plopped down next to her on the couch just as the boys wandered into the room.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Nobara asked as she got up to hug Yuji.

Megumi did a double take as he noticed you, staring down at you with a wrinkle in his forehead as he turned the rest of his body your direction.

“Aaand what are you doing here?” He asked, quietly, holding his liquor almost as well as he holds his drumsticks.

“Hey. I'm just hanging out.” You shrugged. “Don't mind me.”

He stared at you for a beat, his eyes looking you over in that way. “What are you up to?” he asked, his face scrunching in suspicion.

“Up to?” you replied, your eyebrows pressing upward into your forehead as you looked around, puzzled. “Me?”

“Yeah. YOU.” he huffed, “You've been acting weird lately. What's up with you?”

“Uh...” you chuckled. “Nothing... I'm just hanging out with my friends!”

His gaze minimized into a squint as it bored into yours. “Commere for a sec.” he leaned in, reaching for your hand, waiting for you to place it in his so he could pull you up from the couch.

“Whats up Megz?” Yuji asked, as Nobara leaned closer into their hug.

“Nothing...” Megumi replied as you gave him your hand. He scanned your body out the corner of his eye with slightly pursed lips as he pulled you toward the door. He was quite wasted... and severely uninhibited, likely triggered by your unexpected presence.

“Megumi... what are you –?” you asked as he led you toward his office, pushing your body in front of him as he pressed you into the room with his, closing and locking the door behind him.

Summer Walker – CPR

played on his system as he walked slowly toward you with both hands behind his back. “You're up to something.”

Ugh... Fucking smartass.

You thought, as you stumbled around to his glare with him an inch away from your face, slowly forcing you to step backward, deeper into the room.

You scoffed, crossing your arms, eyelids fluttering as you licked your lips. “You have a problem with me being at your studio Megz?” You asked, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

“Tch. No, I don't, and you know that.” He replied, a sway in his step and his eyes still little as he peered at you. “Now, tell me what the fuck you're up to.”

You snickered at his misplaced seriousness, your mouth gaping open at him cussing at you, as you found it terribly amusing how his well-put-together, relaxed demeanor was in a bit of a mess, his cheeks beet red from his drinks.

“I told you, I'm not 'up to' anything.” You replied, in a huff, uncrossing your arms, holding your hands out, palms up as if to prove they were empty. “Noby told me you went out with Yuji and would be back here, so I came after work!” You rolled your eyes and sighed. Look, I’ve had a long day. Can we just go back now?” you said as you attempted to bypass him, heading toward the door.

He quickly gripped your arm, pulling you back as he continued to peer down at you, “You're lying” he said with an upward nod. He hadn't raised his voice, but it was clear he was skeptical, scrutinizing your features and behavior, wheels clearly turning in his head, obviously oiled by the alcohol.

“I heard you secretly giggling on the phone in the bathroom at my place the other day, and again just now. You didn't spend all night at work because I saw you in town at six-thirty. The fuck are you tip toeing around for?” He went on, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he took another step, far too close to you.

You huffed, snickering at his attitude. “Megumi...” your voice nearly a whisper as you challenged his concern. “Fucking relax, okay? You're intoxicated. Chill. I'm just here to hang out with you at the studio.” You kept smiling, so entertained by his behavior you practically gave yourself away since it made you appear to be lying all the more.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his eyes bouncing between each of yours before he grabbed your wrist, walking you from the doorway of his office to the empty portion of his adjacent wall that displayed less of his trophies, and contained enough space to fit your bodies.

“I'll say it one more time. Tell me what you're doing.” He demanded again as his fingers slid up your forearm from your wrist, curling around your bicep as his gaze traveled across your breasts.

“What the fuck, Megumi? I'm sus for talking on the phone?”

“No,” he said, glancing up. “You're sus for making your conversations a secret.”

You paused, staring back. “Are you kidding me? You're too smart for your own fucking good you know that?” you mumbled, your heart beating faster by the second as you swallowed thickly, having some idea where his head was at.

He pressed his left palm flat against the wall behind you to the right of your head. “Maybe I am, but you'll pay for it.” he drawled as his head cocked to the side and his glassy eyes scanned your figure.

“And … what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I'm holding you accountable.” He leaned in even closer to the shell of your ear. “Turn around and pull your skirt up.”

You suddenly let out a breath you had no idea you were holding as you cut your eyes toward him, only able to see his neck from this angle as he buried his head in the crook of yours, inhaling you. The aroma of soap and incense swirled in your senses as his right hand inched up your shirt from the waist. “Clearly, you're a little … anxious right now … Megumi … “you breathed, your skin tingling hot and sensitive where he touched.

He scoffed, leaning back, flashing a mischievous grin. “You're a terrible liar.” He murmured calmly as his sleepy eyes continued to rake over you. “Now do what you're told.”

Your eyes fluttered as you felt your core clench. You surveyed his features, finding nothing but resolve and hunger in his eyes as you anticipated his next move. “You don't trust me?” you said, literally standing your ground as you peered up at him through your lashes. “I'm … hurt …”

Megumi's stepped the last inch toward you, closing the gap between his chest and yours as your back pressed flush against the wall. He turned his head down toward your ear, “I'll get it out of you.” he spoke, pressing his knee between your legs. You flinched as his thigh brushed against your clothed clit, your skirt hiking up almost completely, his hand moving higher from your waist until it cupped around your breast over your bra. 

You could feel your body succumbing, heat pooling in your core as he trapped your nipple between his index and thumb, tugging the sensitive nub as it slowly grew harder. He squeezed as he watched pink fill your cheeks. With each flinch, your clit was teased even more. His left hand curled around your neck, as he buried his face in the other side and his jet-black strands brushed against your skin. 

Not You Too – Drake (feat. Chris Brown)

“Wh – What are you doing?” you whined as he pressed his body harder against you, your hands gripping his sleeves on each side, pressing forward into his biceps in a futile effort to push him away. “There's nothing to... fucking talk about...” 

He huffed as he flicked out his tongue, planting a wet open-mouthed kiss to the base of your neck, then slid one long stroke up to your earlobe, sending a sharp tingle down that entire side of your body, eliciting a whimper from your lips.

Your breathing intensified as he continued, both of his hands moving to grip the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your breasts. He buried his face between them, his hands moving to grip each side as he pressed them into his cheeks he sucked hot pink blotches into your smooth skin. Tinges of pain pierced through you as you struggled to maintain your composure, your clit rubbing along the rough grain of his jeans.

Megumi seemed to disappear into his very own world, wetting your chest with his hot tongue and saliva. He curled his fingers around the hem of your bra, pulling down each side, both of your hardened nipples bouncing out toward him. With a low groan, his lips immediately pursed around one, sucking feverishly, his cheeks caving as your entire areola disappeared into his mouth while his other hand gripped and pinched the opposite nub. 

As your moans grew louder, he seemed to grow more desperate as he continued, his mouth giving attention to the other side, your tender nub now exposed to the chill in the air as the pad of his thumb now slid across the slick he'd left behind. “Me~gumi...! Ngh!” You whined, fisting his shirt even tighter as you tried to keep quiet. 

Megumi sucked hard one last time, then looked up from your soft chest, “Ah … I love that pretty voice.” He grumbled as he moved his other leg between yours, spreading your thighs wider. His left hand moved between your legs as he lifted your thigh, propping it up with his arm. 

His breath ghosted down your neck as his right hand squeezed each part of your body it passed as it made its way to your matching cotton panties. “I love this pretty pussy, too...” he breathed as his long fingers slid across your clit in circular motions as they moved further down, teasing your entrance as his palm rested on your pubic bone. 

“F-fuck, Megumi!” you whispered, breathing heavily as he pressed his torso into you, and your head pressed back against the wall. “Our friends are out there.”

“And? They'll be alright ... these rooms are soundproofed.” he held your thigh up along in his left forearm as he gazed at you lustfully, his hand squeezing your ass from under your leg as he toyed with your middle in the other. “and I said start talking.”

“Ngh... No!” You refused. “We need to stop…” you whimpered.

“No?” he spoke into your neck as he bent down further, pushing his knees against the wall and his hips between your legs, spreading them even wider. His soft lips planted a warm, wet kiss on your neck as his hand slipped under the hem of your panties, dipping past your folds, soaking in your slick as he glided his fingers slowly back and forth. “You say that” he whispered, “yet here you are again, being my sweet little slutty girl...” He drummed in your ear. “C'ept now you're in trouble.” 

You pushed your hands against his chest to move him away as electricity coursed through your body and spread through every limb, but he pressed harder against you, resisting. “Megu–”

“Don't say shit unless you're gonna come clean.” he breathed through his teeth as he watched your face flush hot pink, and his middle fingers moved faster, catching your tingling clit between them as you squirmed.

He smirked as he watched your reactions, yet irritated by the barrier of fabric between you. He moved both hands to the thin strap of your panties, the fabric on your opposite hip, digging into the surface of your skin as he easily ripped the strap apart, allowing them to fall along your leg to the floor.

Your body shook as you whimpered, “O-oh my god... ~mmmfuck!~”

Megumi opened his mouth and pressed it against your whimpering lips, the tip of his wet tongue inching past them teasingly, gliding against the tip of yours as his fingers played with your now sopping pussy. Your propped leg bent around his opposite elbow, tensing as his hand pressed hard against the wall, locking you in place.

“~Haaah...” Megumi breathed, his eyes rolling back as his mind numbed, the pleasure from the sensation of your wetness on his digits hypnotizing him. He continued to glide his slippery tongue across the front of your lips, refusing to sink it deeper as of yet, the lingering flavor of Guinness barely making it to your tastebuds as his fingers mimicked its ministrations, swirling messily around your wet folds.

“Y– you're... gonna m– make me cum!” You warned as your hips jerked under his aggressive hand.

“Mmhmm...” He grunted, the pads of his fingers slipping around your clit, then dipping suddenly as he plunged them deep inside you, curling perfectly into your sweet spot. “so hot … and so fucking tight” he hissed.

“Aaaah... fuuuh~! Your lower lip quivered as you clenched around his fingers, your juices now dripping along his veiny hand.

“I told you to address me as, ‘Sir’”. He spoke into your lips as he removed his hand from the wall, gripping your thigh to lift it a little more around his waist, which you reflexively squeezed into place around him.

You felt yourself coming completely undone; his fingers working your insides forcing heat to pool in your core, your hips jerking uncontrollably, your bottom lip quivering against his as he spoke “I have... N-nothing to say...!” it was coming, and coming fast. “Ngh!”

It was so hard to resist him. He could truly be a menace if he wants to apparently, but somehow it just didn't fucking matter. 

“Tch” ... Megumi scoffed, “nothing huh?” he griped as his eyes locked with yours for a moment just before his lips crashed eagerly into yours and he plunged his tongue down your throat.

Your moans becoming more desperate as the lewd, squelching sounds rang with sheer vulgarity in your ears as he sank his fingers inside you to the knuckle. Your pussy throbbed as your sopping canal tightened around his long fingers. He quickly lowered himself under your leg as he propped it over his shoulder, your other thigh widening in response as it stood shakily on the tip of your toes. 

He peered up at you, pupils blown out dark as he locked his mouth around your pussy, his tongue making maddening circles around your clit as he plunged his fingers in and out of your hole.

You reached for purchase along the wall behind you, finding none, then swiftly moved to grip the black strands of his hair, wailing out as he fucked you relentlessly with his mouth and fingers. “N – no! Mmgh! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!” you warned as your core erupted fiercely and your hot juices poured into his mouth from beneath you.

Megumi hummed with explicit satisfaction as he drank you down, firmly gripping your ass, pulling your body against himself as you fisted his hair between your fingers and literally rode out your high on his face. Your mouth gaped open as you trembled, your quivering body unable to come down as your eyes fluttered shut.

Megumi peered past your breasts with you still in his mouth, the view of your beautiful face making his dick even harder as he watched you cum. He passed multiple strokes across your pussy with his tongue, licking and sucking you clean, sliding it up from your opening through your folds with each pass, then planted a wet kiss to your clit before he stood, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand, then licking his lips. 

He leaned in with a sly grin. “Just look at that pretty face.” He purred with utter satisfaction on his. “I'm sure you're ready to obey now... unless you want more...”

Dazed, you peered at his reddened face through your lashes. “I ... t – told you...” Your breath hitching between words. Your body was growing limp, trembling all over as you propped yourself against the wall. 

WTH – Jene Aiko

played on his speaker. His left hand moved up to grip your neck as he pressed his lips into yours, the taste of your arousal lingering on his tongue as it lashed around your mouth and the clinking sound of his belt coming undone rang loud in your ears. “I guess I'll just have to take that sweet little pussy then huh?” he drawled as he peeled you from the wall, wrapping his arm around your waist as he, turned you to toss you onto the couch.

He plopped down on top of you, his voice drumming low and slow in your ears as he sucked at your lips, his uncharacteristically sloppy kisses hindering your access to oxygen as he then yanked at his boxers with his remaining hand, eager to release his throbbing dick from its confines.

Megumi pulled his pants down past his thighs, lifting your leg up to grant himself access. His opposite hand gripped his rock hard cock as you suddenly felt its hot tip pressing eagerly against your entrance.

… “I'll make an honest woman outta you … “he warned, as his hard, angry head inched further into your soft hole, both his grip around the back of your knee, and your core around nothing, tightening in anticipation. He pressed in harder, your folds blossoming for him as his large member stretched you deliciously. 

Your entire being shuddered as he made his way inside, your body responding to the warmth of his tongue, the feeling of his hot breath ghosting down your neck, and his strong hand wrapped around your thigh… You couldn't help it. Shouldn't you be embarrassed? Shouldn't you tell him to stop? It had become too easy. You, had become far too easy for him. As far as you were concerned, he could do no wrong. Or … maybe he could … if you weren't such a fucking masochist.

He pressed his body weight against you, pinning you down, your slick overflowing, allowing him to glide in with ease.  “Ngh ~ so … fucking good...” he moaned, sinking deeper inside.

“S'too … big … hngh!” You whined to no avail as your trembling hands gripped the fabric of his shirt into crumpled balls behind his neck and at his waist. His hand curled under your other leg, lifting your thigh around his forearm, both of his hands now firmly gripping your ass, your legs now propped over his shoulders.

“Why are you so fucking wet?” he grunted into your mouth, thrusting his hips aggressively forward, pausing inside at the end of each to savor the feeling of hitting so perfectly inside you. “You're ... dripping while I'm ~ haaah ~ doing this shit to you?”  His words droned out between thrusts. “The fuck is wrong with you... huh?”

You muffled your whine, and your core gripped him like a vice, even more so as he mocked you. “So fucking nasty” … he moaned hot into your ear, your arms wrapped around his neck as he drove his rock-hard cock into your sloppy cunt. “Yeah… you like being a n~nasty little slut f'me…”

All that could spill from your lips was a whimper as he pounded into you, his voice and words arousing you, making you crazy.

“Mmhhhh that's it... you know better... open up for daddy” he prompted with a roll of his hips, rocking himself unbelievably deeper into your core.

“Meg~gumi! Ngh!!” You screwed your eyes shut, your mouth gaping open into a silent scream his fingers slid down from the fat of your ass, inching closer to your pussy, widening your openings as the sounds of your juices squelching hummed obscenely through the quiet of his office.

Megumi drawled as his hot cock tapped your sweet spot repeatedly, each time, bringing tears to your eyes. “You're … ssshit … haah ~ giving my pussy away?”

“N ~ never!” you moaned, “Fuck you! … M~more!”

His body bobbed up and down as his glazed over blues pierced into your eyes behind his fierce frown, your insides massaging his length so good as he fucked you closer toward the edge.

You wailed out, moving one of your hands to cup your mouth, ensuring no one standing outside his door could hear you. Your core tightened fiercely as he thrusted one last time, pulling out just as you were about to cum.

“Haaah~fuck! Mmmmh! No no no … Please!  Your whimpers tickled his ears as he watched your pleading face and your pink lips.

Megumi leaned in, mushing his face into the side of yours, his lips at the shell of your ear, “You're so pretty when you beg... Please, what?” he dragged his mouth along your jaw, then planted wet kisses on your lips, sucking in your bottom lip again, “Mnngh...” he whispered, “Don't fuck with me.”

“How … dare you … think that.” You huffed, short of breath, your bottom lip quivering, “Are you … f ~ fucking crazy?” You griped, water pooling in your eyes as your entire body trembled in his arms. “Please... don't stop” you whispered.

You couldn't imagine wanting anyone, anything more. He was insane to think something like that would ever cross your mind. 

Megumi's gaze moved to your lips as he smashed his mouth into yours, plunging his tongue inside, your head tilting back as you opened your mouth wider, offering yourself up to him, your empty core squeezing nothing, begging him to reenter.

You whimpered as he pulled back from the kiss a moment, mumbling in a whisper, “Haah ~ give it back...”

“Give what back?”

“I … need you, Megumi.” You swallowed thickly,” I need your … cock... f~fuck me … please...” you whispered.

“Good girl.” His solid dick, standing at attention, needed no assistance as he aligned the tip with your hole, pressing in just a touch. He reached his hand around to grip it, sliding it around your slick folds up to your clit, teasing...

“Megumi... please” you whined “don't do that to me … hurry.”

He smirked, plunging back into your wet entrance, tunneling in to the hilt, your body in a full on mating press.

“Haaahhh! Fuck … yes!”

“Mmmgh...” he growled “Can't fucking get enough of this pussy...” as he drove it in harder, faster, chasing both your release and his. “I could stay inside you forever.”

“Ahhh yes! Yes! I'm coming... I'm … coming!” You wailed, as he forced himself into you again and again, your liquids oozing along the soft skin of his sack as it slapped against your ass, your hands finding their way up to his hair, his black strands tangling between your digits again as you gripped him.

He pressed in again, the base of his cock flush against your swollen entrance as he fucked and emptied his hot seed deep into your core, filling you completely. A guttural moan erupted from deep inside him as his entire body shook, and your arousal coated his oversensitive member.

He bowed his head, pressing his sweat soaked forehead into your cheek as the both of you caught your breath. His aroma wafted up your nose on your inhale, filling your entire body with him. 

You both lingered for a moment, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as you ran your fingers through his damp hair and you both slowed your breathing, your mind completely relaxed and satisfied, yet slightly uneasy per the possibility of your friends still being in the next room over.

Megumi partially put himself back together and stood, walking over to his desk where he pulled a container of wipes from the drawer. You watched as he pulled some from the package and brought them back over to you. He kneeled back down, warmed them for a moment in the palm of his hand and wiped you clean.

A small smile spread across your lips. “I can do that you know.”

“Tch,” Megumi's gaze flicked up to yours as you smirked at his sweet gesture. “Yeah, but why?” he huffed. “I got you into this mess. Literally.” He said as he balled up the wipes, tossing them into the trash can against the wall.

He sat up on his knees, stretching his arm across your thighs as you lay on the couch, his chin resting on your leg. “Look ... If uh” He looked down and away, as if preparing himself for what he was about to say. “... if you've got other stuff going on, you can just tell me.”

You flinched at his words as your heart pounded loud in your ears. “What?” You couldn't tear your eyes away from his as faint shudder tremored through you. “Even after all that? … Are – are you serious, Megumi?” you asked, as he looked down at his hands fidgeting with the hem of your wrinkled skirt.

“Sorry. I feel like I could be pushing you too hard. But I don't want you to feel pressure. If … we've moved too fast, and you don't … wa–”

“Stop.” you squeezed your eyes shut as his words seemed to generate actual pain in your chest. “No. There's no way.” You shook your head. “Regardless of whats going on with me, that's the absolute last thing on earth it would be.” Your eyes scanned his face. “I love you, too, Megumi. More than anyone, or anything else on this earth.”

You lifted his pink pouty face with your palm, peering into his eyes as tears formed in yours out of genuine concern that he may actually be crazy enough to believe you'd leave him. “I don't care how long it's been. If I could reach into my chest and remove my heart to give it to you, I would.”

Megumi leaned toward you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling heavily as if to breathe you in, his black strands tickling your skin. “It's late. You have work in the morning, right?” he said as his hand rested at the base of your neck.

“Yup. Noby's giving me a ride... if she's still here, that is.”

“Good. Cause you know I can't right now.”

“No. You can't.”

*~*~*~*~*

You were so glad you didn't need to see Sukuna's face for the next few days at work, since he was called away and ended up stuck working the projects he was hired for. You spent the next few days there, then rehearsing at home, making sure your performance would be flawless.

It was finally time to celebrate. You arrived at Nanami's with Nobara and Tsumiki. You walked toward the building, ecstatic to see exactly what would come of this surprise that you know will likely get you into a ton of trouble.

“Everyone's here” Nobara said, smiling over at you from the bar. “Nanami let us take over the place for the night, so Megumi's assuming it's gonna just be another dress rehearsal for their next show.”

“Okay, perfect!” you said, your voice squeaky and excited.

“Yuji says he's on his way. They should be here any second.” Todo said as he walked over to the three of you at the bar. Everyone was present, including many of the bar's VIP's that never miss a single one of their shows, most of them recognizable by Todo, Yuji, and the band.

“I'm so fucking nervous.” You said, as you took a deep breath, turning to look at both Tsumiki and Nobara, each of them sitting on either side of you as you shook out your hands and fidgeted with them anxiously.

Tsumiki rested a hand on your arm in reassurance. “Don't worry! I'm sure you'll be great! Nobara told me how good you are. Just trust yourself and everything will be perfect.” She said with a warm smile.

You exhaled quickly, “Yeah... Just relax...” you repeated her words to yourself.

Nobara squeezed your forearm. “You've got this. He's gonna love it.”

Adorn – Miguel

played on the speaker. You smile at her as suddenly everyone in the building began cheering the moment Megumi walked in with Itadori at his side.

Todo spotted them and immediately called out on the speaker from the front of the bar, “Here he is! The birthday boy, and the greatest rocker around, Meguumiiiii!”

You watched as air filled his lungs and his eyes widened in shock, then simultaneously roll as he shook his head, dropping his face toward the floor, then cutting his eyes up at Yuji, who grimaced, stepping a foot or so away from him slowly.

“I'm gonna fucking ki –” Megumi stopped mid-sentence as he watched you saunter over toward him, with his sister.

You watched as he caught her in his sights, stunned and wide-eyed. Your heart nearly melted at the look on his face, as it was more than obvious that he was happy to see her.

“Tsumiki...?” he said, almost as if he didn't really believe she was there.  As she reached up to hug him, a huge smile graced her pretty face.

Just as he formed his lips to ask “What –?”, shaking his head, he turned his attention toward you, meeting your gaze, then back and forth between you and his sister. The wrinkle in his forehead disappeared as he realized you were the one responsible.

His eyes smiled at you as his lips disappeared into his mouth and he averted his gaze, trying hard to hide the blush on his cheeks. It was the most adorable thing you'd ever seen.

Of course, you weren't as good at hiding yours as he was. You couldn't help but stand there admiring his pretty face, unable to contain the heat spreading outward through your body from the bottom of your heart.

“She's an amazing woman, Megumi.” Tsumiki said, smiling over at you as you continued to blush.

“Yeah.” He answered. “Yeah. She is.” He raked his gaze over you, taking in how hot you looked as the blood rushing to your cheeks rivaled your makeup.

He reached one arm up to cup the back of your head and kiss you once on the cheek as he leaned into the shell of your ear, “Be prepared to be paid back for this with interest.” He whispered, sending a shiver down your spine.

He turned and slammed the shot Yuji stuffed into his hand seconds earlier, then to Tsumiki as she began to chat with him.

You smiled as you made your way back over to Nobara at the bar, glowing with happiness to see Megumi so pleased. You sat for a moment, watching people make their way over to speak to him, and him, really, really wanting to avoid all the human interaction. It was awfully funny and cute, and you were more than happy to suffer whatever consequences he had in store for you for putting him in this position later.

“He looks happy” Nobara observed, pushing your Blue Moon over toward you.

You smiled, “Yeah.” overjoyed that you were able to make him feel this way. You took a few gulps of your beer to help calm your nerves a bit as your eyes flicked toward the stage and the boys prepared to begin. Choso gave you an upward nod, queuing you to come up.

Though Megumi hadn't caught his signal, he presumed he would just go up and get ready to play. Yuji grabbed his arm just as he was about to pass your special seat, the one that allowed you to see him so clearly onstage.

You felt like your heart would beat clear out of your chest, but you peeled yourself from the stool, eyeballing Megumi, biting your lip as you smiled that shy smile, then made your way over to the stairs beside the stage. Megumi watched as you walked over, his eyes then shooting over toward Yuji in total confusion.

“Have a seat.” Nobara said to Megumi, patting the cushion, which was still warm as he sat, watching in shock as you continued up the stage right stairs.

“What... in the hell... is going on?”

“Just relax. Here.” Yuji said as he slid a bottle of Guinness over to him at the bar which he took several gulps of before setting it back down. Tsumiki smiled warmly as she sat next to him, a huge grin spreading across her face, excited.

You'd finally made it backstage, the thick curtain shrouding the crowd on the other side of it as you stood behind it, trembling. Your eyes closed as you breathed in and out, hoping to regulate your nervous system. You felt a couple of strong hands squeeze your shoulders and you open your eyes to see Choso grinning down at you as he reassured you.

“It'll be perfect. No worries. We've all got your back, just sing. You can do it.” You smiled and nodded, still feeling as though you'd never be able to stop the vigorous tremoring in your nerves. He walked across the stage to join the rest of the band, taking the mic as everyone cheered.

“Thank you, guys for coming out!” His voice rang out across the room. “We're glad to be here celebrating our leader’s birthdaaaaay!” he raised his bottle of beer, the entire venue roaring in approval as Megumi cringed. “But … we have a couple gifts for him that you all will get to take part in. A special guest will be singing with us tonight, so give her a hand as she comes to the stage.”

You swallowed thickly, slowly strutting across the stage as you made your way over to the microphone. Anxiety shot through your body like electricity, your gaze directed out toward the crowd as the lights shone bright on you. Of all the times you had done this, nothing could have possibly prepared you for this experience.

Singing for this man, was the epitome of intimidation. The only way you could convince yourself to go through with it is to remind yourself that it wasn't about you. It was your gift to him. And he deserved to have the best you could give.

Megumi's eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights as he sat completely flabbergasted that you were there on stage in front of him in this place. Clearly, you had been up to a lot more than he had given you credit for, and he couldn't have been more proud of you. His approval had shown all over his face as his embarrassment was replaced with pure admiration.

“Thank you all for having me.” you said, your sweet voice echoing across the room as you smiled widely, directing your gratitude toward Choso and the band, as well as the audience. “And thank you, Megumi,” you turned toward him peering past the small sea of people as he sat in your seat, “for being such a breathtaking artist, an amazing inspiration, especially to me, and an even more amazing partner. I love you, so very very much, and we hope that you'll love our performance tonight. This is for you.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd quieted as Toge queued you in with a few notes.

My Song – H.E.R.

Began to play, as you sang the song directly to Megumi and everyone quietly listened. You sang from the depths of your heart, as every word made you think of him. He has been the light in your life, one of the only people to love you past your flaws, to stick around regardless of how many mistakes you feel you make and is willing to be here for you.

You were comfortable with him. So comfortable that it scared you, the irony of that being that he was exactly what you needed. He wasn't just the safe choice for you, he was secure. He made you feel secure with him. Secure in a relationship without fear or major concerns.

His drive, passion, and inspiration had helped you become stronger in everything you've tried to do, and you couldn't imagine being this close to any other man. Everything about him made you happy, and you felt you could be in this place with him, in this space with him, forever.

Maki and Choso helped beautifully with the background vocals, supporting you as you expressed yourself perfectly, and Toge simply could not have played it better. You recalled that first night you spent with Megumi, when Toge's piano played so beautifully as the two of you drew closer.

Megumi sat almost perfectly still as you sang to him, barely blinking, barely breathing. He carried the same expression he did as he watched you sing at that wedding, the same admiration, adoration and confidence in you as you've always seen. It was as if he gave you wings, and you loved him so much for it. You were able to believe freely without doubt, to dream freely without fear, to hope without despair, and to love freely without pain as long as he was by your side.

You believed in him, and he believed in you.

His eyes locked onto yours, and when your gazes met, it was as if you could feel his heart beating just for you. Even from where he sat from far across the room. Megumi was so amazing that you simply couldn't imagine your life now without him. He needed to know it. And everyone else needed to know it too.

The last chord rang, and the crowd cheered as his gaze remained fixed on yours. The cheers seemed to last a full minute as all of Megumi's friends looked toward him witnessing just how happy he truly was.

As he ripped his eyes away from your beautiful image on stage, he took a deep breath, inhaling as he snapped out of his daze, his eyes now scanning the room, noticing the entire venue gawking at him. He hated it. He propped his elbows up at his knees and interlocked his fingers, burying his head inside.

Tsumiki, Nobara, and Yuji laughed as Tsumiki patted his back, pressing her lips into a hard line. He was totally fine with making an entire band, supporting everyone else, being brilliant and sitting behind a huge drumkit while everyone screamed for him, but the “spotlight” was never something he felt he looked forward to. Even if you were the one shining it on him. Even if everything was beautiful, he was still Megumi.

“Mm'sorry Megz” you said quietly into the mic scrunching your nose as you turned and giggled toward the band. You peered into the crowd as you blew a kiss to him, his eyes peeking back from under his fingers. God, how can he be so cute? You thought as your smile reached his blue gaze.

He turned his blushing face toward the bottle of Guinness he pulled suddenly from the bar, then took another few gulps before rolling it between the palms of his hands.

You took a big sigh as you felt your warmed heart skipping beats. You flicked your eyes over to Maki, who nodded toward you, signaling you to continue.

“Thank you so much everyone.” You expressed with sincere gratitude, noticing the crowd had grown significantly in front of you which you thought was unusual since the venue was supposed to be reserved for people close to Megumi and the band. There was one face among them that you thought you recognized, but as your eyes quickly flicked back to that spot, you could no longer see him.

You suddenly tensed up a bit, your nerves shaking your confidence until your sights finally settled back on Megumi, who's gaze was now burning into you with his fingers interlocked in front of his mouth. You allowed that image of him to relax you as you addressed him from the mic, no longer considering the crowd.

“One more Megumi, okay?” you blushed shyly behind the microphone. “We're gonna do another one for you, an original by me that, without the help of your amazing band, I would never have had the ability, let alone the courage to execute. I hope you like this one, too.”

He tilted his head sideways, his brow furrowing in confusion, as he pursed his lips and squinted, his brain reeling at how you managed to get all of this done in what felt like the shortest period of time.

Ino emerges from the curtains behind the stage, strolling across, throwing up a peace sign toward Megumi as he positioned himself at the drumset.

Megumi's eyes widened in surprise, “Ino's here, too?” he murmured, his head whipping around toward Tsumiki and Nobara, then back toward the stage as his friend made himself comfortable at his kit. Toge played a few notes, starting the song they practiced with you.

Big Feelings – Willow

You belted out the lyrics, gripping the microphone in one hand as the adrenaline from performing in such a huge crowd filled you. You closed your eyes as you sang, moving passionately in your high-top converse, swaying to Ino's perfect beats and Toge's perfection on the keys. Your hair flailed behind the microphone as you danced, Megumi's wide eyes driving your performance all the more.

Maki came in perfectly with you on the chorus, sounding so good you couldn't help how your body reacted to the excitement and overwhelm.

Ino beat the shit out of the drums while Yuta killed it on the bass, and both Choso and Maki blended their guitars, following Toge's piano which complemented your melodic voice beautifully. All of them making your song sound like you'd been singing it on stage for years.

Megumi was now standing, with one hand tucked under his opposite bicep as the other covered his mouth. He was in awe of you. And of his own band. The fact that you executed this so quickly and so well was impressive, even to him. He was enthralled, fascinated by your beauty and talent, even felt the sting of jealousy that he wasn't the one playing drums for you. He'd be sure to fix that later during your next ‘conversation’.

You blew him away. Especially since nothing about this performance was remotely basic. It had rock, jazz and funk elements, and the sound was strong and full, from the harmonies in the vocals to the chords. Let alone your phenomenal voice, and the fact that you were responsible for creating it.

During the last couple of verses and the chorus, you bounced around so freely, it was as if the band was all yours, and you were a headliner. Megumi watched intently, unable to understand how you couldn’t have already become a star with the talent you have, but was beyond ecstatic to see you like this, and excited to see more immediately.

You all ended the song, and the venue erupted in a roaring applause of approval, Megumi included. You took your bow, then blew more kisses at him across the crowd. “Happy birthday baby.” you spoke into the mic with a childlike smile, then turned back toward the band, clasping your hands together as you bowed to each one of them in gratitude, while Choso held out his hand toward you. You quickly turned to head offstage, eager to get back to your man.

Choso grabbed the microphone, “She was fucking awesome, right? Yeeah!” he said, allowing the audience to continue to display how much they loved your performance by their lingering applause.

You finally made it off the stage, passing through the thick crowd, some of the people tapping you as you walked by, praising you for such amazing singing. You thanked them, anxiously heading straight toward Megumi's seat.

Choso continued. “One more and we can let the birthday boy off the hook for a minute. Let's get this party starteeeed!” snickering behind the mic as Megumi shook his head, a vein practically popping out of his forehead.

Tsumiki leaned into Megumi as he watched you make your way to him. “You loving your party?” she asked.

“The music is excellent.” he answered. “The party's a bit much though.” he huffed, cutting his eyes over toward her.

She muffled a laugh, “Don't be too hard on her Megz.” she pleaded.

“Yeah, yeah.” he replied, turning his face back your direction, squinting through the crowd as you got closer. “How did you even get here?” he asked Tsumiki, shaking his head “When?”

She smiled as she pressed her lips together. “Your lovely girlfriend got my ticket for me.”

Megumi's lips parted a bit in a miniature jaw drop as he frowned, “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope ...” she replied. “But of course, I don't plan to let her take full responsibility.” She smiled warmly as she too, watched you travel across the room. “Don't worry. It was a joint effort. We all wanted to be here for you.”

He shook his head, turning around just in time to see you walk up and stand in front of him. He sized you up with his hooded blues, sitting back down on his stool as he widened his legs and reached out a hand to grab your arm, pulling you close. He wrapped one arm around your waist and cupped the back of your head in the other hand as he spoke into your ear, “You, were fucking amaaaazing.”

You pulled back to see his face, full of fascination and astonishment. “I knew you were good but...” He shook his head. “that... was incredible”.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gripped the sides of his tee hugging him again. His expression remained straight and serious as an arrow, as if to be certain you understood what he was saying to you.

“It was all for you”. You muttered, biting your lip as your tears fell from your eyes. You were terrified to perform in front of him, but you were so happy to see that he received his gift, and that he was pleased.

“Tch,” he leaned into your ear again, “I'm all for you though.” he replied as he wiped the couple of tears from your face with one hand as he squeezed your waist with the other as his arm remained wrapped around you. “Uh, yeah that reminds me, why would you do something so extravagant?” he asked, suddenly frowning as he nodded toward Tsumiki. She'd leaned over to talk to Nobara as you approached.

You titled your head to the side as you spoke, pursing your lips first, “Because I wanted to”. You said as you leaned in too close to his face.

“Don't do things like that. It's too much.” he said, holding you close, pushing your cheek to the side with his face in order to position his lips close enough to speak into your ear. “I can just take care of it.”

“Already done.” You said as you leaned back, peering through your lashes at his frown, then leaning back into his ear. “And you can't tell me what to do”.

He paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he hooked his arm tighter around your waist, his hand squeezing the opposite side. “Oh, so you've already forgotten who you're talking to huh?”

You gripped his face with one hand leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, then pressing your lips into the shell of his ear as you hummed, “You're not the boss of me, Megumi Fushiguro.” Just as

In Da Club – 50 Cent

played on the system. Megumi grimaced yet again as he turned toward Choso and Toge who stood on stage smirking after they started it.

You grinned mischievously, dancing as you swayed teasingly directly in front of him, mouthing the first lines as he glared, shaking his head at you. Regardless of his refusal to give in to the moment, you continued to dance with a huge smile on your face, biting your lip, giggling over at Nobara and Yuji as they laughed.

You raised your hands to wrap them around his neck as he sat gawking, swaying your body in front of him in your black low-cut halter, your long locks of hair dipping between your cleavage and brushing his shoulders as you leaned into him in your denim cutoffs, fishnets, and converse.

Your Very Good Girl Elixir wafted up from your skin into his olfactories as his lids fell over his blues and he watched your lips mouth the lyrics, your gloss sparkling under the venue lights.

He was unable to do much more than tolerate the situation and all the attention he was getting, but you? You made it far better than he would ever have been willing to deal with had you been anyone else.

Tsumiki couldn't help but chuckle as Megumi's cheeks reddened and he tried to hide his face behind your arms and hair as they curled around his neck. He wasn't tipsy enough to completely relax in this moment, which made it all the more entertaining for you.

Nobara grabbed another bottle for him from Itadori, along with a small, rolled up piece of paper with something herbal inside. She brought it over to him, sliding it in his cargo pocket as she placed the bottle next to him on the bar.

Megumi's eyes flicked to her, then to Yuji who winked at him, granting him a quick upward nod in return.

You leaned into him again, “You got anything else to say birthday boy?”

“Yeah,” Megumi gazed at you with that special look in his eyes. “I am the boss of you.” he muttered with absolute confidence as he took the last swig of his first beer, his blues scanning your body as if they had lasers inside.

You smirked as your fingertips curled downward from his neck toward his back, sliding across his nape under the neck of his shirt as you leaned into his ear, “Prove it, daddy.” You challenged, then backed away, continuing to dance as he leered at you. You moved your hips, teasing and giggling as you grabbed each of his arms to wrap them around your waist.

He sat trying hard not to let you make him too excited, periodically eyeballing everyone in the room to be sure they weren't watching you as intently as he was. As the song ended, the crowd applauded as Ino queued up another one.

Weezer – The Sweater Song

The audience roared in excitement as Megumi sat on “your” stool, raising his beer to his friend. Ino nodded toward him as he started.

More people came over to speak to Megumi, so you stepped away for a second, grabbing another beer from the bar as he said his hellos. You'd recognized a few of them, some of which had been here many times to see his shows and some when you and Nobara had come here alone.

Ino and Choso both acted out the lyrics, and the first verse. The crowd enjoyed the song, bobbing their heads and hands up and down as the chorus began.

Maki chimed in on the second part, the entire band having a great time playing this classic and, of course, she also took the guitar solo.

You, Nobara and Tsumiki all wailed out the lyrics along with the entire venue as the music blasted through the atmosphere.

As you turned back toward Megumi, the bundle of admirers had dispersed from around him. You smiled sweetly at his handsome face as he bobbed his head, watching his friends on stage. It was nice for him to see things from this perspective, to be able to sit back and watch the show without the stress of the performance.

You huddled with your friends, observing your beautiful boyfriend as he sat in his baggy jeans that hung over his black and white chucks. His midnight black v-neck shirt had long sleeves that he kept scrunching up to his elbows, revealing his slim, yet muscular arms, his veins creating tiny threadlike shadows along his forearm that trailed to his long fingers which wrapped around his dark bottle of Guinness.

Your eyes traveled up to his neck, where his Adam’s apple, cloaked behind his pretty porcelain skin, bobbed as he took a swig, and his lips kissed the tiny round opening just before he pulled it away. You couldn't help but want in that very moment to feel one of his delicious open-mouthed kisses against your skin, finding yourself almost jealous of the bottle he nursed.

Your tongue peeked out the corner of your mouth as you bit your bottom lip, your eyes finally making their way up to his blues, which you didn't realize were staring directly at you.

You couldn't break your gaze as your eyes met his, his nearly imperceptible smile curled into his lips sending a tingle through your body. You blushed, finally averting your gaze toward the floor, then back to him, only to see him grin slyly at your adorable face.

He casually turned toward the end of the bar noticing something as he froze. His eyes widened, and a deep wrinkle carved between his brows. Your smile faded as you caught his expression, then followed his eyes past Yuji, who was also staring in that direction, toward whatever it was they were looking at. The moment you caught it; you couldn't believe your eyes. There was a guy standing at the end of the bar.

The second the person caught your attention, he flashed a devilish grin, raising his glass of hard liquor toward you as if you had asked him to be there.

Megumi turned toward you in shock, frowning even deeper in total confusion, his rounded eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you before he asked,

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How do you know Sukuna?

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<< Set 5 / Set 7>>

Set 7 Preview: Coming Soon... ;)

Taglist: (if you dont want to be tagged, please lmk!!💖)

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Thanks for reading! ✨🥰✨

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖🎶

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart Art: Courtesy of @pinterest-business / @berserker049 Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @CafeKitsune

[thaleleah]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal, Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.5K

A/N: So sorry this took so long! 🥺 But I hope you guys like it and I'm hopeful that the next part won't take nearly as long to get out.

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

<<< Previous | Next >>>

The ride to Joe’s cabin only takes a few hours, and the sun is high in the sky by the time Sam helps you down from your seat. You hastily make your way to the front door, opening the latch and pushing it open, keeping it propped with a heavy rock laid by the door while Sam opens the back of the wagon. The journey inside is a bit more difficult this time. Billy gasps in pain when you stumble on the front stairs, tripping over your tunic and jerking his body down accidentally as a result. He’s breathing harshly when you and Sam are able to lay him down on your brother’s bed and you once again find yourself whispering apology after apology as you lift his shirt and the bandage to check on his wound. 

Thankfully, there’s no tears or rips. You were only able to bring a little bit of the suture material and enough extra bandages in your bag to get you by. The clinic has limited materials as it is, so you only packed what you thought the clinic could spare. It’s enough to completely redo his stitches if necessary, but you’re hoping it won’t ever come to that. 

Billy’s safe here now, he will not be leaving the bed until he’s well enough to start moving around on his own. 

His hand comes down to rest on top of your own, pushing your hand down and forcing you to recover the stitches with the bandage as his fingers curl around your palm. 

“Hey,” He says softly, calling your eyes to his tired ones. “I'm okay.”

His hand is gentle on yours, thumb lazily sweeping back and forth across the back of it. You pull it away, smoothing your tunic down again just for something else to do with your hands.

You didn’t even notice when Sam left the room, too preoccupied with checking on Billy’s wound, but your head turns at the sound of his boots on the steps of the porch. He steps back into the cabin, a crate held in his hands filled with food and other supplies and you let out a grateful sigh at the sight of it.  

“Thank you, Sam,” You say, watching as he deposits the crate just on the side of the doorway. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping us. You’re a good man,” 

Sam smiles shyly at your words of praise, and out of the corner of your eye you notice how Billy’s head snaps towards him. 

“Of course, Sister y/n. Anything for you and the other Sisters,”

“Are you sure this is alright? You don’t need it for your delivery?”

“No,” He says with a shake of his head. “I packed it for you to have,”

You cup Sam’s cheek in thanks and shoot another glance towards Billy just to make sure he’s okay. His face is turned to the side again, pressing against the pillow for comfort, but you can see how his eyes are still on you, following your every move as you follow Sam out of the cabin. 

Poor Billy, he must still be so nervous. So on edge about being hunted like he's nothing more than a rabid animal needing to be put down. Hopefully now that he's safe and out of harm's way, he can find some peace.

You walk Sam out, watching as he checks the horses and settles himself on the seat. 

“I’ll come back in two weeks,” He promises. “That should be enough time for the search for him to wind down. Can't let people get suspicious. I have another delivery to do 'round then. I'll bring you some extra food and supplies.” 

You wave as he nudges the wagon into motion and wait until he’s completely out of view over the hill before heading back inside and closing the door behind you. 

Billy’s still watching you as you move about the main living area. Your brother’s bed has a direct line of eyesight into the front area, so Billy doesn’t even have to move to be able to watch you as you settle your bag and extra blankets onto the floor. You’ve told Joe before about how dangerous you think it is to have his bed in clear sight of the entrance, but he’s told you many times that he doesn’t like being told what to do.

“Besides, you know what it was like,” You remember him telling you. “Sleeping soundly in that house was never an option. And that feeling never goes away. If someone ever tries to break in here and attack me, I’ll already be awake and ready with my gun pointed at them before they even make it through the front door.”

As much as it pained you to hear, you know the truth of it. You’ve gotten better, you think. Whereas when you were younger, you would wake from the slightest noise, terrified of what might come after it. But now you find you can sleep through the night with very little problems. It’s not perfect - some nights are harder than others, but you credit God and the wonderful family you’ve found at the convent. They gave you rest, taught you to give your fears to the Lord so that He may take the burden they bear from you. They gave you peace in the world when you had none, and for that you will be eternally grateful. 

Joe has not been so lucky, choosing instead to lock himself away in solitude rather than give his grievances up for absolvement. You pray for him every day despite his reluctance, asking God for guidance on his behalf.

The entire cabin is almost bare, sparse furniture just enough to be convenient. Despite your prayers, you know the ghost of the past still hovers over your brother's shoulder and even still, you wonder how he can stand to call this place a home with how unloved it feels.

“How do you know Sam?” Billy asks, and the cabin is small enough that his voice carries from room to room.

“He and his father run one of the markets in town,” You reply. You make your way into the bedroom, pulling the now rumpled blankets from under Billy's body and adjusting them so they lay over him neatly. “They’re our suppliers.”

“You seem very close,” Billy says, absently running his fingers over the edge of the blanket.

“Oh, well, he’s a dear friend,”

“You sure you can trust him?”

You nod, a small twinge offended at the implication of Sam being untrustworthy. After what he just risked to get you both here and Billy still doubts him? You stomp the feeling down just as quick as it flares. “Sam is incredibly loyal. He would never betray us,”

Billy’s mouth turns up in an unpleasant curl. “I think he likes you,”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I should hope so. Otherwise, he is a very good actor,”

He huffs a small laugh at your attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t really sound joyful. “Not like that,”

It takes a second for your brain to register his vague words, but when they do your mouth falls open in shock at the bold statement. “No. No, no. Certainly not. Not me anyway,”

Oops. Perhaps you’ve said too much. 

Now it’s Billy’s brows that furrow and he stares at you, hard, as if trying to read your mind about what you’ve meant. They shoot up as it clicks for him, a smirk pulling at his lips at the realization. “Him and one of the other nuns?”

“No!” You gasp. “Absolutely not. Sam just– bless his heart. He… has romantic feelings for one of the Sisters.”

“She doesn’t feel the same?”

Not exactly. Sam and Sister Ann have a connection that anyone with eyes can’t deny. They help complete each other and help each other grow in ways that one can only hope to experience in this life. Sister Ann has even confided in you that, while she doesn’t regret joining the church, she can’t help but think that if she had met Sam sooner then she would have said her vows to him instead of straight to God. 

“It’s not that simple,” You settle with. “She’s a woman of faith and she’s spoken for by the church. They can’t be together regardless of what she may feel. Sam understands.”

Billy hums, a low and displeased sound. “Hm. Poor Sam,”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, so you don’t. Billy’s still frowning, so you tell him he should rest some more while you go fix up some lunch for you both. You’re happy to find that the simple stew made from some deer meat your brother had stored before his current trip is enough to cut the sudden unexpected tension and return him to good spirits. 

Things are calmer now that you’ve arrived at the cabin. There’s very little risk of unwanted visitors and your brother’s last letter puts him deep in Texas and considering venturing upwards, so you're confident that he won’t be coming home anytime soon. 

You’ve heard stories about Billy the Kid. Your patients like to talk, surprisingly gossipy considering most should be too sick or too involved with their pain to speak. But they push through their uncomfortableness to tell you stories of the young outlaw whose face is on the Most Wanted posters in at least three separate counties. 

“He’s a ruthless killer.”

“A no-good murderer.”

“A good person who’s just had back luck.”

“A kindly fellow. He helped scare off some kids who were robbin’ me!”

And as you talk to Billy more and more, you can’t help but agree with the last two opinions. Billy is a sweetheart - respectful and kind like any man should be towards any woman despite her role in society. He listens with rapt attention as you tell him stories of your travels as you clean and re-bandage his wound. He nods when you tell him about the difference between the Utah territory and the Montana territory, and laughs when you tell him about your very memorable trip to Mexico where you climbed off the wagon and didn’t even take one step before face planting in a pile of mud. His grin is almost blinding when you tell him about the day you and your brother reunited after two years apart. 

“Your brother’s name is Joe?” He asks.

“Mhm,” You confirm, leaning back into the chair you’ve placed next to the bed. 

“My brother’s name was Joe, too,”

“Oh,” You smile despite the twinge in your heart. The word ‘was’ is almost devastating to hear. “It’s a good name. A strong name.”

Billy nods and his voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, it is,” and you think you can physically see the light die in his eyes as he thinks about it, the look of happiness he had just a second ago completely snuffed out by past memories.  

You don’t want to pry, it’s not your place. But then he glances at you with those big blue eyes of his and all you see is hurt. God has put you on this Earth to be a healer, and you think that turning away now would be doing both Him and the broken man in front of you a disservice. 

“Was he older or younger?” You ask, softly. “Your brother,”

“Younger,” he responds, and your heart breaks more at the rueful smile he sends you. “He died. Consumption. My mother too.”

Oh. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Billy. I can only imagine how hard that must have been,”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not even looking at you now, just staring off into the distance as if somewhere else. 

You lean forward, placing a careful hand on his arm. “Tell me about them?”

This time, the smile is real.

You learn over the next few days that Billy’s faith is in even worse shape than you feared. 

For most, the presence of God is never fully gone from their hearts. Most who you’ve talked to who are rocky with their faith feel abandoned, cast aside as if The Heavenly Father were to play favorites and they’ve somehow found themselves on the losing side of the ‘sibling’ competition. Others feel betrayed by Him - those who have suffered great loss or tragedy and can’t understand how someone who’s entire being is made up in the light of faith and love can allow such heartbreak and suffering to happen to His children. 

You do your best to soothe their heavy hearts. You tell them that God works in mysterious ways and that each and every person has their own trials and lessons in life that they must learn and overcome. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” You say. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. But He is always by our side, speaking to us. All we have to do is listen.”

Words are not as powerful as feelings or actions, but you’re always grateful whenever your words are able to help heal any of their woes, even if just a little bit. 

Billy, however… you are horrified to see that his faith is gone completely. 

He talks about how he came to New Mexico and all he’s seen on the way. His start in New York City and the promise of a better life in Kansas. The lies and tragedy they were met with there. The death of his father. 

“I think my Pa knew there was no one up there lookin’ out for us even back then,” Billy says, and it takes everything you have in you to stay silent at the horrific statement. “That’s why he just… gave up.”

For all that you disagree with, you can understand why Billy feels the way he does. He truly has had no one in his corner - devastating hardship after devastating hardship throughout the entirety of his life and he’s had to fight tooth and nail, carving a place out in the world for himself by force, just to get a bit of peace that should have been readily given to him.

“Tell me, Sister. When you’re by yourself in the world, young and alone and starvin’, not a penny to your name and no work for you in the entire county, what else are you supposed to do?”

The tears welling in your eyes match the ones threatening to spring from his. 

“Exactly what you did,” You whisper back.

A single tear escapes one red rimmed eye, running down the curve of his cheek. “Is that what your god does? Leave children to steal or starve and then let them be arrested and made into a criminal when they choose not to just roll over and die?”

The lump in your throat refuses to go down. “We can’t know what the Lord’s plan is for us. It’s a mystery meant for us to unravel,” Your words are true, but they feel bitter on your tongue. “No matter how hard it might be.”

Billy’s eyes soften at your words, thick lashes clumping together with unshed tears, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion.

“You remind me of my Ma,” 

He’s told you about his Ma. A kindly, religious minded woman whose devotion to God and her ‘rotten, cheatin’, stealin’ ass husband’ was her downfall. 

“‘I won’t leave him’ she said.” Billy had huffed, hands squeezing into fists as they wrapped tightly around the blanket. “‘I said my vows before God and the Catholic church’. What am I supposed to say to that?”

You can see how it eats at him - still after all these years since his mother’s passing and the guilt of not being able to save her, to protect her from anything and everything trying to harm her, it gnaws away at his heart. You think she might have been his best friend. 

“Yeah, you remind me of my Ma,” He repeats, voice soft and low, and you wonder if this is the voice that he used to use when talking to her. “She was optimistic too. A dreamer, always tryin’ to see the best in people when all they do is show you their worst.” 

“She sounds like a lovely lady,” You say. It’s genuine - you think it would have been an honor to meet the woman that Billy called a mother had you ever gotten the chance. 

The woman who was strong for her family when it felt like the entire world was crumbling down around them. The woman who pushed for progress and courage when they uprooted their entire lives in hopes of finding something better elsewhere and held it together for the sake of her children when their father passed. The woman who sacrificed staying in an unfaithful and unhappy marriage for the sake of her kids and loyalty to God’s will. 

“The vows we make are meant to be for eternity, Billy,” You had told him. “They are not to be broken easily or without consequence. If they were, there would be no point in making them and they would lose their significance.”

Your own mother knew that too. Despite how much you wanted her to leave him when you were younger - run away just you, Mama, and Joe - she never did. 

“My father wasn’t a very nice man either,” You say, eventually. “Like your stepdad. He was cruel. He would hit her, and Joe…” The me remains unspoken, but understood anyway. 

Billy remains silent, but his eyes are on you, listening with full attention to whatever you’re about to tell him. The idea that maybe God has sent Billy into your life to help heal some unresolved part of you, too, isn’t lost on you. 

“I know that we are all God’s children,” You say. “And I know that there is good in all people. But sometimes… I think the Devil’s hold is much too strong on some. Because I can’t remember even one ounce of goodness in my father.”

“Is your mother still with him?”

“No. She’s dead.” 

The days go by with an unexpected ease that you're grateful for.

You talk, and talk, and talk - and honestly, that's about as much as you can do. Your brother has nothing. No forms of entertainment and no distractions that wouldn't be considered laborious and harmful for Billy's recovery.

You like to talk though. Like to get to know people and have other's get to know you in return. Each person is unique - an extension of God and an example of His love for us personified.

It's even better when the energetic connection is instant, two souls recognizing each other and relating to each other in a way that you think all of God's children should be able to. Talking with Billy is easy, and despite the differences in religious views, you find that conversation between the both of you flows like water. And when that water sometimes finds itself hitting the shore of land, you find that Sam has come through for you once again.

Sam, bless his soul, has had the forethought to pack a chess board and a pack of playing cards in his care package, and you find that they become quite handy when the rare silence between conversations becomes too stretched.

Despite the initial stress and your reasoning for being here, it's nice.

Five days into the stay at your brother’s place finds you relieved to see that Billy’s wound is still making progress with its healing. You were a little concerned that the threat of being caught and the additional stress on the stitches from the abrupt movements of being transferred to the cabin could have brought about an infection, but the area around the injury still looks clean. 

You make sure to send up a quick prayer of thanks for the Good Lord’s grace. 

While Billy’s wound is healing nicely, your back, on the other hand, is in significant pain. 

Joe’s place is built for one, so the single bed in the only bedroom is more than enough to house him when he’s home. For two, however - it’s a little problematic. 

Billy gets the bed, that’s a given. He’s injured, and people need to be comfortable with lots of rest so that they can heal properly. You’re no stranger to uncomfortable sleeping spaces anyway. You’ve spent more than your share of nights on the floor of dusty inns during your travels and, to be completely honest, it's not like the beds at the convent were much better. It’s moments like this where it reminds you of how many things humans take for granted in their day-to-day lives. Sometimes it takes losing something for someone to appreciate it. 

Despite the uncomfortableness, sleeping on the floor has never really bothered you much. It’s been a few years since you’ve had to do it though. Even on the round-the-clock shifts at the clinic there’s at least been a cot available to you, but here there’s only the hard wooden floor and the single blanket you’ve allowed yourself to claim. 

And, perhaps you aren’t as young as you used to be, because the shooting pain in your back as you carefully roll to your side has you gasping.

Billy must hear the noise because you can hear the slight ruffle of bedding as he shifts, his voice calling out a concerned, “Sister, you alright?”

“Fine,” You call back through gritted teeth. Every movement feels like torture as you brace your hands on the floor to help push you up. You can do it, you tell yourself. You can do it. God willing… “Just- ah! Just trying to– get up.”

The rustling of the bedding sounds more deliberate now and you’re shouting from your place on the floor before you can think about what you’re doing. “Don’t you dare get out of that bed, William Bonney! Or so help me,”

The rustling stops, and you steel yourself to try to push up and off the floor. It feels like a miracle when you’re on your feet. Your garments are wrinkled and slightly dusted, but that’s to be expected out here. It’s the bare space on the floor that gives you pause. How are you meant to sleep on the floor again tonight with the way you feel right now? The thought seems almost unbearable. Perhaps Billy will spare one of his extra blankets - the slight extra cushion could be all you need.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

A few steps takes you into the bedroom and your suspicions are confirmed when you see Billy sitting up in the bed, blankets pooling down at his waist as his arms prop himself up, his right leg is just swung over the edge of the bed at the knee in a perfect indication of his intention of getting up. 

Ignoring the pain in your back, you walk forward, clicking your tongue in disapproval as you push him back down flat with a firm hand to his forehead. He goes back willingly, moving his leg back in place when you tap on his knee.

“You could have pulled your stitches trying to get up like that,” You reprimand. 

“‘So help you’ what?” He responds.

“What?”

“You said ‘or so help me’. So, ‘or so help me’ what?” Billy says with a small playful smirk on his face.

“God,” You respond with a smile of your own. “So help me God. So that maybe He can send me some holy restraints to tie you to this bed to keep you from ripping your stitches and worsening your injury that I worked so hard on healing.”

Billy’s smirk widens. “Careful now, Sister. Some people like that kinda thing,”

You can feel the heat flood your face from his implication, eyes widening as your mouth parts in shock. 

You don’t know how to respond - you’ve never been in this type of situation before. For men and all their faults, you’ve been lucky to find that most of them, even the criminals and frequent brothel visitors have mostly been respectful of your title. Inappropriate comments and jokes have rarely been said in your presence since becoming a nun, and on the rare occasion they have you’ve never been shocked since the offenders are always obvious the second they open their mouths. 

But somehow it strikes you speechless to hear the sexual meaning coming from Billy’s lips. 

“Oh, is that too much for the Angel’s ears?” He laughs. “M’sorry.”

You force a quiet laugh, working your lips into a small smile as you try to battle through the uncomfortableness. He’s just joking. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Men will be men for as sexually driven as they are, and some are just more outspoken about it than others. Billy’s been on his own since he was a young teen, running around with that band of outlaws who you’re sure are far worse than he is. You’ve had the displeasure of meeting Jesse Evans before. And you certainly weren’t shocked when the rude words fell from his mouth about how he imagined how good you would look without all that ‘modesty bullshit you have on’. 

Billy isn’t Jesse though, so you just lightly smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you let out a half teasing but mostly serious, “You watch your language around me, sir. I’m a lady,”

“Yes, ma’am,” He grins. “Yes, you are.”

You hum out a small sound of disapproval as you bend forward slightly to try and adjust the blankets that have twisted around his waist during his premature attempt to stand, but you're stopped when the sharp pain consequence of sleeping on the floor shoots up your spine. Billy starts at your loud gasp, hand darting out to grab your arm as if he could catch you if you suddenly dropped to the ground. Your hands press against your back in agony and they stay there as you slowly limp to the chair next to the bed. 

Billy watches as you gingerly lower yourself into the seat. The pain doesn’t go away now that you’re sitting down, but at least you don’t have to move for a while. “What happened?” 

“Sleeping on the floor hasn’t been very kind to me,” You respond through gritted teeth. 

“You should sleep in the bed then,” 

“No,” You say, shaking your head, appalled at the thought of kicking Billy out of the bed while he’s still healing. “You’re injured. You get the bed.”

The eyebrow raise you get in response tells you that you misunderstood his meaning. “I think we can both share the bed,”

“No,” You say, again. “No, no. It’s not proper.”

“Sister y/n–”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with harder things than just sleeping on the floor. A little back pain isn’t going to keep me down,”

Billy looks like he doesn’t believe you, but he keeps quiet on the matter anyway.

He distracts you instead by keeping you talking. He asks about why you decided to join the convent and take your vows. You tell him about your brother and how he couldn’t bear to be around your drunk of a father anymore, and how you harbored such anger at him for what felt like an eternity but was only actually a year and a half because you felt betrayed by him. Deserted and left to fend for yourself by your own brother. How you walked around your house praying to never be seen, acting like a ghost in your own home in hopes of keeping away any avoidable conflict. How your mother did her best to shelter you from it all, and you can tell by the way Billy’s brows furrow and his lips pinch together that he wants to say something harsh in response, but he stays silent. You can only imagine what he would say.

“Shelterin’ you would’ve been takin’ you far away from him, not forcin’ you to stay in a dangerous place just because she thinks it's what God wants. If that’s what God really wants, then maybe he’s the evil one, hm?”

You’re thankful he doesn’t actually say it. You’re not sure if you would have the right words to try to defend otherwise.

“Turning to God was the best thing I’ve ever done,” You say instead. “In Him I’ve found peace like I’ve never known before. I found a family and a purpose in life. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“That should be the bare minimum,”

Turns out it doesn’t matter what he decided to say because you don’t really have the right words to defend against that statement either. 

“You deserve to have someone lookin’ out for you,” Billy says, and his stare is so earnest and intense that you can’t bare to look him in the eyes anymore. 

“I’m… I’m going to go make breakfast,” 

He watches you push yourself up from the chair, wincing as your back protests the movement, but doesn’t move to stop you. 

You use the time you’re cooking to gather yourself. Prayers of apology fall from your lips to God as you beg for forgiveness at being caught unable to hear His wisdom during your conversation with Billy. Billy spoke his truth, no matter how wrong it was, and his words made you falter - unable to uphold Him and His grace in the face of judgment. This is your mission, your test.

And you’re failing. 

Sister Catherine wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have known exactly how to respond to his disbelief. She has a level head on her shoulders, the words of God falling from her lips like water. Perhaps she would have been better suited to handle this task. 

No. That’s the work of the devil - the fear and self-doubt you feel. Meant to slow you down and keep you from fulfilling your cause and spiritual duties.

Steeling yourself, you pile spoonfuls of the now thickened oatmeal into two bowls, topping them with a generous drizzle of honey before picking them up and taking a deep breath. You try your best to ignore the pain still throbbing in your back as you head back to the bedroom, pausing just outside the door and letting the heat from the bowls sink into your hands as you talk yourself up. 

Have faith in His Holiness, y/n. He will guide you. 

When Billy’s eyes catch on you as you walk through the doorway, his face is soft and friendly - none of the overwhelming intensity or barely contained anger that was there before. 

“That smells great,” He says, taking the bowl from your outstretched hand. His bright blue eyes follow your movement as you sink slowly back into the chair next to the bed, resting your own bowl on your lap. 

He smiles, clearly trying to calm your unease that you’re sure is still evident on your face and takes a large bite of oatmeal. 

“Hmm,” He hums, closing his eyes briefly at the taste. “This is delicious. Best meal I’ve ever had. Cooked by an angel, I can tell.”

“Thank you,” You reply, and you can feel the involuntary pull of a smile on your lips at the praise.

He’s a good man, too. You can tell.

The floor isn’t any softer as night rolls around. 

You try to sleep on your stomach, one arm propped underneath your head and the blanket balled on top of it so you have something soft to rest your cheek on. The other arm twists down at your side, a position that probably doesn’t seem very pleasant but that’s been your go-to comfort position since you were a young girl. It helps alleviate the tightness in your back for a little bit, but the ache is still there - laying in wait until you fall asleep and your body automatically rolls into the more reasonable position for floor sleeping. 

You don’t sleep, or at least you don’t think you do. It doesn’t feel like you do. Your mini dozes just feel like blinks, those moments where you close your eyes, just for a second, before you’re opening them again in the next moment only to realize how much time has actually gone by. You’re not sure if it's minutes or hours, but more often than not you’re blinking only to find that you’re mid roll in adjusting positions and the pain in your back is too intense for your sleeping brain to handle. At one point, you manage to roll completely over before you wake up - the blink of closing your eyes while on your stomach, darkness encompassing the entirety of the main room, and then suddenly your eyes are opening again with the ceiling as your viewpoint, the beginnings of the sun shining in through the window, and the unbelievable agony ever present in your spine. 

You’re so preoccupied with the pain that you almost don’t notice Billy standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes are set on your tensed frame, dark brows furrowed in concern as he takes a cautious step towards you. 

“Sister y/n,” He says, carefully. 

“W-what are you doing o-out of bed?” You ask through gritted teeth. Oh gosh, this hurts so much. You feel like you can’t move, like your entire body is stiff as a board and one wrong move will snap the wood across the grain where it’s the weakest and break it in half. You can’t even bear the thought of rolling over to try to get up.

Billy ignores your question, crouching down beside you with one knee pressing into the floor for stability. His hand caresses the wound on his side, and even through your pain you don’t miss the slight wince he gives even as his eyes rake over you with worry. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. The hand that was just pressed to his side comes to cup your cheek. 

You’re not sure why you’re noticing how large his hand is right now in this moment as it presses against your skin, his long fingers curling to press gently into the fabric of your veil just behind your ear. You should be chastising him, scolding him for getting out of the bed and possibly injuring himself further. He winced, you saw it. He’s in pain. But all you can focus on right now is the comfort his warm hand brings with your nerves this fried and body this agonized. 

“It hurts,” You whimper.

“I know, Angel. I know.” His voice is soft and soothing, the low tone caressing your eardrums. 

The sight of his eyes watering cuts through the pain for a moment, and you wonder if that’s really truly what you’re seeing or if maybe it’s your own tear filled eyes playing tricks on you. Your hand reaches up, intent on caressing his own cheek and swiping your thumb under his eye to see if it's actually wet, but he catches your hand in his and brings the back of your hand to his lips. 

“You’ve done so much for me already,” He murmurs, lips brushing against the back of your hand. “Let me help you now, okay?”

Billy’s arms fit themselves under your body, one arm creeping underneath your tensed back while the other loops beneath your knees. Your hand clutches desperately at his shirt, fisting the material in between your fingers, as he lifts you from the floor. Your agonized gasp mixes with his own grunt of pain as he stands up with you held securely in his arms and pressed against his chest. 

“Your stitches,” You try to say, but he just shushes you. 

“Shh. Don’t worry about me. M’fine,”

He carries you to the bed, carefully placing you down on the mattress. The softness of it under your back doesn’t do much to alleviate the pain, but the anxious part of you is hopeful that it will the longer you lay on it. But then Billy walks around the other side, the bed dipping down under his weight as he settles down on it, and you’re instantly filled with shame. 

You shouldn’t be in bed with a man. Ever. You gave up that possibility when you took your vows, promising that it's only His spirit that would ever get to be around an area as intimate and personal as your bed. 

“I can’t,” You say, trying in vain to push yourself up, but the sharp pain you receive for your efforts makes you freeze. “Ah! It’s not– not proper.”

“Y/n, please,” He says, hand coming down to press lightly on your shoulder to keep you down. “Just for today.”

You almost miss it - the absence of the title when he says your name. And that’s inappropriate too. Not only are you alone with a man, in the same bed together, but he’s dropped the earned title to show your life’s calling entirely. You want to reprimand him immediately. Jump out of the bed and wiggle your finger in his face just to make him understand how wrong this is. 

But his eyes are filled with worry, silently begging you to just lay there for a while, just until you feel better and the words die in your throat.

He’s a good man. He doesn’t mean any harm by it. It was just a mistake, the title lost among the honest worry you can see reflected in his eyes. 

“You can’t take care of me if you can’t even walk,”

Your eyes close, a resigned sigh escaping your lips as you reluctantly press deeper into the soft sheets. He’s right. You need to recover so you can continue to aid in his recovery. You can’t do your job if you're bedridden. 

“Just for today,” You settle.

Just for today.

That was your intention anyway. Just stay in the bed, enjoying the small pleasure of the soft mattress against your back, and wait for the pain to dissipate enough for you to be able to resume your nightly rests on the floor in the main room. You didn’t even want to stay in the bed all day. It was a hopeful thought, that you would feel better in just an hour's time, maybe two or three at the most, and then you would feel better enough to be able to get up and return to your duties as normal. But you realize now that the honest hope for that was just willful ignorance on your part. 

You work in a clinic and you’ve dealt with your fair share of back injury patients during your lifetime. You know it’s not something easily overcome or relieved in a matter of hours - sometimes even days or weeks. 

God can perform miracles and you see the blessings He puts in your path each and every day. This, unfortunately, is not one of His miracles. 

The hours blend together - one turning into two, and then two into four, until you can’t take the stillness anymore.

You force it a few times, pushing through the pain and slower than ever making it up and off the bed as you try to go about your day like normal. Being on the bed makes it so much easier to roll off than trying to push yourself up from the floor without the help of gravity. Your back protests as you roll off the edge, Billy echoing its protests with actual words instead of shocks of pain as he tries to urge you back down, but you grit your teeth and slap his hand away.

There’s a small amount of guilt creeping up from how hard you smack his hand, but it's still buried so deep under the agony and the overwhelming frustration of feeling useless that you can’t even stand to give it a second thought. 

Billy watches you as you slowly make your way around the room. It’s not too bad to walk as long as you don’t bend or twist your upper body at all, but it's all becoming much too obvious now how much one takes their movements for granted until they’re face to face with their sudden inability to make even the slightest normal movement. 

The empty bedpan sits on its own short stool in the corner of the room, next to the usual chamberpot. It’s been hours now since either of you have had to use them and even though you still feel fine enough to forego the chamberpot, which… thank the Lord because you’re honestly not sure how you’re meant to position yourself correctly in order to use the pot or even the outhouse for that matter in your current condition - you’re sure Billy is probably ready to use it. 

“Do you need the bedpan?” You ask him, already reaching for it. 

It's another moment of stupidity on your part when you go to reach for it and bend down with your back instead of using your knees. Another dagger of pain shoots up your spine and your hands fly around you to cradle the ache. 

Billy shoots up as the sharp gasp leaves your lips, the bed rustling and creaking underneath him as he tries to push himself up. Your head jerks at the sounds and your shout is echoing through the small room before you can even think about it. 

“Sit down!”

He freezes at your words, big blue eyes wide as he stares at you, the anger and frustration in your command no doubt audible in the way your yell scratches your own throat. 

“Sorry,” You say, softly. “Billy, I’m sorry. Just…” Your eyes shift to where he’s pressing his hand against his side, directly over the wound and the guilt from earlier creeps back full force. 

He’s already moved today. Already possibly hurt himself more by getting out of bed to check on you and then carrying your full weight to the bed. 

You didn’t even check it afterwards. 

“Just stay down,” You continue. “Don’t move.”

Reluctantly, he relaxes back on the bed, just sitting there and watching you when he should be flat down so as to not put extra strain on the wound. You want to tell him that - that he should be resting because he’s injured and injuries can’t heal if he’s just moving about however he pleases. You’ve said it before and he’s listened, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to call out your hypocrisy this time. 

“You sit down too,”

His words are soft, the timbre of his voice soothing and gentle but the words themselves are as demanding as they can be. Your eyes flick back up to his and you can see the unspoken threat in them. 

If you keep pushing yourself, I will too.

“Billy, I can’t just sit around all day. I have things to do,”

“What things?”

“Things,” You press. “I have to– clean and make food. And care for you. That’s my job,”

“It’s clean, Sister,” He says, waving his arm around the mostly bare room. “There’s not much you can do. And we can wait for food, I’m not even hungry yet. What else are you tryin’ to do?”

Your eyes close and sigh, praying to God to give you patience because you know that your own stubbornness is as much a strength as it is a hindrance and you can quickly see that the same could be said for your young outlaw charge as well. 

“Do you need to use the bedpan?” You repeat. 

“No,” Billy says, and he sounds just as over the conversation as you feel. “M’fine.”

“Fine,”

He expects you to return to the bed, you can see in those eyes how he thinks it’s a battle he’s won. And perhaps he has, in a way. But you’re still in charge here and you’re not going to let him know that right away. 

You turn on your heel, exiting the bedroom as swiftly as you can bear and Billy’s shout of protest races from the bed and follows you out in the main room. 

“Sister y/n!”

“Hold your horses, Billy,” You call back, raising your hand up as if to wave him off. “I’m just grabbing something.”

Your bag is sitting next to your makeshift bed and you make sure to use your knees this time when you bend down to grab it. You can feel Billy’s gaze burning into your back as you rummage through it and even though there’s only so many supplies you were able to stuff into your bag before you left the clinic, you’re still relieved when you’re able to find what you’re looking for rather quickly.  

Billy eyes the knitting needles and balls of yarn cradled in your arms as you bring them back to the bed. They follow the needles and yarn as you drop them on the mattress and then flick back up to yours, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, if I can’t be useful on my feet, I’m going to at least be productive off them,” You tell him. You raise your eyebrow, daring him to object.

He doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the supplies out of your way and motions to the newly cleared space with an open palm. 

“Then I reckon you should get off those feet, Sister,” He smirks.

It feels almost like giving up as you settle back down on the bed. You know it’s not - you can only do what your body is allowing you to do. Pushing through the pain or discomfort is fine to a point, but only if there is truly a need for it and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Billy is right. There is no need for you to be up on your feet right now and continuing to give in to your stubbornness is doing more harm than good. The Lord has given your body the ability to give you physical clues as to what it needs. You thirst when you need water, hunger when you need food, and get tired when you need rest. It’s speaking to you now - telling you how the current sleeping environment you’ve put it in has not provided it with the rest and comfort it needs to recuperate from the day to day demands and now it's making you. 

Your body is a temple, and you have to respect it and care for its needs. 

But just sitting here still feels like failure. You’ve never been one to just sit around for so long and the past few days of doing just that has made your patience run a bit thin. You are a healer. You help people. Doing anything and everything you can for them in their moments of need and it's in those moments that you receive your strength. You didn’t expect to be running around from room to room here as often as you were while working in the clinic, but not having a choice in the matter is more difficult than you could have imagined. 

The Lord has designed you to be His helper. Your life’s mission is to help people. 

But now you’re finding it hard to even help yourself, and that alone feels like failure. 

You close your eyes and send up a brief prayer, apologizing for your pause in the task that He’s granted you by inadvertently hurting the body He’s blessed you with and asking Him to grant you the strength and patience needed to overcome this hurdle. 

When you open your eyes, Billy’s still staring at you.

“You seem like you got somethin’ weighin’ on your mind, Sister,” He says.

You shake your head, smiling kindly at him. He’s a sweet boy - kind and caring despite the fact that he’s been the victim of some of your frustration today. “Nothing you need burden yourself with, Billy,”

His eyes are earnest as he watches you, leaning in closer as he says, “Nothin’ you do could ever be a burden to me,”

“Oh, is that so?” You say, the corner of your lips tugging mischievously as you grab your knitting needles and a new ball of yarn. You grab the free end of the yarn, pulling the starting length enough to give you enough to work with before tossing the ball at Billy. His hands are quick to grab it despite being unprepared for the throw and another small smile creeps on his face as he holds the soft sphere in his hand. “Then you won’t mind holding that and making sure my yarn doesn’t knot as I work, right?”

“No, Ma’am. Not at all,”

It’s cozy, you have to admit - working in silence as you cast the yarn onto your needles. The yarn is soft as your fingers brush against the developing chunk of project, and Billy must think so too since you can see how his thumb keeps swiping across the ball kept in his hand. He’s a good helper, keeping the working end of the yarn held loosely between his pointer and middle finger, just enough to guide it and prevent any catching or knots. 

You’re making a blanket for the clinic. The rushed packing job almost saw that you had no form of productive entertainment on this trip, but thankfully Sister Ann had enough wits about her to suggest taking your knitting materials. Some of the blankets in the clinic are old and worn, some even well-loved enough to have holes in them. You won’t throw them away. That’s wasteful and you’ll continue to mend them until you can’t. But the clinic can be a sad enough place already, and if you can brighten someone’s day with a blanket that’s not ripped beyond belief and put back together again by the power of God and some well placed stitches, then you’d like to make that happen for them. 

Plus, winter will be coming soon. And things can get mighty cold around here. 

Billy is content to just watch you, eyes fixated on the movements of your hands and the way the yarn is twisted and eased into the blanket. At one point, you ask if Billy wants to knit too. You have a spare set of knitting needles in your bag and you figure that it might be funner for him to knit too instead of just watching you twist yarn over itself for hours on end. You could teach him if his Ma never did. Knitting is a valuable life skill. The ability to create new clothes or household goods from practically nothing is priceless. 

But he shakes his head with a polite ‘no, thank you”. 

“Why not?” You ask. “You don’t want to learn?”

“It’s not that,” He replies, still playing with the yarn ball in his hand. “I’d just rather watch you. It’s calming.”

Calming is an interesting way to describe watching someone knit. It’s calming for you - you enjoy it and it's a nice hobby along with being a practical skill to have under your belt. But watching someone knit? You don’t think you could do that for very long without trying to grab a pair of knitting needles for yourself. 

“My Ma used to knit,” He says after a while. “I used to watch her make us sweaters or scarves for the winter. I used to hold her yarn too. Just like this.” A small smile pulls at his mouth at the memory. “I would respin the yarn for her when the balls would come undone. It was calming, just sittin’ there with her, in her presence, watching her repeat the patterns over and over.”

His fingers slide across the ball a bit, feeling the texture under his fingertips before he pulls a little more yarn from the ball to give your working strand some more slack. 

“This feels like that,” He continues. “Here with you right now makes me feel like I did with her. At peace.”

Your chest clenches at his words and your hand closest to him drops one of the needles before reaching up and resting it on his shoulder. 

“I’m honored,” You tell him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His eyes flick down to where your hand is cradling his shoulder before they meet yours again, and you're shocked to see a sort of desperation in them with they lock on yours.

“I always pictured I would do it for my own wife one day,” He whispers. “Supportin’ her while she makes somethin’ beautiful for our kids to wear. Or somethin’ warm for them to snuggle up in.”

“You will,” You say. Your hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek before you move to grab the knitting needles again. “The Lord will bless you with someone wonderful, Billy. I know He will.”

You hear him hum next to you, but you keep your eyes forward and focused on your project. You know what that hum means. 

“Don’t think I need the Lord’s help much,” He says. “I think I can manage just fine on my own.”

The blanket quickly comes to life under your fingers, skillful movements manipulating the yarn into a solid and beautifully woven product that you think will look so homely laid out on the beds of the clinic. Sometimes things can get so boring, bland colors and a too sanitary palette can make an already dreary situation all the more woeful. The pretty blue of the blanket would make a nice contrast to all the white and gray. 

Billy watches as you work and keeps the yarn from getting tangled when the balls reach their end and loosen from their coiled form. You only stop a few times throughout the day - once to eat some quickly made oatmeal, once so you can check on Billy’s wound and replace the bandage, and a few times so you could relieve yourselves. By the time the yarn balls you’ve pulled from your bag have been knitted into the blanket, it’s dark out and you have only the small lamp by the bedside table to give you light. 

The blanket rests in your lap, knitting needles still in your hand as you look towards the bedroom door and out to where you can see your sleeping area still set up. 

“You’re sleeping on the bed,” He says, firmly, as if he can read your mind and see the thoughts you haven’t even fully formed yet. 

It’s for the best. You know it’s for the best. The Lord wouldn’t strike you down for doing what you have to do to let yourself heal, even if it means sharing a bed with a man. 

And still… “I shouldn’t,”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, already sliding a leg over the side of the bed and you’re grabbing hold of his arm before you can think about what you’re doing. 

“No!” You shout, fingers digging hard into his bicep. “You’re injured! You need to stay in the bed.”

He pauses, eyes boring into yours. “You are too,”

“I know,” You say, releasing his arm. Your palm gently rubs over the area you grabbed, trying to soothe any hurt you might have caused when you grabbed him. “I know. I’ll stay.”

He relaxes at your words, lifting his leg back on the bed as he leans back against the pillow. 

“I’ll be respectful,” He whispers and the blue of his eyes shines brightly even in the dim glow of the lamp. “I swear.”

You follow his lead, carefully tossing the knitted blanket on the floor and laying back slowly, being mindful of your back as you rest your head on the balled up blanket you snagged from your sleeping spot the last time you got up to make dinner. 

“I know you will,” 

You haven’t known him for long, but you feel like if there is any man you can trust to be respectful in a situation like this - it’s Billy. 

You can see God in him, even if he can’t see Him within himself. 

But it still feels weird, feels wrong - sleeping next to another man. And you turn your head to the side, away from Billy, so he doesn’t see the silent tears that flow down your cheek and into the fabric where your face presses harder against the blanket.

You pray until you fall asleep. 

There’s a hand on you when you wake up in the middle of the night.

It’s still dark in the room, your groggy eyes opening to pitch black and even though you can’t see anything, you can feel that you’ve flipped over at some point during your sleep. 

It gives your back some relief, being on your stomach like this. And the hand gently rubbing up and down the length of your spine helps to bring even more relief. The hand is big, taking up a wide expanse along your back and the soothing back and forth motion of it helps to keep you in the blissful fog of sleep. 

You find that your back does feel a little better come the morning thanks to the Lord's healing touch.

Taglist: @queenofshinigamis

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 15 "Herr God, Beware"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter in particular. It was my favorite out of the entire fic 🥺🥺 And now, just some smut before we enter the finale (3 more chapters) 🥹

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →

Feyd-Rautha's strong hand clutches the wrist of his giggling, ticking time bomb as he herds her down the hollow hallway, back to her own chambers. Blackened water still dribbles down the thick curve of his pale calves and his feet leave wet imprints on the tiles. A black bathrobe clings damply to his shoulders, fabric curling around the salacious shape of his muscles.

Lilia quickly vacates her Lady's quarters and closes the door, Glugo at her hand, when the half undressed na-Baron and his beloved rush past her into the bedroom in a hurry.

His darling had wanted to have him right there in his tub. He had to stop her, rising out of the diluted healing concoction dripping wet. For their first time as proper betrotheds, he doesn't want to be submerged in claustrophobic bath water. He has a special place in mind, one that has her eyes growing round when she realizes that Feyd-Rautha does not intend to fuck her on the bed.

"Feyd! It's meant for cryo sleep, not for—"

"Open the lid, my darling, please."

Desire claws at his belly and a near perverse delight floods him when his fiancée obeys. Her pupils give a telltale flicker to the side and the top of the Sarcophagus swings open by her invisible command.

"What are you doing?" She giggles, her voice still high-pitched from the afternoon's victory.

Feyd-Rautha lets the bath robe drop to the floor and her eyes fall from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and the muscles of his glutes that flex beneath his fair skin when he raises one long leg and climbs into the man-shaped mold that had sheltered his darling during her long journey between the stars.

"I want you to have me in here."

His semi-hard cock falls against his navel as he sinks down. The gel padding of the mold is surprisingly soft, cool to the touch but quickly warming up to his damp skin. The surrounding walls are lined with tubes like blood vessels and the chamber hugs him like he was transferred back into the womb.

"It's designed for one person," she scolds, but her hands are already at her waist, sliding under the hem of her trousers.

"And your trousers are designed for men, yet you are wearing them." Feyd-Rautha lets one corded arm dangle out of the sarcophagus, beckoning his betrothed closer with a curl of his hand. "Come here," he purrs. "Sit in my lap."

"You dare lecture me on my clothing when I've just discovered—?" Her trousers and boots are kicked to the floor with ferocity and when she climbs into the mold to him, Feyd's cock swells to full hardness without even a touch. His woman's eyes flash with the kind of indignance that he had hoped to spark.

His pelvis leaves just enough space on each side of the chamber for her to slot her folded legs, though it is a tight fit. Feyd-Rautha's hard flanks warm her knees and she frees her torso from the cover of her tunic with a swift curl of her arms that has her chest popping out and her breasts lifting as she stretches her arms high. The garment tumbles to the floor and Feyd-Rautha's hands are immediately at her hips and belly.

When she meets his gaze and lets the apex of her thighs sink down on his pelvis, feeling the soft squishiness of his balls against her cunt, she realizes the true nature of Feyd's provocation. While her eyes are glaring with fire, his are glossy and wanton like the deep-blue oceans of her old home.

The hand with which she intends to aim the gun at the Baron slides over Feyd-Rautha's warm chest, where his heart beats, and he makes no move to overpower her or coax her into action, just holding her expectantly to his straining manhood. She lowers her voice, wild giggles replaced by a sultriness that comes from the overflowing well of her earlier victory. 

"Is that what you desire right now?" She coos, eyes gliding proudly over the hard, masculine body that lies so docile beneath her. He has been vulnerable with her before, when he needed her touch to keep himself from drowning, but never like this. Not with his pretty mouth open and his blue eyes rendered so dark with lust, like he's going to come apart willingly at a fleeting touch of her hand.

His submission is not an escape tonight, it is triumphant.

Feyd-Rautha nods and his tongue darts out briefly to wet his pink bottom lip. She eclipses the light of the golden glow globe and he readily cranes his head for her trailing hand, moaning when her fingers encircle his throat. The thick tendons that stretch from base to jaw strain against her palms, yielding under pressure, because despite how hard he looks, Feyd-Rautha is made of soft flesh, like anyone else.

As he gazes up admiringly, he briefly wonders how old his betrothed actually is. He's never asked her, but she glances down at him with a wisdom and confidence that melt his bones. Willingly, his knees fall apart against the walls of the man-sized cavern.

She's going to make it alright. She's going to cure his rot.

"Can you ask me again?" He demands pleadingly, his voice a low rasp that vibrates against the palm of her hand.

"Ask you what?" Her thumb brushes over the sharp tip of his Adam's Apple. It is cute, the way it jumps away from her touch, like a frightened animal.

"To be your husband."

"But you already said yes," she purrs and makes sure that he feels the weight of her against his pelvis. With the way she's seated on him, her clit comes to rub against his smooth pubic mound as she leans forward a little.

"But I want to say it again," Feyd-Rautha confesses. A part of him yearns for her to ask him again every new day, so he knows she hasn't changed her mind.

"How about you ask me now?" At that, her betrothed's strong fingers twitch around the soft flesh of her hips.

"Will you be my wife, my darling? Will you honor and serve me til death do us part?" His pupils fill out the blue pools of his irises with comical dilation and a heavy inhale raises his chest a bit closer to her breasts.

"Is that how Harkonnens ask for the hand of their Lady?"

"You need to say yes," Feyd-Rautha snarls with a pleading darkness gathering behind his eyes.

"I will, if you ask me right." Her cheeks are rounded in a coy grin, infuriatingly disregarding the distress that pounds against Feyd's ribs. His hold on her tightens and so does hers around his pale throat. At the possessive touch of him, her cunt provides moisture that flows across Feyd-Rautha's sac.

"Will you be my wife and let me honor and serve you til death do us part?"

She laughs brightly and the flexing of her muscles brings the cradle of her thighs against his pelvis in an involuntary jerk. When her betrothed moans, she repeats the same motion, this time deliberately, and leans down to his face, nestling it within her palms.

"I was thinking more of loving and caring for each other til death do us part, but I suppose honoring and serving works too, as long as we both do it."

"And does that mean yes?"

"Of course it does, silly boy. Yes, I will be your wife. And my wedding gift to you will be death."

He shudders obscenely at the power that lies at their fingertips. The power to not only put an end to his tormentor's regime, but to throw the universe into a new dark age — The universe that had always looked away from his suffering, endorsed it.

"Would you say this is a worthy gift, my love?" His woman purrs lovingly and slowly grinds her sweet, wet cunt against the base of his cock. 

Feyd-Rautha nods, moaning quietly. His hands just lightly aid the rolling of her pelvis that has his cock jump longingly against her abdomen, plump head almost nudging her navel. She feels the velvety hardness of him against her belly and arches her spine to meet the next twitch of his aching length.

"Then so be it."

One hand abandons his neck and embarks on a journey down the length of his smooth, tapered torso.

Feyd is the perfect harmony of strong and vulnerable. Thick muscles wrapped around his chest and shoulders, his thighs powerful and hard, his wiry forearms entwisted by prominent veins that stretch all the way down to his hands, knuckles still dusted in the purple remnants of bruises from the afternoon brawl. 

Yet, there is a graceful felinity to his long limbs and slender core and the way he carries himself, every muscle in a perfect equilibrium of poise. The skin she skims is made soft by lotions and oils, the perfectly delicate cover for the hard swells of his abdominal muscles that flex deliciously in the wake of her fleeting fingertips.

"Woman~" he moans low and sweetly and her gaze falls on the absurd dip of his cupid's bow and the plump curve that defines his bottom lip.

"Yes?" Her fingertips gently dance around his twitching length, indulging his abdomen in ticklish caress while avoiding the place where he aches all over.

"Please." Feyd's pelvis rolls up against her cunt, bare feet seeking purchase against the odd, cushioned floor of the sarcophagus.

To Feyd-Rautha, tonight is a night of self-indulgent weakness. He has grown long tired of living behind the guards of violent defense that he has erected around himself, sick of the impotent fear and rage his uncle has cultivated in his misshapen boy heart.

Perhaps Feyd would have been able to kill the Baron without her. But an animal may not be able to free itself from its cage, even when the key in the lock is turned. It may just need someone to push the handle and open the gate.

His darling may be diabolical for the knowledge she has unlocked with the aid of the machine that calmly hums beneath his back, but she is not diabolical to him. One sweet plea from his lips has her lifting her pelvis and his cock readily jumps against the folds of her cunt.

Another day, his hand would have been around the thick base of his cock to angle himself into her entrance, but tonight he waits for her smaller hand to guide him. The briefest of touch has his mouth open and his neck strained in anticipation, and then the wet heat of her meets his weeping slit.

"Oof~" A little sound escapes her lungs when the blunt tip of him spears her open wide, generously slick but otherwise unprepared. She holds herself there, fingers twisted into the skin of his tensing stomach. Feyd-Rautha waits with agonizing patience as the head of his cock is veritably crushed by her tight walls.

He is so absurdly sensitive, the impossibly slow descent of her pelvis has him hissing through his teeth.

"God, what did they, agh, feed you to make you grow to this size?"

Feyd-Rautha lets out a burst of boyish laughter, then curses to the Sun in Harkunnin  before he can tell her that, if not genetics, it could have only been the extraordinarily carnivorous diet he had enjoyed as a boy. She raises herself and the slow glide of her cunt massages the aching inches of his cock.

His voice grows guttural and deliciously pathetic as she establishes a slow, rolling pace, aided only gently by the push and pull of his hands. He feels truly cocooned in the way her walls wrap around his cock and her soft hands on his chest press him down into the cushioned gel pads.

The moisture from the bath has long dried on his skin and what dampens it now is a warm flush of arousal. Blue eyes are glued to the movement of her flesh, trailing over her tummy and breasts before meeting the calm, simmering confidence in her eyes. Her torso folds itself halfway over his chest, one hand propped against the gel cushion next to his head, the other cupping his flexing jaws.

"My baby just needs someone to take care of him, isn't that right?"

Feyd-Rautha's brows twitch briefly at the unfamiliar moniker, but its meaning is clear and his pelvis shudders against his will. A deep, sweet desire blossoms at the base of his spine, waiting to be spilled.

"My baby boy has been so lonely all his life, but I'm here now. I'm taking care of you."

He wants to be something for someone, something of value, something precious, something coveted and even vulnerable. For once in his life, someone is standing up for him and Feyd falls head first into the white-hot ignition of love that pulses at his core and reaches so quickly into his balls and the root of his cock.

"Yeeesss," he moans, brows scrunching together tightly. The steady rocking of his beloved's hips milks him dry of his cum and his lungs wheeze in breathless huffs. Tears prick at his eyes below closed lids.

"My darling," she sighs, her voice a shiver that flows across his face along with her hot breath, so close, so sweet.

"More," he demands even though his empty cock begins to burn from the deep rhythm that fills her out from entrance to navel. Feyd-Rautha's strong fingers cling needily to her hips and she grins upon his request, straightening herself. A bead of sweat dribbles down between her breasts.

"Then be good and help me, yes?"

His thumb is on her bundle of nerves before she can even finish her sentence, blue eyes wickedly gleaming with determination. It is the least he can do to reward her for being an angel sent to him across space and time. 

Her pelvis rolls back and forth, meeting the perfectly placed pressure of the pad of his thumb. Even with him half flaccid, she still feels deliciously full, and the gravelly moans she pulls from his throat sinfully aid the approach of her climax, a tightening pressure against the base of her spine that seems to be pulling every muscle inwards to her core.

In their wake, they make a mess all over his lap and balls, inky seed marking them both in sticky trails.

Where another man might struggle, Feyd-Rautha has little trouble growing hard again from having his future wife around his overstimulated cock. The pleasure-pain of it makes him sink his teeth into his plush bottom lip and his fingers into her waist, taking back a smidge of control. His shaft twitches against her tender walls.

"Just like thi-is, ahh, Feyd—!" Her toes curl against the outsides of his thighs.

"Almost there, sweetling," he promises, positioning his soles safely against the cushioned ground and then pistons up into her cunt. The force and stamina behind his thrusts is effortless, splitting her poise. Her torso falls against his, breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, lips finding his.

Feyd-Rautha drinks up his to-be wife's needy whines like wine from a chalice, wraps one strong arm around her middle while his thumb remains on her swollen, little clit. His cock does the rest, rhythm powered by his thick thighs, he slams himself into her slick cunt.

Moments away from climax, her tongue squirms against his and her pelvis tries to escape from his hold, the first tendrils of white-hot pleasure so overwhelming that her first reaction is flight. But Feyd-Rautha's grip screws itself tight around her waist and the next, perfect circle of his thumb has her coming apart on his cock, drool slipping into his open mouth, in glistening rivulets down his black teeth.

Feyd gives himself to the sweet strangulation of her cunt, shuddering from each burst of seed that is wrenched from his balls. Each clench of their combined release sparks like a bang of fireworks, a rumble that shakes the fundament of the universe.

Their bodies grow still aside from their lungs' heaving and Feyd-Rautha's cheeks are dusted in a blush, lids drooping low as he lets his big hands wander over the curves of her body in blissful delirium. When his hand arrives in her nape, their lips meet again for a slow dance in the afterglow of their release — lazy, sloppy kisses and slow grinding of their hips while sweat cools on their flesh.

A silly thought tugs on the strings of his drowsy mind. If he fell asleep right here and she closed the lid of her sarcophagus over him, he could time travel to a world where the Baron is already dead and burned. He has not a doubt in his heart that she will make it happen.

With a sweet sigh, his darling straightens herself, fingertips lingering on his belly as she admires him from above. Golden glowglobe light spills from the crown of her head down her shoulders like a bridal veil, like a ruler's cape. Feyd-Rautha's hand moves up her sternum and cups her warm cheek. Her lashes flutter shut and she exhales slowly, and by the time she casts them open again, her gaze has sharpened itself to the tip of a spear.

She was an unshaped piece of wood, pulled out of the grave, then carved into a lumpy shape by the Bene Gesserit and set on the board, a wildcard pawn with promising genes, ready to play.

Now, she is about to shatter the chessboard with a fractal hammer, because now she has a reason. 

For him. For her new kin. And out of rage. And for freedom.

The Bene Gesserit didn't just open a relic from space. What they did is unleash an invasive species from a time capsule into a delicately stable ecosystem, and she intends to unravel it like a tumor from within.

Ash, ash — You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the [ice] I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

   - Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

A/N: Because I'm an asshole, I will say the following: Two characters will die in the next chapter, and one of them you're looking forward to. Give me your best guesses 😌✨ If anyone guesses correctly, I'll eat my own arm.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[flowersbane]

maybe i have trauma or something but the whole “lucanis will remember your favorite drink” thing is one of the sweetest things to me like ofc he teases you with the little “eugh” if you tell him you prefer tea over coffee, but, like, he still supports your preferences and i got this line when i walked into the dining room one day that was like “if you’re looking for the tea, it’s on the top shelf” and i dunno whyyy but i got all mushy and was like 🥺 you remembered 🥺

honestly most swoon worthy thing he does in my books

[jaegerisim]

Vent post y'all are gonna hate me for.

I viscerally hate how the Duffers treat most of their non white or queer characters and I hate even more viscerally, how y'all big byler blogs in your circle jerk of other 5 big byler blogs casually like to ignore many red flags the show has.

Y'all like to say: "tHe DufFeRs ArE gReAt WrIteRs" and it's like girl, who are you lying to??? They aren't top shit writers at all. The Duffers are pretty mid imo. Yeah, they run a good show that's fun to watch and theorize abt , but that doesn't mean they're good writers cuz they're not.

1. they completely side lined Will during s3 for the sake of their straight romances: lumax, jancy, mlvn, duzie and partly stobin (even if stobin wasn't endgame, thankfully, Steve's intentions were clearly wanting to date Robin and they gave it a lot of screen time). Will was sidelined bc he didn't fit the straight romance plotline bc they planned to make him gay or whatever. Now in s4 Will and his feelings have been used as mlvn toilet paper. Yes, we like to say this is build up for byler but canonically, Will's feelings have been used to clean the shit mlvn leaves behind.

2. Billy was sympathized a lot during the last 2 seasons. They gave him the sad backstoryTM in order for ppl to feel sorry for him. Billy's backstory is literally Jonathan's but whatever.

3. El's anger issues are constantly girlboss-ified. They down play her bullying situation and literally just use it for El to be a ''girlboss" without realizing how triggering that is. As someone who has lived bullying, seeing it be ignored by canon and fanon is super sad. The whole Rink-O' Mania experience must have been so traumatizing for her yet, everyone absolutely forgets abt it 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. Robin, Erica and Argyle are stereotypical characters. Robin is the quirky lesbian with social anxiety, Erica is the badass black woman and Argyle is the Latino stoner that sells weed to white kids and works as a pizza delivery guy.

5. Altho Argyle and Eddie both do drugs, (Eddie actually sells K-12 to a minor and nobody batted an eye. He has a huge fan base). Eddie is held in a pedestal bc "poor thing 🥺 he lives in a trailer with his uncle 🥺". Tell me a single fact you know abt Argyle that isn't "he smokes weed", "he is Jonathan's only friend", "drives a van" and "he works at a pizzeria". Exactly, Eddie is given a useless backstory and Argyle isn't.

6. Dustin stopped being important to the plot sometime around s2 and s3. He is only there to curse and be mildly funny. My guy needs to hangout with ppl his age cuz he only hangs out with seniors.

7. El needs to stop having so much "I'M THAT BITCH" screentime like I need in s5 for El's arc to not just be her becoming more powerful and falling in love with Mike. I need the Duffers to explore her trauma and problems.

8. Angela should have been run over by the van.

9. Patrick should have been given a backstory that isn't the basic "strict black parents that hit their kids cuz they are a disgrace". Patrick's backstory is actually racist af, fight w the wall.

10. As Lex already said, they didn't trigger tag the ep where Jason and his friends assault Lucas and Erica. Like wtf? Why was that necessary? Why did I have to see a black boy being held at gunpoint by some white guy?? Was it relevant to the plot?? I don't think so. And then I've got to see ppl online be like "Jason wasn't that bad. He was just mourning" like bitch you can stfu. This is what happens when you make the racist assholes conventionally attractive.

Also the fact that Lucas's arc is fulfilled by him fist-fighting Jason and "embracing his weirdness" aka accepting he is black. His arc was not fulfilled at all cuz that ending spoke so loud to me. It showed how little empathy ppl have towards the struggles poc ppl living in the Midwest have. Y'all circle jerks can only see racism when it's super obvious.

Furthermore, parents complained when ST showed "an excessive amount of smoking" yet nobody batted an eye when Billy tried to run over Lucas, when Erica (an 11 y.o ffs) was chased by white kids or when Lucas was held at gunpoint by Jason.

All of this happened while they focused on Max's guilt and mourning that, yeah, are important but certainly not less important than racism!!!

11. In s3, they gave us that whole Nancy vs The Bigots arc that was honestly just triggering and useless. It didn't help Nancy's character at all, quite the opposite it put unnecessary angst.

12. Lonnie being presented as an abuser just for him to never be spoken of again. Can we please get to explore the trauma he left the Byers's with?

13. The fact that both queer relationships are considered "sloppy seconds" is extremely sad. Both Vickie and Mike are rebounding from their failed relationship with Robin and Will. These 2 ships have caused more commotion than Jancy and Jopper together! (These last ships are technically sloppy seconds too but everybody forgets that. Shocker!!)

14. Last but not least, ppl blame Argyle for being the one to get Jonathan into smoking weed as if Jonathan probably wasn't the one looking for it. Let me tell you, that you only find weed if you look for it.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Omg loveeee your works and the smol kings 😍 Can I have some more plssssss 🥺 Like MC teasing them for being so little (poke and bite those cheeks... 👉👈), then carrying them in their hands for cuddles or some kissie and huggie 🥹🥹🥹 Or any other fluff stuff too!!!!!

Ahhh they're just too precious 🥺 Nobles move aside, it's time to take care of these rascals personally. Little, lovable rascals. The more I see them like this, the more I hope that PB will take the opportunity and turn them into kids one day. Even for a moment. Let me hold and cuddle baby Satan pleeeaseee 🙏🙏

PS. I swear it supposed to be fluff BUT Levi said noooo who need fluff when we can have ✨trauma✨. He doesn't cooperate even in fanfics.

Satan

Remember how Sitri was worried about whether it was good idea to show Satan to people of Gehenna? You found out how wrong he was as soon as the other kids appeared on the horizon. Satan's gaze was glued to them. Silenced by the Paimon’s bubble gum, tearing the teddy bears brought by Leraye, didn't even pay attention to the nobles, he just grabbed your hand and pointed towards the group of kids with sticks.

"Over there! Let’s go!"

You were alone with him for a while, but it wouldn't hurt if you two went out to play, right? He didn't need the nobles' presence. But you? You were supposed to sit with him and the kids. When Satan took a stick they were pretending is a gun, you expected to get one too. Instead, he stood in front of you and stated seriously:

“You're my queen, you don't fight! I'm fighting for you.”

He looked so cute that you burst out laughing and pinched his fluffy cheek. He groaned and pushed your hand away. 

"No! You can't! You don't do that to warriors!”

“Then protect me bravely, my king.”

You moved away to a safe distance so as not to accidentally get hit by a piece of bark or a bullet of the mud. Two women who stood a little further away, apparently the mothers of some kids from group, invited you to join them.

“I didn't know you had children, he looks so sweet…”

“He's really strong! Just like his majesty Satan. Incredible”

You watched tenderly as the little ones rolled in the dust and puddles. Kids. You had to explain everything to the women, but maybe not yet. A family with him… The very idea melted you inside. More and more often you wondered if you really wanted to come back to Earth.

Mammon

You were gone for fifteen minutes at most. It took you a moment of wandering around the gallery to find the bathroom, and then an even longer moment not to get lost in the bathroom itself (why was a sauna there?). As you returned to the alley where you left the nobles with the little king, you heard howling. You had a bad feeling. They were confirmed when you turned between the shelves and a scene straight from Dante's Inferno appeared before your eyes.

Bimet was crouching and waving toy cars, Eligos was swinging a gold-plated candy bar, and Mammon was sitting on the floor and crying. Valefor was the only one who looked conscious, with the phone to his ear.

“There you are,” he smiled with relief as you came closer in your stupor. “I tried to call you. His Majesty… You see what happened as soon as you left us.”

Bimet narrowed his eyes and huffed.

“Come here and fix it.”

You didn't even feel like making fun of them because this sobbing was tearing your heart apart. Mammon was really tiny as a child. You knelt down and gathered him in your arms, his slim body clinging to you with all his frail strength. He calmed down, but only a little.

“Here, here. Everything's fine. What happened?"

“I found… something… for you.” His voice was interrupted by hiccups. "But you were not there…"

You kissed the top of his head, between the curled horns. His head sometimes tilted to the left, where the heavier horn was.

“Shhh, I won't leave you anymore.”

“You promise?”

You nodded, and the kid smiled through his tears. He sniffed and pressed a candy bracelet into your hand. When he grabbed your hand, you felt that he still had some of his adult strength in him. From now on, you were forbidden to leave his side.

Beelzebub

You spent the entire day running back and forth around Avisos after the little king who refused to sit still. You thought your legs were going to fall off. When you were sitting on the couch in the office and the little boy was falling asleep on your lap, you realized that you simply went about it wrong. It was a better idea to take him to the feast immediately. It's true that he ate three pubs, but this bill was nothing compared to his usual conquests. He lay curled up, his head in your lap, holding your hand.

“My tummy hurts.”

Bael, although he took pity enough not to rush him to work, still preferred to have you both with him, in the office.

“So you didn't have to eat that much?”

“I am the king of gluttony.”

“You're a little worm, Beel. This is how you end up mixing newt eyes with Eastern European moonshine. Next time you'll think about what you're cooking."

He was answered by a childish grumble, as Beel squeezed your hand tighter.

“Don't listen to Bael, he's stupid. It tasted so nice…”

"I heard it."

"He worries about you." You stroked the blond hair that you had already braided.

Beel wanted to talk to you again, take you somewhere, but you saw that his eyes were closing completely. You laid down on the couch and let him snuggle against your chest. 

Bael just glanced at you, but soon you were both asleep. He sighed and covered you with the blanket, and now that Beelzebub was asleep, he could stroke his hair a little too. Stupid... but he's still his king. And a friend, after all.

Leviathan

Young Levi was even quieter than usual, and much, much more fearful. He didn't want to have anything to do with anyone. He hid in corners and nooks, and the fact that he was tiny didn't help. You knew that the invisible Foras was watching over him, but that didn't calm you down. A gift for this child came to your mind, when you saw that all the pens were missing from the desk.

You found Levi hidden behind his coffin, with a stack of notes scattered around. All the drawings were black, gloomy and hastily sketched.

“Leviathan?”

He started like a frightened deer ready to run away.

“Don't go, please… it's me. It's just me. I have something for you."

He didn't back down, but he didn't invite you in either. Still, you sat down across from him and placed a new pack of colored pencils next to drawings. He looked at them, his small lips quivering as if he were holding back tears.

“I don't want them.”

"Why?"

“It wasn't… it wasn't colorful there.”

His drawings made it all too clear to you what he was thinking. You saw the castle of Hades and the spindly Levi himself. You could tell by the horns. But other children, with broken horns, with bandages...

“They want you to be happy.” You reached out and wiped away the tears that ran down his pale cheeks. Little fists rubbed eyes in anger. Tears came to your own eyes as you looked at his silent pain.

Leviathan himself must have felt terrified, because he stood up and staggered closer. Trembling fingers grabbed your sleeve. A piercing sob hit you straight in the heart. All you could do was cradle him in your arms. 

You took a new piece of paper, the brightest color you could find, and started to draw. You gently stroked the shaking shoulders and only picked up the paper when you finished.

"Look here."

Your artistic skills left much to be desired, especially that you didn’t draw with your leading hand, because thi one was holding a crying child. The picture of Levi with his nobles and, above all, you, was bursting with colors. Foras must have had a lot of fun seeing this, but you had to swallow your pride.

“It's nasty.” Levi commented through tears. “And Glasyal looks like he has a hump. That's not how it should look."

But you managed to distract him. Now, until he fell asleep in your arms, little Leviathan never left your side.

[lichtluxx]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟWho is Leviathan?

Leviathan is described as a primordial serpent, found in many ancient myths of the Middle East. The most famous being Tiamat, for example. Unlike many other entities, he does not appear in any known grimoire, but in the Bible itself.

Isaiah 27: Leviathan is described as a sea serpent, long, strong, twisted and swift.

Job 41: Leviathan is described as a monster with a mouth that spews flames, a nose that smokes, a breath that kindles fire, and strength in its neck.

Psalm 104: Leviathan is described as a sea monster that plays in the sea.

In Jewish mythology, YHWH created two Leviathans, one male and the other female, as a way of demonstrating his power. However, he killed the female one in fear of human extinction if the Leviathans reproduced. For this reason, for many practitioners, Leviathan can choose to appear as either a man (like in my case) or a woman, sometimes changing between both forms. His name comes from the Hebrew Livyatan which means to twist, turn or coil.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟENN:

Jaden Tasa Hoet Naca Leviathan

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟDates:

April 30th, May 2nd, September 21st

Monday

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟHerbs / flowers:

Lavander, iris, lotus, copal, mint, valerian, eucalyptus, sandalwood

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Crystals:

Aquamarine, Pearl, Obsidian, Sapphire, Moonstone, Tanzanite, Black Tourmaline, Hydrogen Quartz, Amazonite, Black Jade, Clear Quartz

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟSigns? How do I know if he wants to work with me?

Signs can vary. For me, he simply appeared in a dream, so I didn't have many signs.

But it is common to think about the sea or feel like being in the water, dreaming about the sea, seeing his sigil (Leviathan cross) everywhere, seeing snake and/or ouroborus themed objects, him visiting your dreams.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟ Domains:

Darkness, emptiness/abyss, emotions, unconsciousness, dreams, shadow work, emotional healing/processing trauma, changes, justice, banishing magic and help in creating spells.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟTypes of offerings:

Pearls, shells, starfish, fossils, blood, seawater, bones, dragon, snake or ouroborus themed items, sweets, green tea or white tea, dark music, blue flowers, devotional art, study of philosophy, psychology and science.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ﾟFun fact:

Leviathan's most known sigil, well known as the "Satanic Cross" or the Brimstone symbol, it represents absolute balance. The two bars at the top of the cross symbolize double protection and the balance between the masculine and the feminine. The lower part shows the symbol of infinity, which symbolizes the eternal balance of the universe, of life and death, eternity and/or a double ouroborus that symbolizes the balance between the spiritual and the material.

A/n: Many people don't know who he is or don't work with him and, as someone who started working with him very recently, I wanted to make this little post in his honor 🥺

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

for all of spop's bad writing and tonal inconsistencies, they actually did a really good job of writing a scarily realistic abuser. catra acted exactly like how a lot of real-life abusers act, from the victim blaming and physical attacks to the casual insults that just find its way into the victim's head and stay there.

i would even argue that catra was a more realistic depiction of an abuser than shadow weaver. that's not to say that shadow weaver wasn't abusive, she totally was, but if we put aside the manipulation, she mostly used magic to abuse people. which could take away from the realism factor a little bit.

meanwhile catra only used magic when she used that first one's tech to mind control adora. other than that, she mostly used her hands or tools when she was physically abusing adora. you know, like a lot of real abusers do.

catra also displayed that classic self-pitying “woe is me!” attitude that shadow weaver often times did not. it's one thing for your villain to be horrible and abusive, it's another for them to think that they're the victim while they hurt and kill others. a lot of real people are like that where they think their actions are justified because they've had a hard life.

we also get a lot more instances of catra being abusive on screen, compared to shadow weaver. i can't speak for everyone but there's a reason why catra reminded me of That One Shitty Person In My Life more that shadow weaver did, despite them both being abusive.

when you watch the previous seasons, it's hard not to wonder if the writers planned to redeem catra at all. there were a lot of scenes that were just taken straight out of a psychological horror movie (looking at you, the portal sequence from s3) and i just can't imagine the writers thinking that this was the perfect redeemable villain.

i do think that any villain could be redeemed, regardless of how horrible they were. but the more ruthless your villain is, the more effort you need to put in to effectively redeem a villain. characters like amity or pacifica do not need long and drawn out redemptions because they were just mean girls. bullying is definitely a harmful thing, but it pales in comparison to abuse, murder and genocide.

anyway, i digress. my point is this: it would not be as frustrating if catra wasn't such a realistic portrayal of an abuser. the writers could have just made her a cartoonish villain and called it a day, but they didn't.

for example, it would be a lot less traumatizing if someone like bill cipher was redeemed (though it would be awfully out of character for him) because despite all his crimes, he was such an over-the-top cartoonish villain, it's hard to take him seriously.

the other characters don't seem to have any trauma from dealing with him. they're scared of him or mad at him, sure, but that's the extent of it. it would still feel ridiculous to have them suddenly forgive him, don't get me wrong, but it wouldn't be sending the message of “forgive your abuser, they're just really sad 🥺”.

[the-great-empress]

Revival Nostalgic

Part III:

(I'm not up to date with the manga)

Top five best female protagonists

It's a shojo, but it has hints of shonen and seinen (or at least for me)

My opinion about Yona in episode one 😡, my opinion about Yona after episode 1 😭🤧🥹😎

Zeno🥹

Shin-Ah🥺

Jae-Ha🥲

Kija 🥲

Yoon🥹

Character development 100%

Soo-Won son of a 🤬

The fate of dragons 😭😭

The power of Zeno💀☠️

Incest??

Ao is so pure for this world

The traumas of the four dragons

The past of the four dragons 💀

Friendzone

Just friends

Zeno's love 🤧 he was with her until the end😭

If Ao dies and I get depressed

Sad pasts and traumas for everyone!!

Most of them have traumas or bad pasts

I still love the color palette

Yona my goddess, Kouren my queen

The best character of all time:

✨Ao✨

Me talking about Ao:

Ao and Shin-Ah

🥹

[freakyahhblog]

★ my name is ruby

★ my time zone is CST

★ my pronouns are she/her

★ i’m omnisexual, so everyone is welcome!

★ i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, if i’m talking to you please tell me if that’s the case and i’ll make sure to fix it!

★ i’m a switch but usually only show my submissive side if we’re close, so this blog will probably be more dominant

★ i’m mainly really affectionate and kind and romantic but it really depends on my mood if i want to be mean. praise and light teasing are my go-to, though

★ no tolerance for discrimination or illegal activity, no slurs or hate speech also

★ not into nudes or eating/sucking someone due to trauma, if you do either of those things i will first give a warning in case you didn’t see, then block if it happens again

★ i type. A LOT. if you ask me a question and don’t want a long paragraph in response just tell me so i’ll become slightly more self aware 😭

★ this blog doesnt have to be just sexual, i’m also big into romantic intimacy i fucking love smothering people with affection!!!

i’m happy to accept asks if you respect all of this as well as my dos and donts (as well as anon list) below rip!

do: be cute! call me mommy, mistress, others, or just my name if you aren’t comfortable with those. i tease and give praise and degradation but i degrade only if asked so don’t be shy <3. overstimulation and edging are favorites. i can peg and top but have no problem with bottoming every once in a while, and i have no problem with things like somno or pet play kinks. also breeding, if i want to be bred or the one breeding depends on the day. i’ll choke, spit, bite, grope, spank, pull hair, and of course kisssss <3. but i’ll also do punishments if you’re being bratty on purpose, and i’ll do bdsm if i’m really feeling it. but my limits to that are below:

don’t: ask for things like scat or vore, i don’t do blood and i don’t like anything that involves actual deadly weapons like knives or guns. i dont don’t do actual torture like water boarding either, but clit, nipple, or cock torture are all on the table for those who want it! also don’t do actual non-consensual stuff, but i’m okay with a non-consensual roleplay so long as you make it clear that you really want it.

for the most part, just ask and i’ll tell you! i’ll add on later if i missed stuff.

anons: ♑️, 💋, 🍪, ✨, 🥺, 💞, 🌌, 🐀, 💖