#when I finally read the chapter I had to take a lap around my room from sheer happiness

[batterycows]

Why do I hear boss music

[frmisnow]

ONCE AGAIN, MILAN ! - (nsfw)

summary. what happens when you and jungkook find yourselves once again in milan, this time with no business attached — well a hol' lotta sex for sure!

notes. guysss i changed my mind! there will be a fifth chapter because there is something that i want them to do- a refrence to chp. 2 + they need to get lil cheonsa duh?? ✶𝄞 if y'all are currently reading this, i'm probs already on vacation! so it'll take a minute, regardless, i hope everybody enjoys!!

warnings/includes. non idol! ceo! jungkook x f! employee! reader, smut described/implied multiple times!! (morning sex, very slight voyeurism / heavy flirting in a boutique, NASTY dirty talk) , drabble-ish (idk i just want them to be happy), cheonsa mention (we cheered)

the morning had begun in the best way possible. the bright italian sun on your face, the hotel sheets lightly crumpled, well- and jungkook.

jungkook who had woken you up with gentle kisses starting from your face, moving to your shoulder, all the way to your tits. kissed your sore little thighs too, because "they deserved it" after all the things they've gone through - sure.

he made love to you. moaned how beautiful you were along with some other sweet dirty nothings.

it was the kind of sex that made you feel cherished, worshipped even, as if all of his love was burried solely in his tip and he poured all of it into you, when you both came.

after spending what felt like hours wrapped up in each other, you had finally left the bed, your body still tingling from the morning’s activities. the first spot was a cat café, jungkook had read about it somewhere, thinking of you.

you both had spent a few hours in there, sipping on your respective lattes, playing with the little cats while their tiny paws brush against your legs. jungkook had his polaroid camera out at all times, clicking away.

showed the photos to you, told you how cute you looked, how the kitten in your lap looked just like you. how you both should get little cheonsa just like that.

closely after, you both took your time strolling through the streets, hands intertwined, ending with him pushing you into a high-end boutique. you smiled at his eagerness, it wasn't the first time he spend that black card of his on you.

jungkook handed you a dress, that reminded more of a whisper of fabric rather then a real garment, leaving little to the imagination. but you instantly nodded, that's what you liked about being with him; you didn't feel shy, there was no reason to. not with every single thing jungkook has said about your body this far.

the fitting rooms were large, they felt like rooms by themselves. jungkook sat outside patentily, tapping his legs. when you walked out you could clearly see him trying his absolute best not to reach out his hands, his pupils widening ever so slightly, taking a deep breath to compose himself, "turn around, angel, for me."

you did as he said when done, walking over to take a seat on his thigh while his fingers immediately moved to stroke your thighs, mumbling how pretty you were.

the way you were sitting, so close to him, he could make out your pretty panties peeking under the dress. black lace, with little bows he had gifted to you when you visited that lingerie place a few days ago, thinking of you in that store didn't make his growing buldge any better.

and you most certaintly made it even worse by whispering into his ear, how much you needed him and how wet you've been ever since this morning.

he bit his lip, your body was so painfully close and your skirt only rode up, gently pinching your thigh almost as a light warning, "remember where we are"

following you made a little pout, but mumbled a reluctant 'fine' anyway, making your way back into the fitting room.

next stop was a restaurant, you hadn't even noticed that it had gotten late by this time but jungkook took care of it, as always. how he managed to get a reservation at this place, you didn't quite know but you certaintly weren't complaining. he had pulled your leg over his some time ago, running his hands over the skin, the action innoccent in a way caring, like he was so sorry that you had to walk this whole day even though he had spoiled you shamelessly.

his fingers drew patterns and tiny circles over the skin, his face glowing from what was left of the sun through the large windows.

"i'm so happy" you smile, your fingers moving through his hair lightly.

jungkook's lips curl into a soft smile, just like yours, leaning into your touch, "i'm happy too, angel" his voice low and affectionate, "everday"

the evening went exeptionelly well, he talked you stupid about some of the other things he wanted to do, didn't mention business even once.

you both walked back to the hotel, you liked the city at night and had asked him to walk instead of taking a taxi. he didn't let go of your hand, swinging.

he walked back to the hotel with you, holding your hand tightly, it had been your wish to stroll back, you liked the city at night. it all reminded you of that night but it was different this time, it felt good not having wine in your system.

for once you felt like you actually could love jungkook, without alcohol, without your job, any other factor in your way. you could fuck him freely without having to blame the alcohol for it, after.

love is lust. that's why he pounds you into the large matress, tells you how bad you've been, how greedy you were.

he asked questions, dirty ones, you were way to brain fucked to understand dare to say even answer.

asks how much you'd like it, him filling you up everywhere, in the bathrooms, around his apartment, in the elevator, during your shifts at work, how he'd make you walk around feeling full, feeling dripping and sticky under your skirt.

describes how he'd call you into his office just so he could take you nicely on his desk. have you walk out later, nod to all your colleagues, like a good girl.

you barerly hear him and the words make you moan out are vile things that people only say when they are about to come. how you wanted to marry him, have him around you all times, how much you wanted him every minute.

you thought about how small you'd want the wedding to be, you, him and little kitten cheonsa. and you moan again, like a porn star.

and he responds, gripping your hips tighter, "i'd marry you tomorrow if you asked me to, hell i'd make a baby with you right this second if you wanted."

he let out a grunted string of 'please's though you weren't even sure what he was begging you for. your brain felt so incredibly mushy.

few seconds later, he filled you up, making a mess of you. he instantly reached out to touch your chin gently to look at you, "you okay, princess?"

you managed to nod but he shock his head, "words, i need to hear you, angel" it was a soft order, one you couldn't look away from.

so you reassure him that you are happy and so content, he seems to like your words, smiling. lifting you up and maneuvering you on top of him, still inside of you. his fingers trace over your bare back soothingly as he lights a cigarette with his other hand, just like that night.

and you smiled to yourself because you knew. you knew that this time when you woke up, you wouldn't have to leave, you would be able to look at his sleeping smile as long as you wanted. it was a comforting thought.

— cheonsa means angel.

🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd , @1-in-abillion , @ahgasegotarmy116 , @copycat-namjesus , @malkaimoon , @geminiml95 , @taiwan0618 , @jungkookfics , @rrosiitas , @stuti2904 , @spiderlilyserendipity , @m00njinnie , @ririkookiemonster , @emptynessclub , @yoongznme , @snow-strawberry , @ttanniett

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[jayniks]

SEX NOTE SERIES

So, I decided to do this series to celebrate my 300 followers. You can ask me to add any idol + the situation, whether male or female. The final chapter will be sunoo, regardless of which idols come first.

🌊 ⏝⠀ ⚓️ ㅤ५‌ ۟ 𓂂 ꒰੭

SEX NOTE (l.hs)

After discovering the magic book, you tried to "test" it to see if it was true, you thought nothing would happen until you heard a chuckle behind you.

WC . 2.3k

PAIRING . Idol!heeseung x normal!reader

WARNINGS . ft. Jake Sim, if you saw the anime don't read this because it's not a faithful adaptation, sex (mdni), oral sex (both reciving), boobjob, boobsucking, playing with nipples, 3 rounds, sucking fingers, cum eating, dirty talk, spit play, foreplay, lmk if I missed anything else

Read here.

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Rockstar!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

Read here.

SEX NOTE (s.jy)

Your friend is jealous that, thanks to the book that HE gave you, you no longer pay attention to him, so he writes to you in that notebook in a fit of jealousy.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . childhoodfriend!jake x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (f receiving), lots of kisses, assjob(idk if it's called that), manhandling, spanking, let me know if I missed something

Relase date: after jay.

SEX NOTE (p.sh)

you carried that notebook everywhere, even to your doctor's office. you were in the middle of writing something when the doctor interrupted you, taking the notebook out of your hands.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . doctor!sunghoon x pacient!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), a little cnc if you think about it, teasing, fingering, masturbation (f receiving), creampie (the sword must have a sheath), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jake.

SEX NOTE (y.jw)

you wanted to know if it would work to create a fictional character from your mind, but when it was time to think of the name your cat jumped into your lap and ruined everything.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . HEAR ME OUR FIRST, I'M NOT A FURRY, READ FIRST cat-to-human!jungwon x owner!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), weird situation (HEAR ME OUT), pussy eating, nip licking, sub!won, lots of whimpering from wonie, mentions of "mommy", let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after sunghoon.

SEX NOTE (l.jn)

after the situation with your cat, you wanted to test what would happen if you did the same with your mother's old magazine.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . 90sModel!jeno x normal!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), unreal situation, cum on face, spit kink, eye contact, slapping, p in v, no protection but cums outside (never do that), let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jungwon.

SEX NOTE (k.js)

you had been on a week-long streak without using the book, a streak that was broken when you went to buy a coffee for your friend (oh, remembering Jake...) and saw the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bartender!jongseob x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), seob is a bit depressing, it's also a bit perv, facial, nipple licking (not the ones you think), sex on the table, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeno.

SEX NOTE (y.jm)

you were liking the massage too much, why not improve it?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . massager!karina x costumer!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), body caressing, dirty talk, rubbing, fingering, cum licking, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after jeongseob.

SEX NOTE (n.rk)

you were tired of your bully and his temporary girlfriend making your life miserable, so why not take revenge on both of them and get something in the process?

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . bully!niki x student!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), niki is really mean, oral sex (m reciving), anal, fingering, some hickeys, infidelity, squirting, let me know if I missed something

Relase date: after karina.

SEX NOTE (k.sn)

you shouldn't have been greedy, you shouldn't have to carry that stupid book everywhere, now you lost it. and the worst part? it fell into the wrong hands, now you're fucked.

WC . 2k~3k

PAIRING . nerd!obsessive!classmate!sunoo x oblivious!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), probably cnc, ropes to tie you, pussy eating, thigh job, creampie, cum eating, let me know if I missed anything

Relase date: after i posted all.

》 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 《

You were in your room procrastinating when your best friend, Jake Sim, came into your room throwing you a gift and then leaving as quickly as he arrived. You rolled your eyes at his action and then proceeded to open the gift. It was very badly wrapped and inside there was... a fucking notebook? You opened it to see what was inside. The cover said "sex note" but inside there were a few pages of rules and many more empty ones. The rules were:

• The human whose name is written in this note will appear to fuck you.

• This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

• If the way they fuck is written within 40 seconds of writing it, it will happend.

• If the scenario is not written/specified, the person will only appear to fuck you in missionary.

• Minors are totally prohibited, if you write the name of someone under 18 years and 6 months, you will die of a heart attack. The same applies to animals.

OK? weird...

[tomriddleslovergirl]

Me & My Husband

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your husband spend some time together.

Entering your shared chambers, Aemond walked over to the settee you sat upon. He grasped the belt wrapped around him, and unbuckled it. His sword fell to the floor with a clang.

You let out a gasp and looked over at your husband, who was now looking down at you.

"Oh, Aemond, I hadn't even noticed you were here! You frightened me." You playfully place your hand on the left side of your chest.

Aemond looked down at the book that laid across your lap. "And what were you entertaining yourself with, wife?"

You shut the book to get a look at the title. "A... history book," you finally answer. The title was too long, and you didn't have it in you to speak it.

A small smile painted Aemond's face. "I hadn't known you were fond of the histories."

"I'm not," You said, a confused frown on your face. There were just so many Lord's and Lady's, and you couldn't keep track of them all. "But you are, so I thought I could try to learn a bit."

"Ah." That certainly amused Aemond. "May I?" he gestured to the empty seat next to you. You nodded in confirmation.

He sat down and grabbed the book, taking a look at the title. The book was about Aegon the Conquerer. The first Targaryen king always interested Aemond, but his unworthy brother sharing the man's name always left a bitter feeling behind.

Aemond thumbed his way to the first chapter. "I could always read it to you. Explain what you don't understand."

That cheered you up a bit. Aemond had been so busy lately with the war, and you selfishly wished he would perhaps cut a council meeting short to spend time with you. "I would like that."

Aemond wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him until your head laid comfortably on his chest.

You reached up and gently untied Aemond's eye patch. He let you. Your husband was well aware of your need to see him without it when you two were alone. Even though you would be keeping your eyes on the book, it seemed you still wanted him bare before you.

The crackly of the fireplace filled the room as Aemond went to press a small kiss atop your forehead. You pull your head back, and instead press a clumsy kiss to his lips. You let out a small laugh as you pulled away.

"Always the tease," Aemond said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. This one was dirtier, and had you leaning into him and wanting more. "Now behave."

He cleared his throat and began reciting the tale of Aegon the Conqueror: "Aegon Targaryen's conquest of the Seven Kingdoms did not take place in a single day..."

[silverb0wties]

Lemonade - Part 5

leah williamson x alessia russo x child!reader

Summary: When something bad happens to your Mummy and Daddy, you end up living with your Aunty Lessi and Aunty Leah.  But is there room for you considering they have a new baby on the way?

Chapter Summary: the aftermath of your concussion

Warnings: pregnancy, self-harm, disordered eating, bullying

a/n: sorry if this chapter is a little bit dark in parts. if you're still reading the series, thanks so much for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know.

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ||

PART 5

You woke up on a plastic bed in a room that smelled like the awful cream your Mummy would rub on her legs after Netball, surrounded by a million different kinds and colours of sellotape.

You could hear voices, and you looked over to the corner of the room to find your Aunty Leah consoling your Aunty Lessi as she cried.  She looked distraught, her eyes red and puffy with tears.

“I should have known it would overwhelm her.  I was just so excited to share this with her…”

“Babe, she’s going to be okay.  We’re still learning all this, yeah?”

“But we’re meant to protect her, and… and I- I…” Aunty Lessi choked on her words before Aunty Leah cut her off.

“And I should have had a tighter grip on her when I saw she was panicking.  Like I said, we’re both still learning how to do this.  The medics said she’s got a bit of a concussion, but she’ll be alright.  We know how concussions work, so we’ve just got to keep our eyes on her and make sure she gets lots and lots of rest.”

There was a quiet knock at the door, before an important looking lady with a clipboard came in.

“Less, sorry but we need to know if you’re going to play the second half or not?” she asked.

As your Aunties turned toward the door, they realised that you were awake.

“Oh Bunny, sweetie, you’re awake.  How are you feeling?” your Aunty Lessi rushed over to you, her hands coming down to gently cradle the sides of your head.

You looked up at her a bit stunned, rather confused about why you were where you were and why everyone seemed so upset.

“Does your head hurt?  Do you feel sick or dizzy at all?” she asked, her hand softly brushing through your hair.

You tried to think about if you felt sick or dizzy, but all you could really feel was a powerful throbbing rattling through your head.  You also felt really, really tired.  But you had just woken up, so that could perhaps explain that.  You don’t remember going to sleep though, which was starting to concern you.

“I feel okay,” you replied, trying to brush away your Aunty’s concern.

“Alessia, sorry, we need t-” the lady at the door began to ask again.

“I won’t be playing, sorry.  My family is more important right now,” Aunty Lessi told her.

“Less, you should go play.  I’ll stay with Bunny and make sure she’s-”

Your Aunty Lessi whipped around to face Aunty Leah. “No, Leah.  I’m not leaving her.  She’s hurt.   We’ll get a car to take us back to the training centre so we can go home early,” she insisted firmly.

Aunty Leah replied with a sad smile and a nod.  “I’ll go get our stuff packed up then, yeah?”

“I’m okay Aunty Lessi, you should play!” you tried to insist.

“No Bunny, there would be no point in me playing anyways.  I would be so distracted out there and worrying about you I would probably kick the ball into the wrong goal by mistake.”

By the time you finally got back home that night, your head was still pounding and you were struggling to stay awake.  You were trying your hardest to be big and brave and pretend like you were okay, but as soon as you stepped into bath, your whole fa��ade fell apart.  As the warm water lapped at your tense muscles, which you now realised you’d been clenching in an effort to distract from the pain in your head, your resolve melted and you began to weep.

You brought your knees up to your chest and dropped your head forward, your hands entwining at the back of your head as your little body shook with each sob.  The tears and jagged breaths only intensified the pain in your head though, which in turn caused more tears and jagged breaths.  You tried your hardest to stay as quiet as possible, but you were aware that your cries were becoming increasingly vocal.

There was soon a soft knock at the door, followed by your Aunty Lessi’s voice.  Whilst making sure you still got clean and dressed, your Aunties had always tried to give you your privacy while bathing and dressing, which you appreciated.  They were your Aunties, but it still felt weird being undressed around people who weren’t your parents.

“Bunny?  Are you okay?” she called through the closed door.

“It hurts” you cried in response.

“What hurts honey?”

“Everything.  My head hurts most.”

“How about we give you some medicine to make it hurt less, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And then we can get you to bed, and you can try and get some rest, alright?”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.  You’d assumed your Aunty had gone away to get the medicine, but then you heard her voice again.

“Bun, you don’t always have to try and be big and brave y’know?  If you’re hurting, you can tell us.  Always.  I promise you won’t be in trouble or we won’t make fun of you or anything.  We just want you to feel okay.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t fully believe her.  You wanted to, but a part of you still believed that there was only so much love and affection to go around and you needed to space that out at least until Lemonade arrived.  You didn’t want to use it all up on this incident.

So you tried your hardest to push the pain down and away as you quickly washed yourself.  You managed to get yourself up and out of the bath and wrapped in a towel before there was a knock at the door again.

“You can come in,” you mumbled, making sure the towel was secured tightly under your arms.

Your Aunty Lessi entered with a little cup filled with pink medicine and a cup of water.  She kneeled down to your height as she offered it to you.

“Now it says strawberry flavoured on the bottle, so hopefully it won’t taste too bad.”

You gingerly took the cup and gulped the medicine down, wincing at the distinctly fake strawberry taste.  You quickly grabbed the cup of water from your Aunty’s other hand and skulled that down to wash away the lingering flavour.

“Good job, Bun.  Now let’s get you into your PJ’s and into bed, yeah?”

By the time you were under the covers, arms tightly wrapped around your beloved Arthur, the pain in your head had dulled to only a mild ache.

“Goodnight sweet girl” your Aunty Lessi whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Night Aunty Lessi” you mumbled back.

It was the first time you slept through the night without waking up to a nightmare since the fire.

--

You woke up to the smell of Aunty Lessi’s lasagne wafting through the house.  However, as you opened your eyes and came to your senses, you immediately panicked. 

You were not in your own bed. 

You were in your Aunties bed.

You had no idea how you’d come to be in their bed.  The last thing you remembered you were lying on the floor in the loungeroom studying one of the books the Arsenal girls had given you about football.  You were trying to understand where all the different positions were on the pitch and what responsibilities each position had.  You had been figuring out the difference between a centre-back and a full-back when you had… fallen asleep.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Whilst it had been a few days now since your accident and you’d had a couple of days off school and your head no longer hurt, you were still feeling extra extra tired from your concussion.  You’d spent most of that day at school trying to hide your yawns from your teacher and classmates.  When you’d been given some free time after finishing one of your activities ahead of the rest of the class, the same group of students that always seemed to catch you at your weakest had caught you dozing off in the corner of the room where you’d been reading.  They’d tied your shoelaces together and were starting to draw on your arm when you woke up.  You hadn’t realised they’d also put rolled up pieces of paper in your hair braid until your Aunty Leah pointed them out when she picked you up.

You’d tried to brush it off and said it was just a game all the kids were playing with each other, but the concerned frown your Aunty gave you implied she didn’t quite believe your lie.

“You know you can tell us if there’s anything going wrong at school, yeah?  If anyone’s picking on you or calling you names or anything?”

You just nodded.  There was no way you would ever tell your Aunties what was really happening at school.  You would just deal with it like a big girl.  Push through.  Be brave.  They had bigger things to worry about than some kids putting paper in your hair and saying mean things.  Your Aunty Leah was growing a human AND mending her busted knee for heaven’s sake!  You could deal with some silly paper in your hair.

When you’d got back to the house, you went straight to your room to undo your braid and pluck all the little pieces of paper from your hair.  You’d counted them (23 in total) before scrunching them up and throwing them in the little wastepaper basket beside your desk. 

As the paper hit the basket, a tiny ball of raging heat began bubbling in your chest.  You didn’t know what to do with it or how to describe it, but it made you want to stomp your feet and hit a wall and scratch at your skin.  You’d never been the best at describing emotions, but you were pretty certain this wasn’t sadness.  Perhaps, this was anger? Frustration? Disappointment? 

The tiny ball continued to bubble and grow as you lunged for your bed where Arthur lay.  You attempted desperately to use your tried and tested method of rubbing his ear against your cheek to calm the feeling, and whilst it felt nice, it did nothing to soothe your need to stomp or hit or scratch.

You searched your room urgently for something else to ease the searing heat in your chest, even gulping down the remnants of a cup of water on your bedside table.  But nothing worked.  You needed to stomp or hit or scratch.  You knew couldn’t stomp your feet or hit a wall, because that would be loud, and your Aunty would hear and come ask what was wrong.  So, you decided to scratch. 

You had to pick somewhere not too visible so that if you left a mark, nobody would see and ask what happened.  So, you tugged up the hem of your school dress and pushed down your tights and began scratching at the skin at the top of your right thigh.

The relief was instant. 

The second your nails dug into your flesh, the little ball of heat in your chest began to cool.  You scratched and scratched, and scratched some more until it finally, finally disappeared.  By the time you eventually stopped, your skin was stinging, and your fingers were cramping.  But the little ball of heat was gone, and that was all that mattered.

There was a gentle knock on the door as you speedily pulled your tights back up, wincing as they brushed against your newly tender skin.

Your Aunty Leah popped her head in through the door, “Bun, do you want a snack? I got some blueberry muffins from the bakery…”

“Oh… um, yeah, I’ll be right down, just getting that paper out of my hair,” you mumbled, quickly running your fingers through the ends of your messy blonde mane.

“Alright, I’ll pop them in the microwave to warm them up,” she replied before heading back downstairs to do so.

As you heard her footsteps fade away, you turned around and pulled your tights down again, trying with all your might not to release a pained noise as the fabric ripped away from your newly raw skin.  The area you’d scratched was an angry red colour and the skin seemed wet, but there was no blood, which whilst a relief, made no sense to you.

Not wanting to keep your Aunty waiting, you hastily pulled your tights the rest of the way off and threw them in your laundry hamper.  The house was warm enough, but you decided to grab your soft little blanket that had purple and grey clouds, as well as the book on football you had been reading and the little notebook you’d been making notes in (and Arthur of course), and head downstairs.

“Perfect timing Bun, just took them out of the microwave.  Do you want a drink?”

“I’m okay.  Thank you, Aunty Leah, this looks lovely” you replied, climbing up onto a stool in front of the kitchen bench where a little plate with a yummy looking blueberry muffin sat.

“Well, we all know the kitchen is Aunty Lessi’s domain.  That woman can cook like a dream!  But I’m not too shabby at picking out a good pastry.  I guess you could say bread and bread-adjacent foods are my domain,” she teased.

You giggled as you tucked into your muffin, appreciating your Aunty Leah’s silly jokes about how bad at cooking she was and how limited the range of foods she ate was.  Your extended family often seemed to tease her a bit about being a picky eater and she would usually laugh it off or join in on the joke.  But you knew it was something she was actually a bit self-conscious about. 

A few days into your stay here you’d gone to the fridge to grab some milk for your cereal and had accidentally knocked a container off a shelf.  As you bent down to pick it up, you noticed a little letter stuck to the lid that read “Leah, my love, it’s okay if you can’t eat this.  I know you tried and I’m proud of you.  Please just make sure you eat something or at least have a protein smoothie.  For you and for ‘L’.  Love you – xx Less.”  You’d immediately felt guilty for reading it as you rushed to put it back on the shelf, knowing you’d intruded on a bit of your Auntie’s privacy.  You’d seen a few similar little notes stuck to containers since then.  At the time you’d been very confused about what “for you and for ‘L’” meant, but you had since figured out it meant ‘for you and for Lemonade’. 

When you finished your muffin, you wriggled off the stool and headed over to place your plate in the dishwasher.

“Are you done with your plate too, Aunty Leah?” you offered.

“Oh, thanks sweetie, you didn’t have to do that,” she replied as she passed you her plate with a smile.  “Feel free to watch something on the telly if you want.  I’ve got a bit of boring adult housework stuff to catch up on before Aunty Lessi gets home.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” you asked.

“No, no.  I’ve just got to do a couple of loads of laundry and there’s no way I would make you deal with Aunty Lessi’s gross smelly training socks!  It’s bad enough poor little Lemonade is stuck with me and can’t escape from it,” she laughed, jokingly shielding her belly from the smell.

“Is it okay if I just read in the loungeroom?” you asked.

“Of course it is!  Just remember if your head starts to hurt or you’re feeling too tired or anything, to have a rest, yeah?” she smiled at you, stroking her fingers affectionately through your hair.

“I will, thank you.”

So, you made yourself comfortable in a little spot on the loungeroom floor, surrounded by a couple of cushions, the blanket you’d brought down from your room and, of course, Arthur.  Soon you were laying on your belly, nose deep in the book and jotting down notes in your notebook all about what a penalty shootout was and what circumstances led to one.  You drew a little picture of the goal and the line markings and where the goalie had to stand and where the other players had to stand, before turning back to the book to read about in-game penalties when slowly but suddenly you… were… asleep.

The next thing you knew you were waking up in your Auntie’s bed to the smell of your Aunty Lessi’s lasagna.

The realisation hit you like a hundred bolts of lightning.

You’d slept in someone else bed.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Bad things happen when you sleep in someone else’s bed.

The last time you’d slept in someone else’s bed, your house burned down, and your Mummy and Daddy had died.

You jumped out of the bed as though it was burning you, panic rattling all through your little body.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your right hand began hitting at the side of your head before you even knew it was happening.

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

Your other hand clawed at the skin of your neck, scratching determinedly at the tender skin there.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

You tried so hard to stop them, but your feet began to stomp loudly, your whole body seemingly moving with a mind of its own.  Everything around you seemed like it was spinning.  You thought you could smell smoke and when your eyes began to water you weren’t sure if it was because you were crying or if it was because there was actually smoke. 

You vaguely heard a commotion and saw the door swing open, but everything around you continued to spin making you feel like throwing up.  You couldn’t throw up in your Auntie’s bedroom!

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

“Bunny?  Sweetie, what’s going on?”

You could hear your Aunty Lessi’s voice and feel her presence, but the only word you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

The word kept falling from your lips and you continued to stomp and hit and scratch.

“Okay, Bun.  I’m going pick you up so you stop hurting yourself sweetie.  I need to make you nice and safe, alright?”

Again, you heard your Aunty but all you could think was ‘BAD’.

“Bad! Bad! Bad!”

Carefully you felt your Aunty wrap her arms around you, trapping your arms and lifting you off the ground.  You struggled as your body fought to keep hitting and scratching and stomping, but she gently tugged your hands away from your neck and head, tucking them tightly against her chest.

“You’re okay, lovely.  You’re safe, I promise.  It’s just you, me and Aunty Leah here okay.  Nothing bad is going to happen alright?  We’re safe.  You’re safe.  Everything’s okay…”

“Bad. Bad. Bad.”

“What do you mean by bad, Bun?” Aunty Lessi asked.

You shook your head, unable to explain yourself.  All you could say was “bad.”

“Oh sweetie, you haven’t done anything bad.  You’re not in any kind of trouble.  I promise.  And nothing bad is going to happen either, okay?” she whispered.

You began to slowly unclench in her arms, comforted by the soothing way she was swaying gently.  Eventually you opened your eyes to see your Aunty Leah standing in the doorway watching on, her face red and blotchy as though she’d been crying.

You immediately came back into your body, realising whatever you’d just done had upset your Aunty Leah.  You tried to wriggle slightly to free yourself from your Aunty Lessi’s grip, but she tightened her hold.

“Not yet sweetie.  I need to what’s going on?  What happened?” she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.  I didn’t mean to be bad and upset Aunty Leah.  I’m so sorry.  I promise I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“Darling, you didn’t upset me” your Aunty Leah assured you as she came over to sit next to Aunty Lessi on the bed.

“But your face is blotchy like you’ve been crying” you replied, your Aunty Lessi finally loosening her grip on her as your reached toward Aunty Leah.

“Well, it’s because I have been, but it’s not because you upset me.  I’m just worried about you is all.  Why were you hurting yourself?” she asked, taking your hand in hers.

“I just had to.  I don’t know.  I just did.  I was bad.”  You jumped off Aunty Lessi’s lap and started pacing on the floor in front of her and Aunty Leah.   “I woke up in this bed and I had no idea why I was in your bed and all I could think was ‘bad’ and I just did it without realising.”

“I washed your sheets and they’re in the dryer.  So, when you fell asleep on the loungeroom floor, I just put you in here for your nap.  I didn’t mean for it to upset you so much, sweetie,” Aunty Leah explained, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

“You didn’t upset me, I just I don’t want you and Aunty Lessi and Lemonade to die too!”

You heard your Aunties gasp at your explanation, but you just kept pacing, trying to figure out a way to stop the inevitable from happening.

“Bunny, oh my goodness, why would Aunty Leah and Lemonade and I die because you had a nap in our bed?”

“Because that’s what happened when I slept in Mummy and Daddy’s bed!”

You watched as your Aunties exchanged a series of looks.  The seemed confused and shocked, which was confusing and shocking to you, because it all seemed so obvious.

“Darling, your Mummy and Daddy didn’t die because you slept in their bed,” Aunty Leah tried to tell you.

“Yes, they did!  They did.  They DID!  I know they did!  It’s the only thing different I did that night from all the other nights.  I had done so so good all summer getting into my big girl routine and kept it up really well for the first couple of weeks of school.  But then… then I slipped up, and I was bad and I asked to sleep in bed with Mummy and Daddy that night.  And and th- the fire happened.  And if I had of been in my own room, I could have got myself out.  Because we’d practiced.  Daddy made sure we practiced.  And and and then… then Da-Daddy wouldn’t have needed to get me out and he could have helped Mummy because of her leg.  And they could have got out too.  But I was bad.  I slept in a bed that wasn’t mine.  When I should have just slept in my own bed, like a good girl.  Like a big girl.  And now they’re dead.  They’re both dead.  And it’s my fault.  And now what if you die too!?”

[multifandomgirl08]

Caught [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Established Relationship), Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris (Platonic)

Summary: Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

Warning(s): 18+ Implied sexual content, accidental?? voyeurism (Lando)

A/N: Little deviation from the normal chapter for this series as there is no Nico. This is an out-take that I just couldn’t hold onto any longer. It does have a bit of adult content, and although this series didn't have any before it was fun to work out of my comfort zone for this while helping me cure my writer's block.

This is a scene I reference in the third social media post in Through Max's Eyes. You get to finally read what happened in Barcelona 2023 with Lando, Max, and the reader.

Words: 2.1k

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Lando

After the disappointing race today Lando needed to get out of his head a bit. He had suggested to a few of the drivers about going out to a club to get drinks and blow off some steam.

He heard back from almost everyone except Max, who wasn't replying in the grid group chat. He knew that Max was probably on the phone with Y/N or talking to his son Nico after the race.

He didn't really understand how Max could manage his son, girlfriend, and career all at once.

He had asked Daniel which was Max's room number at the hotel they were all staying at. Daniel had texted him back, 331.

Lando was making his way down the hallway as the numbers kept going up.

300 - 320, on one sign 321 - 340 on another.

He followed the hallway down until he got to 330. Then on the opposite side was 331, the door was cracked open a bit, maybe Max forgot to close it all the way when he had come up after the race.

He knocked, waiting a moment, and knocked again a little louder but heard nothing back. Maybe Max was playing FIFA or had headphones on and wasn't paying attention to the door.

Lando pushed the hotel door open to walk into the room.

"Max?" He asked, his eyes scanning the room before he heard a breathy moan come from behind the open set of double doors.

This should have been Lando's cue to leave Max's hotel room and make sure to close the door behind him. But his feet pushed him on towards the sound. Maybe Max was watching a movie or something, or on the phone with Y/N. There were lots of possibilities.

He walked closer before his eyes met the empty bed. It was as if his ears had finally picked up on the sounds in the room. There was the sound of someone moaning again.

His eyes fell to the floor, shoes discarded, navy team polo by the chair in the corner, a pile of black fabric kicked off to the side. He shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the bedroom.

Lando's eyes started their ascension at the carpeted floor, scanning upwards. Black high heels and bare feet, large hands reached down to pick the girl up, before she settled her legs around the guy's waist. He could barely make out that this guy had his jeans undone. A black bra strap fell off her shoulder and started to expose her to him.

"Zo goed voor mij." He heard in Max's voice but deeper in tone. It was barely above a whisper hearing the guy tell her how good she was for him.

"Max," Lando's ears had never heard you sound like this before. Yearning, desperate. He saw what he knew were your hands moving up a broad back before a hand dropped to the band of blue denim jeans trying to push them down.

“Zo wanhopig voor mij.” There was the voice again, his understanding of Dutch catching up with him again calling her desperate, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know for what.

Being in the room watching made sights and sounds seem like two different things that blended into one another.

He watched as the guy leaned down a little kissing to tops of the woman’s breasts, he seemed to stay there for a few moments, possibly lapping at the skin with his tongue.

“Ahh.” He heard from the girl, seeing her throw her head back towards the wall. The man pulled away, reaching up to kiss the woman again.

His eyes eventually followed a delicate hand up to short brown hair, seeing a stubble-peppered cheek drop out of his view. Causing the woman to move to the right, covering both of their faces from his view. As the man pulled away from the woman and looked to his right, lips swollen and chest heaving for air.

Lando met the eyes of Max as if it fully dawned on him who he had been watching.

His eyes jumped up the wall and then back, to see Max standing there in his unbuttoned skinny-jeans, and Y/N, against the wall in nothing but heels, and her underwear with her bra straps falling down her shoulders, with her legs around Max’s waist.

"Lando?" He heard from Max, their eyes meeting for a millisecond, blue on hazel.

Lando bolted out of there, leaving his question and the ability to look Y/N in the eyes behind him. He pulled the handle of the door along with him, the loud bang made his ears ring for a few moments.

Lando rushed down the corridor, room after room not paying attention to where he was walking as he kept shaking his head at what he had just witnessed.

“Hello Lando,” He heard from Pierre and saw him standing there with Daniel.

“Lando,” Daniel said, “You okay mate?”

Lando just shook his head no again, looking down at the horrible pattern on the carpeted floor. He couldn’t tell Daniel or Pierre what he had walked into, they would never let him live it down.

“It cannot be that bad.” He heard from Pierre.

“It’s pretty bad.” He moved to lean against the wall, knocking his head into it.

“Come on, Lando.” Daniel started to say, pulling him away from the wall.

“Okay, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone else, not Charles,” He said to Pierre, “And not to Martin.” Lando pointed at Daniel. He knew that Max was close friends with Martin, and he didn’t want Martin to know that he had walked in on Max sleeping with Y/N. He didn’t think he could deal with the teasing.

They both nodded back at him. Yeah right.

“Have either of you ever walked in on your parents… you know…” He kept trailing off. He couldn’t say going at it. It felt wrong.

Pierre looked at him for a moment, and Daniel said nothing before Lando saw the recognition fill both of their faces.

“Oh, Lando did you walk in on your parents growing up or something?” Pierre teased at him.

“No!” He objected. “Not my parents…” He took his time getting the words out.

Time to break down the story in full detail.

“I went to see if Max wanted to go get drinks at the club after the race. I walked to his room to see if he was going to go, and the door was open a bit. I knocked, but no one answered, so I went in. I saw…” He trailed off. “I saw Max and Y/N going at it.”

“Lando, Y/N isn’t here. Isn’t she in New York for some work conference or something?” Daniel said. He moved to pull out his phone as if he was going to text Max and ask.

Lando reached for it to stop him.

“It was Y/N, I swear it was.” This whole thing just rubbed Lando the wrong way. Max was his friend, and Y/N was Max’s girlfriend. Lando knew that Max had sex before given that he had a kid, he just never thought he would see Max actually about to do it for himself one day.

“It’s fine, we believe you, that it was Y/N.”

“Lando.” He heard coming from down the hall. There stood Max in dark wash jeans, and a white button-up shirt, and holding his hand was Y/N in a black dress that cut off at her thighs.

Shit! Eyes to the floor, eyes to the fucking floor man.

“Lando,” He heard from Y/N. Her voice was almost motherly in tone. It just made an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” He blurted out, hanging his head. “I didn’t mean to see. It was an accident, I swear.”

He couldn’t look at either of them. Sure, Max was only older than him by two years, and Y/N was right around the same age as far as he could guess, not that he actually knew how old she was.

“It’s fine Lando, I’m sure you didn’t mean to see me and Max-” Y/N started to say.

“Going at it like rabbits,” Daniel interjected behind them.

“What are you talking about Daniel? We still had clothes on.” Max stated. Lando knew that was half a lie. Max had clothes on, and Y/N was pretty close to having nothing on. Lando couldn’t help but think back for a moment to the image that flashed across his mind, it was oddly erotic and would have been hot if he didn’t think of Y/N as a type of mother figure in his life.

“Yo, Einstein. You can’t detail a car with the cover on,” Daniel quotes to the group. Lando looked up just slightly, enough to see Pierre who looked confused.

“What do you mean, can’t detail a car?” Max asked. “I was kissing my girlfriend, Daniel, I wasn’t thinking about a car.”

“Really? The first Fast and the Furious movie. I’m disappointed in all of you.” Lando could see the happy expression fall from Daniel’s face. If it were any other time, and anything else was going on Lando would have remembered what Daniel was quoting, but as of right now he was a little too mortified to do so.

“Whatever,” Lando said, turning to Max and Y/N but didn’t make an effort to meet their eyes. “I’m sorry I walked in without making myself known. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine Lando,” Y/N said to him. “I’ll just make sure the next time I try to surprise Max; I’ll tell someone first.”

“I like your surprises,” Max said, giving her a wide, eye-crinkling smile. He pulled her into him, and Lando dropped his eyes to the floor once again. Too soon.

“So… Drinks? Bar?” Daniel asked. Pierre nodded, and Lando followed quickly after. Max and Y/N however said nothing. The sounds of kissing quickly became audible to his ears.

“Max, mate.” Daniel started to say. “Maybe keep the necking in public to a min. We’ve got young eyes here.” Lando could feel Daniel’s hand on his shoulder after he said that. He knew that Daniel was just teasing him a bit, but he still didn’t like it.

“I’m not that young.” He fired back at Daniel.

“Uh yeah, you are, if you caught these two about to go at it and ran away.” Lando couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was never going to be able to live this down, was he?

“Have you?” Pierre asked as they walked down the hall towards the elevators leaving the couple behind.

“Have I what?” Daniel asked. Lando barely looked up to see Max and Y/N walking further down the hall in the opposite direction back towards Max’s room with a short wave given to all of them.

“Caught them, about to…” Lando trailed off again, he still couldn’t say it.

“Let’s just put it this way, when they want a date night. I’m the first person that they call.” 

Sometimes Lando forgot how close Max and Daniel were. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my godson but sometimes Max needs to learn to call in advance instead of the day of.”

“So, you haven’t caught them then?” Lando couldn’t help but ask. Them wanting date night together was one thing, but that wasn’t what Pierre had asked.

“No, I have.” It almost sounded like there was a bit of mischief in Daniel’s voice. “Trust me mate, you were lucky that you walked in when you did because if it was after that, you would have been scarred for life.”

Lando widened his eyes at that. So, Daniel was keeping all of the truly gory details to himself. He knew more, so much more, and maybe he promised Max that he wouldn’t tell anyone what they truly got up to in their spare time.

“Was Max running his mouth?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, back to Daniel.

“Like praising her, in Dutch?” He couldn’t help but nod at Daniel’s question. He was a little curious if he could get more information out of him.

“A bit.” He choked out.

“Good on ya, that you didn’t stick around.” Daniel slapped the back of Lando’s shoulder. “Come on, once we’re down at the bar, I’ll get you a drink. You need it after all you’ve gone through today.”

Lando tried not to think further about what he just heard. Obviously at some point in time Daniel had walked in on Max and Y/N and had a very different reaction then him.

He followed Daniel and Pierre down to the bar, letting Daniel order him something strong that would hopefully make the last 6 hours or so disappear, at least for a while.

Translation(s):

Zo goed voor mij. - So good for me.

Zo wanhopig voor mij. - So desperate for more.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: SMUT, the forbidden quickie

Chapter Word Count: 3548

—-MDNI—-

A/N: ahhhhhhhh I finally wrote some spice! Sorry it took a while. This is a little tame I guess but we can work up to the extra lewd stuff

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 6

The following day rolled around quickly and before we knew it there was only an hour remaining until the auction house charity event. The disturbing events of yesterday were pushed to the back of my mind, the boys respecting my wishes on not wanting to talk about it. Sam told us over breakfast that he’d managed to access the auction house database and add our names to the guest list for the party, making it easy for us to attend without getting caught out as uninvited visitors. Now back in my room, I was rummaging through my duffel and pulling out my evening attire: a long black dress made of soft satin that had a slit up to the hip on one side. The neckline was a deep v-plunge and the dress was entirely backless.

“I guess no bra for me tonight then,” I mumbled to myself, also pulling out a clean pair of black lace panties and a pair of closed toe, VERY high black satin heels that had a neat little buckle on the ankle strap. I was already showered and my makeup was already done so I dropped my towel and slipped into the dress, pulling the thin straps over my shoulders. I followed by pulling on my panties, stretching the lace over my hips so it wasn’t visible through the slit in the dress. If you didn’t know any better, it would look like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. I sat on the edge of the bed and put on the heels, securing them in place before standing up and doing a few practice laps of the room - wearing shoes this high was not a common occurrence for me. I finished up by dusting my skin with the same perfume I wore yesterday, breathing in the pleasant smell before tucking the bottle along with my rouge lipstick into my little black clutch. I fussed over myself in the mirror for a few minutes when I heard a knock at the door. Pacing over I flung it open to greet the Winchester boys, and when I did I couldn’t help but do a double take over the oldest brother. I hated to admit it but he looked good. REALLY good. He was dressed head to toe in black: a slim fitted suit, shirt and tie, all of which seemed to flick something on in my brain. His suit jacket hung open and beneath it the shirt was clinging to his well defined torso, the top two buttons straining a little.

“You scrub up well, Dean,” I said to him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised. Instead, I think I sounded incredibly flirtatious. Dean didn’t seem to notice though as I watched his jaw slacken and his eyes flit over my body.

“Uhhh-um yeah, thanks,” he said, clearing his throat a little as he stepped aside to let me out.

“You look great, (Y/n),” Sam said, making such intense eye contact with me like he didn’t know where else to look, his cheeks glowing a little.

“Thanks Sam,” I smiled up at him before locking the motel room door and trying to ignore the fact that Dean didn’t say anything. Back to being an ass I see.

“So (Y/n), you’re with Dean. It should be pretty simple: get in, get the hair pain, get out. With that many people at the event, we don’t want to risk anyone getting hurt so I'll be ready and waiting outside with everything we need to destroy it and put the ghost to rest,” Sam briefed us before carrying on, “I’ll head back to our room to get everything and I’ll meet you there - you guys get going,” he nodded his head to Deans car which was parked out front. Dean said a quick farewell and headed out and I did the same, giving Sam a wave as he turned to leave.

I climbed into the front of the Impala, running my hands over the plush leather seat.

“You really do have great taste in cars Dean,” I said, looking around at the immaculate interior. He hummed in agreement, putting his arm over the back of my seat as he reversed out of the parking spot. Those top two buttons on his shirt were not going to last all night. I crossed my legs, getting comfortable for the short journey into town - the satin of my dress falling open and completely exposing my thigh to Dean. I watched him take his eyes off the road and fixate on my bare skin, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. Returning his eyes to the road I saw his chest rise as he took a deep breath, a small but deep groan emitting from his chest.

“You ok?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” he rasped.

“Ok… you’re acting strange though,” I said, leaning on the passenger side door to watch the street lamps turn on.

“Can you blame me?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

There was a few seconds of silence before he flicked on his cassette player and classic rock filled the car, bringing a smile to my ruby lips.

“Good taste in music too? I’ll be damned, you’ve got more of a personality than I thought.”

He scoffed a little before smirking, “there’s more to me than meets the eye sweetheart.” He looked over at me, green eyes piercing into mine with such intensity I suddenly felt a little warm. I looked away, quickly counting my lucky stars when I noticed we’d arrived.

Dean parked up and I reached for the door, however Dean stopped me from opening it.

“Wait,” his tone was authoritative as he reached a hand out to stop me, his rough fingers lightly grazing the soft skin of my thigh. Before I could even respond, he’d hopped out, slamming his door shut before striding around the front of the car to open mine for me. He held his hand out, which I grasped delicately and he pulled me to my feet.

“What was that for?” I asked, puzzled as he closed the passenger side door behind me.

“Just trying to keep up appearances for this shit-show,” he stated bluntly before he walked off ahead of me towards the front door whilst he left me to navigate the uneven cobbles in these death-trap shoes.

“Jerk,” I muttered under my breath, but he must’ve heard me because he turned around, sighed and held out his arm for me to take.

“Just ask if you need help,” he leaned in and said quietly, his face close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. I sucked in a breath, which was a mistake as he smelt positively divine. He was filling my senses and I didn’t want him to.

We made it into the building with no trouble at all thanks to Sam’s hard work. The inside of the auction house was a grand spectacle indeed; with high ceilings, a chandelier made up of thousands of tiny pieces of crystal and two symmetrical mahogany staircases at the end of the entrance hall. It was busy, lots of people in expensive attire milling about and drinking equally expensive sparkly wine.

“Shall we get some champagne?” I turned and asked Dean, who chuckled slightly.

“You’re already more fun than Sam,” he said before whisking two flute glasses off a passing waiter and handing me one. We chinked glasses, laughing a little at how awkward all of this pomp and ceremony was for us before we both downed the expensive alcohol like shots. Dean winced slightly, handing his now empty flute back to the same waiter who gave him a concerned look.

“Aw damn, those bubbles - that shits wrong.”

“That’s because you’re supposed to sip it,” I laughed at him, placing my empty glass on an old polished oak sideboard.

“Then why did you neck it too if you knew?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at me. I shrugged.

“To be honest I don’t know - I guess I wanted to lighten the old-money mood in here.” He nodded, seeming to understand where I was coming from. After that fiasco we made our way towards the immense curved staircases at the end of the room, Deans hand occasionally touching my exposed back as he guided me in front of him, making me shiver involuntarily. We ascended, making our way up and past people who were at the top of the stairs, idly chatting and leaning on the bannister - not paying us any mind as we turned down a quiet corridor. We walked quietly, the hum of chatting remaining behind us as we made our way down the dim corridor, looking out for the room number Sam had given us.

“Room 19, room 19, room 19…” I chanted to myself searching every door until we found the right one. Coming to a stop, Dean quickly knelt down and pulled a lockpick from his pocket. I watched in fascination as he inserted the device, ever so gently manoeuvring it with a look of pure concentration on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at him whilst he was unaware; looking at those focused and hooded dark green eyes, slightly parted lips that he wet with his tongue and large muscled shoulders that were almost as wide as the doorway. I didn’t want to admit it, but God damn he was attractive. There was a click and he stood up quickly, pocketing the lockpick and opening the door, hurrying me inside. I walked gingerly into the room which looked like a mixture between a study and a museum. There were large bookcases spanning the walls, sideboards boasting an array of intriguing items, all contained in secure glass cabinets, and finally a large leather-topped mahogany desk in the centre of the room. This place smelt old.

I heard Dean close the door behind him as he paced in after me, immediately scanning the room.

“Right,” he said, his tone stern and authoritative, “you take that side and I’ll take this side.” I nodded, immediately scouring every surface for our haunted item.

We must’ve been looking for around ten minutes when Dean called me over.

“Do you think that’s it?” He almost whispered, pointing to an item that I would definitely have described as a jade hairpin.

“Yup,” I whispered back, leaning slightly closer to him so I could get a better look. I felt him draw a sharp breath in before sighing slightly. “Can you pick this lock?” I asked, ignoring his antics and sticking to the business at hand.

“Yeah give me a second and I’ll get it open,” he stepped in front of me. Not wanting to get in his way, I walked into the centre of the room to where the desk was and leant against it, looking around at all of the bizarre items. Surely there are some other haunted things in here other than what we came for. My eyes eventually landed on an old gramophone.

“Oh that bitch is definitely haunted,” I mumbled to myself right as I heard Dean pop the lock on the glass cabinet. I watched as he wrapped the hairpin in a square of fabric before shoving it into his pocket and clicking the cabinet closed.

“Mission complete,” he said, a slight grin on his lips as he walked to stand in front of me. That grin fell from his face though when suddenly there were voices outside the door and keys rattling in the lock. We hadn’t planned for this. He looked at me in a panic.

“Kiss me,” I blurted.

“What?”

“I have a plan: Dean just fucking kiss m-” it was like I didn’t have to tell him twice before he had a hand in my hair and his lips were on mine. My heart started pounding and his mouth was hot against my cool skin. I hummed, sliding my fingers up his chest to grip the lapels on his jacket, pulling him further in towards me. Before I could get sucked into whatever it was that I was feeling, the study door flew open and two older gentlemen in brown tweed suits walked in, stopping in their tracks at the sight of us.

“Good heavens! What are you doing in here?” One of them exclaimed. Dean turned his head to look at the men, a smirk on his face and I couldn’t help but blush furiously at the sight of my lipstick that was now smeared on the corner of his lips.

“So sorry gentlemen, the door was unlocked so we just let ourselves in. I hope you don’t mind…” I watched, my eyes widening a little as he lifted his jacket slightly, showing the gun that was tucked into his belt. The men’s eyes also widened and they backed up towards the door.

“Yes, yes! Of course you did! Please, take your time. Just…” the man paused, his eyes darting to the precious items on his desk, “please try not to make a mess - it’s all I ask.” And with that they both left as quickly as they arrived, closing the door behind them. I let out a sigh of relief, looking up at Dean.

“Thank fuck… Dean I’m so sor-” I didn’t have a chance to think as Deans mouth was back on mine; rough and needy. I sat in shock for a second before being pulled back to reality when Dean held the side of my face, his fingers sliding up to tangle with my hair. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him back, my mind racing and going blank simultaneously. His free hand ghosted up my exposed leg, touching so gently I could barely feel him. He soon decided though that gentle wasn’t working for him, and he gripped my thigh, his fingers digging into my soft flesh and making me gasp - his hands on my body were already working their magic as I couldn’t stop his name from leaving my lips.

“Dean…” I moaned. I can’t believe it - I had actually moaned his fucking name. He groaned into my mouth, obviously liking the sound of his name rolling off my tongue. Tearing his hand from my hair and gripping my other thigh, without warning and with rushed movements, he lifted me with ease so I was sat atop the desk.

“Wrap your legs around me darlin,” he said with a deep lustful tone against my lips. I whimpered involuntarily as I did as he said. He pried his mouth from mine and started to kiss elsewhere; my cheek, behind my ear… my neck. I ran my hands over his shoulders and up the back of his neck, running my nails over his scalp and making him shiver. I gripped his hair and yanked, forcing his head up. I locked eyes with him, his eyes no longer that brilliant green but now blown and black with lust. My own eyes were probably no different. His gaze fluttered from my eyes to my lips, and before I let him kiss me again I leant forward and pressed my lips to his throat, my tongue on his skin. It was his turn to moan as I reached a hand down and traced a finger up the hard weapon growing in his pants. His large hands moving from my thighs to my ass, gripping tighter than ever before as I seemed to be pushing all the right buttons. He slid me to the edge of the desk so my lace-covered intimates were pressing right against him, friction and pleasure commencing. I pulled my lips from his throat before tugging his face down to mine, instigating the finale. I spoke breathlessly over his lips, already craving the taste of him again.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what, Winchester?”

Dean practically growled, frantically fumbling with moving my dress aside. He hooked a shaky but skilled finger into my underwear, trying to pull it aside but the elastic wouldn’t allow for it. I began to tremble as his digits kept ghosting over my most sensitive area. He soon gave up with his first plan, and his second plan made my eyes roll into the back of my head. Dean pulled a large hunting blade from inside his jacket and slid the flat side against my skin and up my thigh until it was under the lace fabric. The ice cold metal made me shiver before he swiftly sliced the blade up towards him, cutting my panties to shreds as he repeated the motion on the other side.

“Fuck that was hot,” I panted as he put the blade away and captured my lips again, running his tongue over mine. I gasped suddenly when he dipped a finger inside me, curling it and caressing that soft, sensual cushion that was hidden away. When I moaned, he added a second finger, leaning away from me slightly so he could see what a mess I was beneath him. After a few moments of utter bliss, he pulled his fingers out, sticking them straight in his mouth.

“You’re fucking delicious,” he groaned, standing up straight to shimmy out of his jacket. I leant forwards, grasping his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling down his zipper. Slowly I reached in and pulled him out of his boxers, his rock hard manhood hot and heavy in my palm. He closed his eyes as I ran my thumb over the tip, guiding my hand up and down, up and down, again and again until he grabbed my wrist.

“Let go so I can fuck you ‘til you can’t walk,” he practically growled, making me weak. I leant back on my palms, watching as he lined himself up and then disappeared inside me in one earth shattering motion. My eyes rolled back and my lips parted as I locked my ankles instinctively behind his back, my heels catching on the gun still tucked into his pants. He started to set a rhythm as he fucked me into the desk, the wooden structure sliding back with every thrust he made. He had both hands firmly planted on the desk beside me and I gripped his forearms tight, my head starting to spin from the overwhelming pleasure. It didn’t help that Deans head had dropped into the crook of my neck and his heavy breathing was like music to my ears. He kissed the skin there softly, drawing a moan from my lips with the sudden tenderness. The pounding was speeding up, and he suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist, desperately trying to get closer - to get deeper. The need for release was building and I’d lost control of my voice; Deans name tumbling from my lips like a prayer. I pressed his lips to mine feverishly, his breath ragged as he managed to pant out;

“Shit, (Y/n) I’m so close… I’m gonna need you to cum for me…”

I whimpered at the sound of my name on his breathless lips and he let go of my waist, placing his large palm on my stomach and sliding it down until his thumb connected with that bundle of nerves.

“Shit-Dean-,” whining against his mouth I started to feel the tension in the pit of my stomach build - the feeling of him pounding into me and stretching me more than ever before combined with his thumb on the magic button was a recipe for a quick release. And Dean knew that. He was fucking me so hard now that the sound of wet skin on skin echoed around the room and the banging of the desk could surely be heard from out in the corridor- maybe even downstairs. That knot was tightening, and tightening, and tightening until:

“Fuck- Dean I’m gonna cum!”

“Fuck,” was all he managed to groan before I shattered around him, that knot snapping and sending me into probably the best orgasm I’ve ever had. As I tensed up I pulled Dean over the edge with me and he buried his face into my neck, breathing heavily and cursing occasionally.

We stayed like that for a few moments, regaining some clarity and returning to earth. He took a few deep breaths before standing up and pulling out, tucking himself back into his pants and doing up his belt as his cum dripped down my thigh. He couldn't seem to look away, even when he reached for his jacket on the floor and put it back on.

“Stay there,” he said finally, disappearing behind some shelves for a second before returning with a box of tissues. He helped me clean myself up, tossing the tissues in the bin as we attempted to get rid of the evidence.

“Are you ok?” He asked sincerely, concern in his eyes as he offered me his hand. I smiled a little bashfully, placing my palm in his.

“I hate to admit it but I feel great.”

He helped me down off the table, placing a hand on my waist to help steady me on my still trembling legs. We both stood in a comfortable silence for a few moments before realisation hit us both and we looked at each other with wide eyes.

”Oh shit - Sam!”

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Up Next:

Chapter 7

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

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“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

 The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him. 

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines. 

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge. 

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where  you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?” 

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice. 

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning. 

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter. 

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent. 

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait. 

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring. 

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming. 

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair. 

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist. 

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze. 

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze. 

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own. 

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys. 

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den. 

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters. 

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire. 

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter. 

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands. 

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. “Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense. 

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet. 

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares. 

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast. 

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet. 

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them. 

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you. 

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that. 

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing. 

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found. 

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms. 

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.” 

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down. 

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided. 

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?” 

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you. 

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

 “I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.  

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind. 

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…” 

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

[thir10th]

The getaway pt.1 - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

ALL OF THESE CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONES

summary: you and Emily have been dating for several months now. When you finally get a free weekend, you decide to go on a little secret romantic getaway. tw: nothing yet, just fluff, a tiny bit of suggestive content but it's literally just a conversation, nothing else. secret relationship. a/n: you guys seemed to really like the idea so here it is! this first chapter so it's mostly to set the mood

Your leg shakes under the dinner table, waiting for Emily to finish up cooking dinner, her body swings around the kitchen, moving fluidly and confidently at the rhythm of the music she had chosen to play to set the abience.

You know she loves cooking, but you also know after getting home from a week-long case, this is the last thing she wants to do.

She always insists: "no baby, i'll cook, you can just sit there and look pretty, let me take care of it" and you loved her for that, but it hasn't been 12 hours yet since you had chased an unsub for three blocks.

She deserved a break. You both did. You had already decided that.

The pasta plate she sets in front of you with a big smile takes you out of your head, you smile back, it smells amazing, there's no doubt about it.

"I'm starving" she says, dropping on the seat in front of you, grabbing a fork and rolling up the spaghetti.

You move the pasta around, looking at her eat, trying to decide how to phrase it.

"what?" she asks mouth-fulled, noticing your stare.

"I wanted to ask you something" she leaves the fork, slurps up one last spaghetti hanging from her lips, and wipes her mouth with the napkin. Now you have her full attention.

"ugh, I'm... flattered, but-" she says in a sarcastic tone, but you cut her.

"relax, Em, I'm not asking you to marry me" she chuckles "i was thinking... you know how, if no case comes in tomorrow by five, we are having the whole weekend for ourselves, right?" you start.

"yeah, why?" she asks impatiently.

"well, I was talking to Penelope the other day, about how she had found this amazing hotel with Kevin, how they had had the best time, with activities for couples, good food, a big pool, you know, all that" she listens carefully at your words, without interrupting you, takes a sip of her wine, and nods, considering the idea.

"ok look" you grab your purse, taking a booklet you had printed out specifically for this conversation, hoping the images would convince her, you hand it to her so she can take a look.

She runs her eyes, scanning the photos on the booklet and reading over the information.

"it's been a long week, you deserve a break. We deserve a break" you conclude.

"Ooh- each room has a hot tub, and full time room service! and a steam room too?" she points out, looking at the pictures.

"And a balcony with views of the pool from every room! this could be it, Em, it's perfect for us." you add, after spending the whole trip back on the plane looking at their website, you had pretty much memorized it.

Emily angled her head to meet your eye. “If I have my way, you’ll be too occupied to appreciate the views.” the playfulness of her words making you smirk.

"So is that a yes?" you sigh in relief.

"Of course, sign me up!" a wide smile of excitement crosses her face, you let out a triumphant sound, shooting from your seat, walking up to her to grab her face and kiss her lips.

She grabs you by the waist and pulls you to sit onto her lap, your arms surround her neck, her grip tight on your hips to hold you in place.

"Oh, this is gonna be so nice! Think about it, no kids, all inclusive hotel for couples, no more hiding, nothing to worry about, just swim, and sex, and food" she grins at your words, her thumb traces slow circles on the skin left uncovered your shirt

"I could get used to that" she says kissing you again, this time longer, lovingly.

"honey?" she says, pulling away. "Yes?"

"You have already made the reservation, haven't you?" her profiling skills really never fail to amaze you.

"they had an excellent limited time offer, and i was pretty confident you were gonna say yes once I'd show you the booklet" you admit, and she chuckles, instead of getting upset, she just smiles at you and pecks your lips

"what have i done to deserve you?" she says, the dreamy sound of her words making you blush.

"well, dinner just now, and i believe i heard you say something about that balcony? with the views?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

She frowns at her computer, sitting on her desk, she has been staring at the screen for a considerable amount of time now, you quietly walk behind her.

"exciting, isn't it?" she doesn't hear you coming by, your words startle her making her jump in her seat

"you scared me" she mutters so no one can hear the conversation.

"sorry" you sit on her desk, right in front of her "i just thought if you're gonna spend the last fifteen minutes staring at the clock, we should do it together"

She tries to fight the smile that threatens to spread on her face, she bites her lip and gives you a loving look with her big doe eyes.

"you know, this room is full of profilers, if they saw you here in my desk only a couple of minutes far from five, they might suspect something is going on here"

"something like what? no one has even noticed i'm here, i seat on your desk everyday, nothing new" you say, her eyes leave the computer screen to look at you now.

"oh, i don't know, something like: we have been dating for three months and as soon as we leave this building we are driving two hours to spend our weekend on a hotel resort for couples?" she says sarcastically.

"i just thought it would be fun to watch when the clock strikes 5:00 together, you know, just like in new year's eve, but without the kissing for obvious reasons. Although there will be plenty of that this weekend" she bites her tongue at your words. Teasing Emily has always been so much fun for you, since it's usually the other way around that she teases you.

"the last thing i want you to remind me is how we are actively lying at the people we care most about" she argues, trying to keep her cool

"well, no need to worry about that anymore" you say, and when you both look at the screen, the clock has turned. 5:00 pm, no case has come in, we're free" you state. You stay there, sharing a moment, you stare at each other's eyes.

"god, but how i wish i could kiss you right now" she mutters breaking the silence, her eyes move down to look at your lips, and just for a moment you consider the possibility of sending it all to hell and kissing her senseless right then and there.

"y/n, any plans for the weekend?" Morgan's presence takes you by surprise, he comes behind you carrying is bag, so close, it had been so close, but you'd have to pull up with your coworker's teasing too.

"uhm, yeah, well, not much, no, just, a movie maybe, but who knows really?" you say, Emily tries hiding her grin, but fails.

"did you hear about Prentiss' weekend?" Morgan asks, you shoot a look at her

"ugh, no, big plans?" you say looking at her, lifting an eyebrow in faked confusion

"She, is going away with her girlfriend" he teases, a cocky smile on his lips.

"a girlfriend?! Prentiss! who is the lucky girl?" you say, a little louder than intended. She looks annoyed now that you're joining the teasing from you coworker.

"it's a secret, apparently" Morgan explains, Emily opens her mouth to speak, but only a defeated sound comes out.

"what? really?" you keep up the play, but she shoots you a look of warning, one eyebrow up, her arm on her hip.

"ok, you know what? I'm gonna leave now, you guys can speculate all you want" she takes her bag, and walks to the elevator, you and Derek follow her closely, she does her best to hide her smile.

"hey, I myself feel pretty offended that she won't tell us, after all we've been through, don't you think I deserve a little better?" he says, holding his hand to his chest, while you three wait for the elevator.

"Now, I'm having some ideas of what you deserve right now" the slightly threatening tone of her voice makes your heart throb. You just want to let her push you against that elevator door, let her do whatever she wants to you.

"you know what, I think I'm gonna keep it to myself, just this one time" she concludes, getting out of the elevator, Morgan whines, but she doesn't let it go.

"ok, this way for me" he says, turning right to go find his parking spot

"I'll walk with you" you tell Emily, the corners of your lips curving into a smile. You both say goodbye to Morgan, he leaves with one last "i hope you have a nice one, Prentiss!" and leaves.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Entering the room, you realize how more spacious and comfortable it is that you though, although you should've guessed, considering the fact that i could fit a hot tub on one corner, a full bathroom and the king-sized bed without making it feel narrow.

The hotel bellboy opens the room for you, hands you both of your keys, and leaves. Emily had already taken it upon herself to carry the bags, as they aren't all that heavy. Plus she loved doing those kinds of things for you, carrying your bags, the kind of things you would tease her about for being the chivalrous kid of girlfriend.

After all, you're only staying for a weekend, even if Emily didn't really understand that you don't actually need that many pairs of shoes for only just two nights total.

You look around everywhere, walk to the bathroom, the shower is perfectly big enough to fit you both, and two sinks. You check the hot tub, nd finish your tour by walking to the windows and opening the curtains.

The broad balcony has two chairs, and direct views to the pool, you're high enough to go completely unnoticed by anyone who looked up from it.

You drop to the big bed, star-fished out, meanwhile Emily leaves both your bags right next to the bed.

You sit up, standing to meet her as she looks around the room herself, appreciating the size of it.

"wow, this is almost bigger than my living room" she says, still surprised.

You walk up to her, grab her by the hips and pulling her to you "what do you think?" you ask, she surrounds your neck with her arms, and kisses you sweetly.

"mh, i love it" she purrs, a soft smile on her lips, and kisses you again, this time softer, longer, her lips soft and reassuring, making sure you knew how much she loved it.

"and I love you" she says, her hands running through your back now, "even if you just spent a considerable amount of time mocking me" she adds, and you chuckle.

"it was perfect, he doesn't suspect a thing!" you try to defend yourself, but she's already kissing your neck, finding your pulse point that she knows drives you crazy

"yeah but you didn't think i'd let you just get away with it just like that, mh?" she says, trapping your earlobe between her teeth and biting it softly.

"well, as much as you know i want this, we have to go down for dinner, because someone claimed she didn't need any directions to find the parking lot, and that took about, half an hour" you say teasingly, giving her a soft swat on her ass, unwrapping your arms off her waist to hold her hand.

Emily pouts at the loss of contact, interwining her fingers with yours "well, i found it didn't i? yes, it might have taken me a little longer than expected...."

"half an hour, Emily! We are gonna miss dinner, c'mon, and you can think about how to 'not let me get away with it' when we get back" you grab the room key, and pull her with you, walking out and heading to the elevator door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

okkk what are we thinking? this was an introduction more than anything, just to set the story.

Feedback here would be greatly appreciated, specially because if you guys have any ideas on how i should continue, or any specific scenarios, i'd be happy to try to add it!!

Like & reblog as always, I'll be publishing the next chapters as i write them so stay tuned for that <33

[mxchxelschmidt]

Hi! Hope ur doing well!🫶

Could you do something where he’s stressed out and snaps at yn but then he makes up for it?:)

Stressed Mike! Snapping at the reader. This ended up being 100% domestic fluff bullshit and I’m here for it honestly. Hope you enjoy anon! Hope you have a good night.

At this point you two didn’t even remember why the argument started. Well, Mike didn’t, you did. It had been an hour and a half and Abby was hopefully fast asleep in her room instead of pressed up against her door listening to you two bicker not unlike a married couple.

He was stressed about finances and the new clubs that Abby wanted to join and the money it would cost to have her in those clubs. You saw an opportunity to help so you told him that you would take care of it. He didn’t seem to like that option so he was fighting it with everything in him trying to keep you from making the decision to help out.

You two had been living together for some time now. You already helped with bills and rent which had been a weight off of Mike's shoulders so you didn’t understand why he was fighting this so hard.

“Mike, I can help out with this. I want her to be happy just as much as you do, and if getting her into these clubs will make her happy then so be it.” You say settling down on the couch hoping this would put an end to the argument.

He’s not budging though. He’s got that look on his face, that stubborn ass look where you know he isn’t going to give in or give up on his point.

“You’re not understanding. I have to take care of her. She’s my responsibility.” His words feel like venom and you’re not sure why it’s hurting you that he’s talking like this.

“Mike really, it’s not a big deal for me to help out and get her into those clubs, I care about both of you-“

He doesn’t bother listening to your justification and he spits out, “We aren’t a fucking charity case!”

And you feel your blood run cold as soon as the words leave his lip. It feels closer to a punch in the gut and you know he doesn’t mean it but at this moment it’s hard to see the other side. It’s hard to see why he feels the need to be so mean when all you want to do is help.

When you stand up from your place on the couch next to him you feel your blood boil. You didn’t want the conversation to end up like this but Mike crossed a line, one that you would never.

“I don’t see you as a charity case Mike and I don’t see Abby as one either. I hope deep down you truly know that.” If your anger is bad enough you just go calm. This is one of those times. You walk away and go to the kitchen to begin doing the dishes, anything to distract you from what he just said to you. Anything to help you calm down a little bit before you said anything you would regret. You would rather count backwards from ten than allow Mike to feel the way he just made you feel.

So you do the dishes, plain and simple, no passive aggressive loudness. Just doing the dishes normally until you’re done and the kitchen is cleaned up from dinner. You shut the light off in the kitchen and make your way to yours and Mike’s bedroom and you change out of your regular clothes, getting into pajamas. Mike doesn’t look up from his lap as you pass by him in the living room and you want to turn around and say something, anything to him, but you stop yourself. You grab your book off the bedside table and turn the lamp on to read a chapter before bed. You hope Mike is cooled off enough when he comes to bed to not try and continue the argument.

When you finally settle into bed to actually sleep, Mike hasn’t returned from the living room. You don’t make a point to go looking for him and you want him to have all the space he needs. You hope it’s enough to make him rethink what he said.

You want to sleep but it’s hard to when you’re fighting with Mike like this. The only arguments you ever really have are about finances, and you wanting to help out with those finances that are stressing Mike out.

You’re finally asleep by the time Mike comes to bed and you aren’t sleeping soundly, but you are asleep and that’s the best you can do right now.

You don’t hear the alarm clock going off the next morning to wake you up but you feel Abby’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you awake, “Wake up…. We have something to show you.. You have to wake up…” she says quietly not wanting to completely scare you to death.

You open your eyes and look at her with a smile, “Good morning, hows my favorite girl doing?” You ask and sit up in bed rubbing your eyes as you come back to reality.

She grabs your arm and pulls like a little kid on Christmas morning, “Come on, I want you to see what me and Mike did for you! You have to come to the living room now.”

You laugh and nod, almost forgetting about the argument you and Mike had the night before. You stand up out of bed and let her pull you to the dining room. You round the corner and a beautiful display of paper flowers decorating the room comes into view. They are hung up unevenly on the walls and you can’t help but admire what you believe to be Abby’s handiwork.

On the table you see a candle at the center of two plates stacked with fresh pancakes. Abby takes you to your seat and pulls it out for you like it was rehearsed and you give her your politest, “Thank you, madam.”

She scurries off in the direction of her room and you hear the door shut, presumably with her inside.

Mike soon emerges from the kitchen wearing your apron with a sheepish smile on his face, “Listen, I just want to say I’m really sorry for how I behaved last night. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn and I definitely shouldn’t have been fighting in front of Abby. Most importantly, I shouldn’t have said something so thoughtless and hurtful. I know you don’t think we are a charity case.” He sits down across from you and scoots his chair in so he is facing you straight on.

You give him a nod to continue talking, you’re ready to listen now.

Mike lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and continues, “You’re family. I love you a lot, and you’re family now. I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive when all you were trying to do was help. I am so sorry.”

You think for a moment and then allow your hand to stretch across the table reaching for his, “Okay. It’s okay Mike.” You take his hand in yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I forgive you. I’m also sorry for pushing you on something you were uncomfortable with. It wasn’t my place.”

He shakes his head and looks you in the eyes, “No it is your place, or rather it can be if you want it to be. You’ve been around for so long and I don’t want you to go anywhere, if you want to be apart of Abby’s life in that way then I should be greatful, and I am.” He says sincerely.

You give him a grin and he pulls your hand up to his lips to press a kiss gently to the back of your knuckles.

Moments later you hear Abby’s door open and she scurries through the living room to your side she wraps her arms around you and leans her head into you, “Can I please join art club with Sophia, I told her I would so that we could hang out more,”

Your smile grows even more and you wrap your arm around Abby hugging her close and nodding, “Of course you can Abby we will take care of it for you, won’t we Mike?”

He looks at you from across the table and nods, “Yeah Abby, We will take care of it.” And in that moment you feel at home with this little family you joined. You feel like it’s starting to fall into place.

[awkward-halfhug]

probably not the best sedative | eleventh doctor x reader

summary: the Doctor's finally asleep. Which is nice, but you have to pee

chapter 1 2 3 4 5

contents: fluff, cuddles, full bladders being the enemy of cute moments

(also on my ao3)

1.2k

The Doctor is insufferable.

This was the first thing out of your mouth to him when he returned from his half-hour's worth of rest that you had forced him to take. You hadn't expected a full 8 hours from him, but at least one hour would've been nice. 

According to the doctor, he was going to sleep, that was definitely his plan, and he was definitely trying to do so, until he just so happened to remember that Time Lords are physiologically unable to sleep all by their lonesome. Something about cats?

Needless to say, that was one of the most ridiculous things the you had ever heard him say (and you travel with the doctor, so that's saying something.)

And yet...

And yet, you think as you peer down at the Gallifreyan currently curled up on your lap, snoring softly, maybe it wasn't as ridiculous a 'fun fact' as you originally thought.

It has been, not one, not two, not eight, but twelve whole hours since the Doctor came traipsing into your room with what seemed like yet another excuse as to why he was incapable of taking it easy.

Twelve whole hours since you rolled your eyes at his antics and told him, with a challenging quirk of your brow, "Fine, then you should have no problem as long as you're not alone, right? There's a stack of blankets over there, you can sleep next to me while I read." 

Twelve whole hours since he grabbed a blanket, almost eagerly, and settled himself down on the couch, without a hint of reluctance. He had wiggled around until he was apparently comfy, nuzzled his head against your leg where he laid it, and let out a little contented noise that made your heart swell.

Twelve hours that he slept like a baby through, and possibly might even be coming onto thirteen hours, except you really, really have to pee, and unfortunately you think you're going to have to wake him soon or your bladder might well explode.

But a few more minutes won't hurt, you think.

At one point he seemed a bit restless, perhaps because of some dream he was having, or maybe he was just uncomfortable. So you tried to calm him. Hesitantly, you reached out and gently ran your fingers through his messy locks. He calmed almost instantly, and you marveled at that a bit. The more you stroked his hair, the more relaxed he became, and so with one hand you continued petting him (and that's effectively what you was doing; petting him), while you held your book open with your other hand. 

You had to stop petting after a while, your arm tiring of the repetitive task, and immediately the Doctor's sleeping face twisted into the cutest little pout. He even made a little whining sound that you wishe you had recorded, for future teasing purposes, but alas your phone was in the other room.

His head is heavy (must be all that infinite knowledge he claims to carry around) and it's long since cut off the circulation to your feet. But he looks so peaceful that you couldn't bring yourself to move him.

And truthfully, it's nice to be able to look at him this close. To study his features, all the little details that people miss because he never stays still long enough to notice them.

Like, for instance, you noticed somewhere around the fourth hour that he actually does have eyebrows. All this time you had secretly thought his species just didn't grow them. You had thought that was just a feature of the Gallifreyan race, and he would most definitely laugh at you for the assumption, so it's a good thing you realized before you asked him about it.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, you had run just the tips of your fingers across his delicate (and near invisible) eyebrows. They were so soft. You did that a few more times before deciding he must be a pretty heavy sleeper when he actually was able to sleep like this.

And so you let your fingertips trail across more of his face. His skin is so smooth, you had noted, as your fingers glided down the arch of the Doctor's nose, across his sharp cheekbones, his strong jawline, his funny chin...his lips. His lips were so soft under the pads of your fingers. You wondered if--

You had wrenched your hand away from him when you realized how creepy all that had been. Had you been checking him out? While he was asleep? Your face had probably turned crimson, you're sure, and you're incredibly grateful that he hadn't woken up while you were doing...whatever it was you had been doing. Just the thought of how he might've reacted to that has you blushing in embarrassment again.

You push the thought from your mind forcefully and attempt to focus on your book, but you're unable to focus with the Doctor snuggling into a different position on your lap. This time, he clings to your knees like they're his favorite pillow, and once he's sufficiently comfortable, a contented little smile on his face, he starts doing something that you would never have expected, even from him.

The Doctor starts purring.

Actually, honest to goodness, purring. You have to stifle your giggles, which only makes the full bladder thing that much harder to ignore. And yet now you really don't want to get up. The Doctor is purring! Again, where is your phone when you need it?

You reluctantly decide to get up finally, when you can think of literally nothing else except your bladder.

You place your book down on the side table next to you and carefully, gently, you unlatch the Doctor's hands from your knees and lift him up enough for you to slip out from under him. You place a nearby pillow under his head and lower him onto it. He latches onto it, and, when he doesn't appear to be waking, you run to the bathroom as quietly as you can manage without sacrificing speed. You really, really, really need to pee.

~~

Returning to your room, bladder no longer crying out for your attention, you find the Doctor blessedly still asleep.

You have a decision to make. Your legs have just regained feeling, and your back is actually aching pretty badly from sitting upright like that for around thirteen hours straight (had you really sat there for thirteen hours? Had the Doctor really stayed still for thirteen hours?), and you desperately want to crawl into your bed and sleep yourself.

But the Doctor said he's a social sleeper. What if he doesn't sleep well without your presence? And besides...you really want to hear him make that purring sound again.

The choice is easy.

Grabbing an extra pillow for your poor back, you make your way back over to your couch. Lifting him up (he really is heavier than he looks), you settle down on the cushions and gently place him back onto your lap, which he takes to like a happy kitten once again.

The Doctor's purring starts back up as he turns towards you and wraps both arms around your waist.

A slow, happy smile blooms on your face, as you brings your hand to his hair for more of those pets he loves so much.

"The things I do for this man" she try to grumble to the TARDIS. But your voice is too full of affection to pull off annoyance, both you and the TARDIS know it, so you give up the pretense with a happy sigh.

The TARDIS hums knowingly.

"Yeah", you agree. "I guess he's worth it."

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot! ♡

[sirenmoth]

Bookworm

Based of this post i made. GN Reader

If he was sure about one thing, it was your avid love and passion for reading, he could leave you with a book alone while a worked in his office or went to run errands and you wouldn't have moved at all, expect to change the position you were reading in. You were absorbed into your own private worlds, books of different genres layed scattered around the house, stacked up agaisnt each other on any surface you could find to place one, on overcrowed shelves and side tables, even tucked up against the wall on the floor.

It was cute to see you nosedeep in whatever book you were reading but it did concern him to some extent, he managed to sneak up on you a few times, having to physically drag you to eat or to rest your eyes.

Well, by sneaking, more like louding stomping around the house, purposley making as much noise as possible, still you sat and read undisturbed by his actions.

Nothing seemed to work, the amount of books now meant he's accidentally walked into a stack on the floor or nearly had a a few fall off the shelves they cluttered, "Are you planning on moving this anytime soon?" He asked, looking in you direction.

You sat on the sofa, a blanket over your legs and a book you were somehow already nearing half way through even though it was bought a week ago, laid open on your lap, not looking up from the words you were focusing on, you nodded absent mindlessly, eyes never leaving the paper back in front of you, turing the page to start the next chapter and curling up more under the blanket.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't get an answer from you in a while, he couldn't complain about the placements, the only spare room in the house was turned into his at home office, his own space he can retreat to if needed, so getting mad that you turned the living room into your own space was wrong,

It was only fair you got your own space, an area where you could read and store your books without worry, and so he could easy know where you were.

After reaching the midway point of the novel, bookmarking it with the bookmark he bought you as a gift after you looked at him in disgust when he told you to dog-ear the page like he does, moving the blanket from your legs and stretched. Looking around, the lack of books around caught you off guard, it instantly became clear how clean and decluttered everything looked, like you could finally breathe after drowning for so long.

"Where'd all my books go?" you mutter to yourself, getting up from where you've been sitting for who knows how long, a noise from the sunroom caught your attention, it was at the far back of the house and neither you nor he used it for much other than storage.

Calling out to him, knocking on the door to the room before opening it, he stops you " Darling! Wait there, i wanna show you something." he called from inside, sounding a little out of breath, you sighed hoping it wasn't another one of his retreat rooms, "It's not done yet." a loud noise followed by the sound of him grunting, like he was moving something around.

Puzzled, you waited outisde the room, unsure of what was happening that was so important, "Have you seen my books?" you asked him from the other side of the door, crossing your arms over your chest, "I can't find them anywhere." you add. Finally the door opens just enough for him to squeeze out and to keep whatever was inside hidden, "What was that?" you question him again, even more confused than before.

He smiled at you, taking you hand in his, "I have seen you books, so don't be mad at me." he explained, "I found somewhere for you to put them, i know you have a habit of going into that pretty head of yours when reading." That explanation did nothing to help your curiosity. He motioned to you stand in front of the sunroom door, with him behind you.

"I hope you like it, took me hours." He kissed the back of your head, reaching out from behind you to open the door.

The sight in front of you left you speechless, a whole mini library was there, right in fron of your eyes. Taking a few steps into the now renovated room, taking in the sight, a double loveseat big enough to hold two people, was pushed up agaisnt the far right wall, complete with pillows and a throw blanket over the back of it. A singular arm chair in the left corner sat with its own pillow, propped neatly in the center of the chair. Bookshelevs, both refurbished and handmade lined every available wall, reaching upwards towards the ceiling and skylights, creating a warm and cozy feeling. A ladder, which you noticed was on a whell system, sat attache to the larger bookshelf in the room. A decent sized coffee table was placed in front of the double love set, already with a few book ready to be read.

A fair of arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you out of you dazed stated. "Do you like it? Thought you could have your own space to retreat and relax." he said, watching as your eyes looked from one thing to another, "I tried my best to order them how you like it, hopefully it's ok." sheepishly he smiled, his eyes never leaving your awestruck expression.

Turning to him with the biggest smile on your face he's ever seen, you hug him tightly, squeezing him as you buried you face in the crook of his neck, giving him chase butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw, each a silent thank you for his gift and effort. "I love it, thank you so much." you reply, letting go so you explore your new personal space, running you fingers over the polished sheleves, scaaning the small decor pieces and details he added, little trinkets he brought back for you from his travles.

He sat down on the sofa, watching in adoration as you wondered around your new private world, reading the titles off the spines of the books on the shelves, happy with himself and his work, ignoring the gnawing feeling that he'll have to possibly make a new section soon when you inevitably run out of space. You grabbed a book of one of the shelves and made your way over to him, settling down between his legs, getting comfortable with his back slightly agaisnt the back of the sofa and the armrest, one leg streched out on the loveseat with you perched in betweem his legs.

His arms were back around your waist the second you stopped moving, you grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of your legs, arranging so it covered you both completly, your back against his chest and his arms around your waist, you set the novel you choose down on your lap and opened it.

A sigh can be heard behind you, smiling softly to yourself, he's not moving anytime soon and you know he just figured that out. A few minutes after you opened the book, you feel another set of eyes peering over your shoulder at the pages in front of you, "Are you reading over my shoulder?" you playfully ask, earning a grunt in response. Giggling as you readjust the book, so he could totaly not read over your shoulder.

Whatever he had planned today wasn't going to happen and can wait, this is more important.

-- Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captian John Price, Nikolai, John “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz Garrick”, Logan Howlett and any f/o you can think of

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 8, Unexpected - Pt. 3*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Bad jokes, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. (oral (m receiving), PIV), Bucky hating on himself :(

Word Count: 4k

Previously On...: Leading Jade to her new room turned a little bit awkward when she and Bucky started bonding over their shared Hydra experience. You had to put a stop to tit.

A/N: Pun most definitely intended. Here's the final part of Chapter 8! Yay-- more smut! And the answer to the long asked question of "Why has Steve been so fucking weird?" is revealed!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows

"Sorry to take you away from your tit-ilating conversation, Barnes," you giggled as he carried you inside and deposited you on your sofa. He draped his massive frame over you, peppering kisses along your jaw bone.

"Mm, someone's got jokes," he hummed as he began working open the buttons of your silk blouse. "Only one pair of tits I'm interested in, and they are right..." he undid the final button, exposing your lace bra to his hungry gaze, "here. Hello, ladies." He brought his mouth to the curve of your breasts, planting open-mouthed kisses on your heated skin. "I missed them."

You reached up to card your hands through his hair while he continued his loving attention. "Pretty sure you saw them both this morning, Buck," you laughed.

“But that was hours ago, sweetheart.” Bucky ran his tongue lazily down the valley between your breasts, taking his time to lap and suck at the flesh, his stubble tickling at your skin. "Remember the first time I saw these beauties. You had your tac-suit down around your waist, were wearing that purple bra. God, I love that bra. Couldn't get them outta my head for days after that."

"Ugh." You threw your head back against the couch pillow with a laugh. "That was right after you asked me if I slept with Steve in Latvia." You felt Bucky hesitate in his ministrations. The pause was brief, barely noticeable, but you were so attuned to each other by this point in your relationship it may as well have been a neon sign blazing at you. "Hey," you said, putting a hand on his cheek and turning him to face you, "what's up?" He avoided your gaze. "Buck," you said, more forcefully, "talk to me."

Bucky sighed and rested his head on the swell of your breasts. "'s nothing," he murmured. "Just lemme love on you like you deserve, okay?" He started running the finger of his metallic hand in circles around the clothed nipple of your right breast, the bud tightening and hardening beneath his touch.

"Stop trying to distract me, Barnes," you admonished, swatting gently at his hand. "Tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

Bucky flicked his eyes up to yours, the sparkling blue reflecting back an emotion you'd never seen in them before: fear.

"Hey," you said, your voice turning serious as you sat up, taking his hands in yours as you positioned yourself to face him on the couch, "now you're freaking me out. Honesty, remember?"

Releasing one of your hands, Bucky ran his through his hair. He looked down at his feet. "I'm worried..." he mumbled, not meeting your gaze. "I'm worried if I tell you, you're gonna wanna leave me."

Your breath hitched with concern as you pulled your shoulders back, your mind wandering to all the possible worst-case scenarios of what he could possibly have to tell you that would make you want to leave him. Most of them involved Jade Carthage.

"It's Steve," Bucky said eventually, his voice so low you had to strain to hear him.

You released the breath you'd been holding. "Sweetheart," you said, climbing to your knees and pressing yourself against him, "why on Earth would you think anything having to do with Steve would make me want to leave you?"

Bucky turned to you, a look of complete devastation on his face. "Because he's in love with you, Pocket," he said, his voice so broken it hurt your heart. "He's been in love with you for years."

You couldn’t help it– you threw your head back and laughed. You weren't laughing at Bucky, or the pain he was obviously in, but the idea of Steve Rogers being in love with you, of all people, was absolutely hilarious.

"Steve is not in love with me, Buck. That's... that's ridiculous."

"'s not funny, doll," Bucky said, an adorable pout forming on his lips. "Right before I started going on missions, I told him-- I told him I thought I was fallin' for you. He told me he understood, because he'd fallen for you ages ago, but he was pretty sure he'd lost any chance he had with you after Berlin."

A memory hit you then, of the words Bucky had spoken to you that night at Gino's, when he was drunk on Asgardian liquor. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll," he'd said, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." And your argument in the elevator the night you'd finally gotten together: "Promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? ... I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."

You sat back on your heels. "Well, shit," you murmured, completely taken aback in shock.

"I won't get in the way of it," Bucky's voice was small, and when your eyes snapped to him, you saw his were full with unshed tears.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you said, crawling onto him to straddle his lap and cupping his face with your hands to ensure he was looking at you. "'Get in the way of it'? James Buchanan Barnes, do you honestly think I'm going to break up with you so I can go run off and be with Steve fucking Rogers?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed at you. "Why not? He's a God damned legend, for fucks’ sake! The kind of man you deserve. You don't think I know that you're too good for me? That it's just a matter of time before you realize I'm not worth it? I’m just an executioner with all his screws loose. You and Steve make more sense than you and I ever would."

You put a hand to your chest, his words causing your heart physical pain. He had made so much progress, but to know that he still held so much self-doubt as to think that he didn't deserve you? "Bucky," you began, tears coming to your eyes as you choked out the words, "I don't want Steve. I want you. I love you. You are everything to me."

"I don't deserve you, doll. I keep waiting for you to realize I'm no good for you and--"

You put your fingers to his lips, cutting him off before he could finish. "I decide what I deserve, Buck," you told him. "I decide what's good for me, and it breaks my fucking heart that you think you're not it, that you've been carrying this around inside all this time, on your own. You are the only man I have ever loved, the only man I ever want to love. How can I make you see that?"

Bucky's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you close, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You hugged him to you, rubbing your fingers along the back of his head.

"I do see it, sweetheart," he murmured into your skin, "in my heart, I know it. I just... I'm just so fucked up I can't always make my head believe it."

"Baby, have you talked to Dr. Raynor about this?" you asked. You knew Bucky's relationship with his court-appointed therapist was... rocky, at best, but she had done a lot of good for him in the time they'd been working together.

Bucky shook his head. "She, uh, she doesn't know about you," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Oh," you whispered. You were surprised to find that the admission hurt you. Even before becoming his girlfriend, you'd still been Bucky's best friend, and he'd never thought to mention you to his therapist?

"Hey, it's not like that," Bucky began, having read correctly into your silence. "You know everything I talk about with the doc goes in my court record, yeah? I-I couldn't stand the idea of other people reading it, reading about you, how I felt about you. Because, what if someone used it against you one day? Or came at you to hurt me? I’d never forgive myself. So I kept quiet about you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Buck." You brushed your lips to the top of his head. "That's not something you need to be sorry for, I promise, but, baby, I'm worried about you. It scares me that you still think so little of yourself that you don't think you deserve to be loved when you deserve everything good. Promise me you'll talk to Dr. Raynor about it, please? For me?"

Bucky raised his head from your neck and rested his forehead against yours. "Yeah," he conceded, letting out a breath. "I promise. I'll talk to Raynor."

You kissed his forehead. "Thank you." You moved down to kiss his eyes. "Thank you." His nose. "Thank you." You brought your lips to his, running your tongue gently across the seam of his lips until he parted them for you, deepening the kiss.

"'m sorry I ruined our afternoon, darlin'," Bucky murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with regret. "Shouldn’t have brought it up like that." His fingers traced soft patterns along the smooth skin of your exposed sides.

"Hey, nothing's ruined," you told him. "I'm just glad you finally said something. I hate the idea of you dealing with things alone, when you don't have to." You rubbed your nose against his before trying to lighten the mood a little. "So Captain America's really in love with me, huh?" you teased.

"Pocket," Bucky growled, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your neck.

"What?" Your voice was the epitome of innocence. "It's very flattering. Going to do wonders for my ego, having two Avengers in love with me."

"I've created a monster," Bucky moaned with a laugh. "I should have never told you."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Too late now; cat's outta the bag. No offense to Cap, though-- I'm only in love with one Avenger, so his feelings are irrelevant."

Bucky gave you a teasing smirk. "That so?"

You nodded, a mischievous grin sweeping across your face. "That's right. Think Thor would ever give me a second look?"

"Oh, you've got jokes, huh?" Bucky's fingers moved from gently caressing the skin of your sides to a full on onslaught of tickling.

"Barnes," you cried through your laughter as you struggled to get away from him, "you knock that off this instant!" Bucky just held you closer to him, his fingers dancing along your skin until you were writhing in his grasp.

"You gonna take it back?" he asked, grinning as you struggled.

"Yes, yes! I take it back," you managed to get out. Bucky ceased his assault and brought his hands to rest on your hips while you caught your breath. "You do not play fair, Barnes," you chastised once you could get a full sentence out again.

Bucky's blue eyes twinkled with laughter, the sight of it such a contrast to his earlier dismay that it made your heart soar. You'd give your life in this very moment if it meant that look would never leave his eyes (though, you were pretty sure that, if you died, he’d never laugh again). "You fired the first shot, doll," he said, pressing a kiss to your nose. "Though by this point, shouldn't find it that surprising."

"I love you," you said, all traces of levity suddenly leaving your expression.

He cocked his head, eyes questioning as he took in your sudden change in demeanor. "What brought that on?"

You shrugged, your silk shirt falling back slightly off your shoulders. "Just want you to know it," you told him. "Really, really know it. Trying to be serious, for once in my fucking life." Bucky chuffed, but you went on: "I don't ever want you to doubt it, or wonder if it's real, if you deserve it. I love you. With everything I have. Everything I am." You bit your lip, and though you'd told him countless times now that you loved him, something about this particular declaration left you feeling self-conscious.

Bucky reached a hand up and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. "Sometimes," he said, voice low and husky, "I think I dreamed you up, that you're just a figment of my imagination. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up in some Hydra base, and the last year and a half's been a dream my broken mind invented to keep me from losing my shit, because how could someone so perfect possibly be real?"

Your breath hitched as he traced his index and middle finger of his human hand along your jawline and down your neck, across your collarbone, sending you into a full-body shiver.

"I promise, it's real, Buck," you whispered. "Tell me: Does this..." you rolled your hips to press your heated core against the semi-hard length of him "feel like a dream to you?"

The rakish, smug smirk that Bucky unleashed on you then was seduction personified. "That always feels like a fucking dream, sweetheart," he drawled, pushing his own hips up against you and stealing a soft gasp from your lips. He began pressing soft kisses to your neck and chest.

"Weren't we supposed to spend this afternoon fucking?" you breathed. Bucky huffed a laugh and began nipping tiny marks into your neck.

"That was the implied, yet unspecified arrangement, yup."

"Then why are we still wearing so many fucking clothes?"

Instead of a response, you felt Bucky's hands reach up under your ass, lifting you up as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bed. Letting you down with the utmost gentleness, he slid your shirt all the way off your arms before he nestled himself beside you, lips never leaving your skin.

Your hands made their way under the fabric of his tight tee, fingers running along the lines of the taut muscles of his chest. Gently scratching your nails down his skin, you elicited a low moan from Bucky's lips.

"Fuck, doll," he murmured into your lips, "do that again." You did, only slightly harder this time around, and Bucky moaned even louder.

You reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it, needing him to sit up so you could pull it over his head. Emboldened now, you took his hands and placed them on the button of your waistband.

"Too many clothes, Barnes," you warned him. Bucky didn't need to be told again before he started unbuttoning your pants, helping you pull them down and off. He made to reach for your covered heat, but you gently pushed his hand away. "Not yet," you told him before bringing your lips to kiss him again.

While your tongues gently swept across one another, you reached down and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. Once that was done, you broke the kiss and crawled down the bed, Bucky trying to chase your lips.

"Lie back," you ordered, eyes wicked. When he complied, you reached for his waistband, pulling his pants and boxer briefs down and off his muscled legs. His raging erection sprang free from the confines of its cloth prison. You pushed his legs apart as you positioned yourself between them on your knees.

"Well, isn't this a pretty sight?" you hummed, brushing your hair back from your face. Leaning down, you licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of his cock, letting your tongue twirl around the aching red tip that was already dripping with pre-cum.

"Fuck, Pocket," Bucky moaned. You felt his hands reach for your hair, but you pulled back.

"Nuh-huh, Sergeant," you admonished with a wagging finger. "No touching. You'll get your turn." Three things happened at once in conjunction with your words: first, you noticed Bucky's pupils dilate with lust; second, a blush began to spread up his neck; and third, and perhaps most revealing of all, his cock twitched beneath your hand.

"Well, well, well," you mused, realization suddenly dawning on you, "it seems like somebody has a Sergeant kink. Good to know."

Bucky chuffed and put his vibranium arm behind his head, propping himself up so he could watch you, and rested his flesh arm across his abdomen. Bless him; you knew he'd try to keep his hands to himself, but would ultimately end up failing. "I don't know what you're talking 'bout, sweets."

You just smiled at him before returning to the task at hand, you proceeding to devour his cock as though it were your last meal, bringing him deep into your throat and hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked before pulling back off.

"So fucking heavy, Sarge," you murmured as you rolled his balls in your hands. "Bet you're getting real close, huh?" You looked up to see Bucky's eyes screwed shut as he nodded, his human hand now fisting the sheet next to him as a dark red flush spread across his cheeks. "Hey," you said, tapping him on the thigh, "eyes on me, soldier."

When his beautiful blue orbs had returned to yours, you smiled at him, then proceeded to move from your position, crawling yourself up until you were straddling him. Moving the gusset of your panties to the side, you slowly eased yourself down on him, relishing in the stretch until you were fully seated, your clit rubbing against his public bone as you leaned forward.

"Jesus," Bucky groaned when you began moving yourself up and down on his length, riding him at a slow, steady pace. "You're so fucking perfect, doll. I love you. Love you so fucking much."

With a smile you leaned back, letting your spine arch as you moved. Without warning, you felt Bucky sit up to meet you. You knew he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

"Think you can throw these in my face and expect me to keep my hands off?" he asked with a grin, pulling the cups of your lace bra down to expose your breasts. He brought his mouth to your nipple, teasing and sucking at the supple flesh as his hands found your waist. He began fucking up into you, the sensation combined with his attention to your breasts building your high.

"Oh, God. Right there, Buck," you moaned when his cock hit the right spot inside of you. "Just like that; don't stop!" You moved your hands to his back, fingernails leaving long, red marks in his skin. 

"Fuck," he growled. He increased the pace and intensity of his thrusting, working himself in and out of you like a piston. "God, you feel so fucking good. So tight. I wanna stay inside you for the rest of my damned life."

"I'd let you," you gasped, your thoughts becoming hazy as the tension inside you continued to build. "Always want you inside me."

Bucky's metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. The sudden, cold sensation as he began rubbing tight circles across the sensitive bundle of nerves sent you over the edge, and soon you were coming undone. You could feel your inner walls clenching around Bucky's cock, squeezing and begging it for his own release.

"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight. I'm gonna--" With a guttural moan that was practically a howl, Bucky reached his own peak, sending rope after rope of cum into your waiting channel. You draped your body across him in your spent state, resting your head on his shoulder as he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Was that real enough for you?" you asked him with a smirk as you worked to catch your breath. Bucky hummed, working both hands along the line of your spine.

"Mmm, I dunno, sweets. Felt like the best kinda dream to me." You nipped playfully at his jaw. "Thank you for being so good to me."

"My pleasure," you giggled, "truly."

"My girl and her jokes," he laughed, planting a kiss to the top of your head. "How 'bout I run us a bath, get you all cleaned up?"

You turned your head to look up at him, batting your lashes. "Bubbles, too?" you asked sweetly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine, bubbles, too." You tried to suppress your snort; though he would never admit it out loud, you knew Bucky secretly loved bubble baths, possibly more than you did. A simple indulgence of the comfort he'd so long been denied.

While he was in the bathroom, running the water, his phone buzzed from the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"Baby, you got a text message," you called.

"Can you check it for me, doll?" he called back. "Got bubbles on my hands."

You laughed to yourself as you crawled to the edge of the bed, picking his jeans up from the floor and searching the pockets for his phone. You stole a quick glance at the screen.

"It's Steve," you told him as you walked his phone back to him in the bathroom. You held it out to him, but he had his hand under the tap, checking the temperature of the water.

"What's he want?" Bucky asked. You didn't know; you hadn't wanted to invade his privacy by looking at his messages, and now his phone had locked itself. "Can you read it to me? Passcode's your birthday."

You held the phone to your chest, cheeks heating with affection. "Bucky Barnes," you said softly. "That..." You had trouble putting the emotions into words. First, that he trusted you with his passcode, and second, that he'd chosen your birthday.

He turned from the tub to look at you, shit-eating grin on his face. "What?"

"That is incredibly fucking sweet, thank you." You entered the numbers into the phone and checked the message from Steve.

"Oh," you pouted, the sweetness in your chest deflating somewhat. "Steve wants you to take point on Jade's training." You stuck out your tongue. "Ew."

Bucky laughed, running a wet hand through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably in all directions. "Tell him I'll think about it and let him know," he said. "I need to discuss it with my girl first."

You smiled as you thumbed the reply back to Steve. "Thank you, Buck."

"Of course, doll." He beckoned you over. "Now come here, time to get you all cleaned up."

"Aw, but Buck," you whined as you walked over, unclasping your bra and stepping out of your panties, "I thought you liked me dirty."

Bucky paused in his removal of his boxer briefs. "You keep that kind of talk up, I have half a mind to keep you dirty."

You tapped his chest as you stepped into the blissfully warm water of the sunken tub. "Promises, promises." He quickly followed you, and you soon settled, him with his back against the wall of the tub, and you against his chest. "57038," you said to him, once you both were submerged in bubbles.

"What now?" he asked in surprise.

"My phone," you told him. "The passcode's 57038. I want you to have it."

He leaned down to kiss the side of your neck. "Thank you, sweets, but you didn't have to tell me just because I told you mine." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Why does that number sound so familiar?"

You chuckled and turned to pull on the chain that held his dog tags around his neck. Holding it out in front of him, you pointed to the last five digits of his military service number. You watched him swallow thickly as he made the realization.

"You..." he paused to clear his throat, "you use my numbers for your passcode?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"Is that too much?" you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly shy.

"No! God, no!" Bucky wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into the crook of your shoulder. "I honestly don't know how you're even real," he murmured into your skin. "Keep thinking I'll close my eyes and you'll disappear." Reaching around, you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I'm real," you promised him, leaning back into his chest, "I'm real, this is real. And I'm not going anywhere."

He nuzzled into you, as if he could burrow into your skin in order to be closer to you. "I know I said I'd get you all cleaned up but, fuck, doll, you keep saying stuff like that..."

You wiggled around in his arms until you were facing him, legs wrapped back around his waist and arms draped around his neck; your favorite place to be. "Tub sex?" you asked, voice full of hope and excitement.

Bucky threw his head back and laughed before coming back down to kiss you. "Tub sex," he agreed with a smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[spooksforfun]

Husk Overlord AU Fic

This is the first chapter to my fic based on celestialalpacaron's Overlord Husk au

Husk had been dreading this day for a while now. He knew Valentino wouldn’t give up so easily, but a man could hope. And that’s what led him to the situation he was in now. Sitting at one of the many poker tables in his casino, across from the moth overlord. In between the both, slightly to the side was a contract signed by the both of them, stating that should Husk lose he would give Valentino the deed to his casino. However should Husk win, he would win the partial ownership Valentino has over the pornstar, Angeldust.

Said sinner was sitting right on the overlord’s lap, who had claimed the spider was his good luck charm, already having made him millions through his videos and pimping. It was clear to Husk that Angel was uncomfortable with the situation, clearly he didn't like the thought of his soul being bartered with.

Both overlord’s eyed each other. Valentino had a large grin on his face, which hadn’t faltered throughout the game. A novice would believe the moth had no tells, but Husk was no novice. You don’t get to own Hell’s most profitable casino owner by not being able to read another’s body language.

Just like he could tell the fake personality that the pornstar exudes, he could see straight through his fake confidence, and boasting about Valentino’s skills in and out of the bedroom, that he truly didn’t want to be anywhere near the moth.

Valentino breathed out a puff of his pink smoke from the cigarette he had been smoking from as he laid out his cards. A full house. When it took more than a second for Husk to respond with his own cards his grin widened. 

“It’s ok Husk, I’ll make sure to take good care of your casino.” No doubt thinking of all the ways he could use the casino to create another one of his prostitution rings.

Husk let out a small chuckle. Which instantly turned Valentino’s smirk into a frown. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news.” But it was clear there truly was no disdain for the information the casino overlord was about to give. He laid his own cards down on the smooth wooden table. A royal flush.

Immediately Valentino stood from the table. Knocking Angel out of his lap and straight to the floor. His short dress slid up exposing more of his fluffy white legs. The sweetheart neckline of the sparkly pink dress he had on accentuated the curve of his chest fluff. You could see his fear not only in his eyes, but the way he was breathing. It was clear it had not been the first time he saw Valentino this angry. 

The tall moth slammed his hands on the table. Now shouting about how Husk must have cheated, there is no way he could have lost. Husk only gave him an annoyed look in return. Not even bothering to get from his seat. “A deal’s a deal. Tino.” He huffed out, holding his hand out to the enraged man. Valentino had no choice but to hand over Angel’s contract, no longer the owner of the spider demon’s soul. Along with it came a set of pink smoky chains which materialised along with the contract. The chains led to a thick collar around the slender white neck of the man on the floor.

With a few more angry swears and a promise of him not giving up so easily, and what sounded like squeaking from the taller man, he began to gather himself and leave the private room Husk had prepared for their game. Angel watched, now on his knees, as his former owner walked out of the room. He looked to the floor for a moment, evening out his breathing before turning to his new owner.

Husk however was not paying attention to him. He was focused on his staff giving out orders. They were all moving with quick purpose, none of them sparing Angel another glance, as if this happened everyday. 

The winged cat finally looked down at the pornstar. He stood and walked closer to him, the bright pink chain still in his hand. He never pulled the chain taut, it stayed relaxed, even when he was close to Angel, he didn’t need to pull on it to get his attention, he already had it. Angel looked into his eyes, he couldn’t tell what the man was thinking. The silence was cut between the two as Angel shivered, not having noticed that his furred shawl had slipped past his shoulders, being held in his elbows instead.

“You know, I didn't think Tino would be a dumbass to bet you over my casino.” As he said that, the chains glowed bright and broke, right in front of Angel’s eyes. And Husk held his hand out for the spider to take. He was unsure at first, whether he could trust the gambler or not. Slowly, with a shaky hand he reached out to him. Their hands met, Husk was soft, not as soft as Angel, but still comforting.

“Here’s some ground rules.” Hus’s baritone voice filled the room, making Angel look from his own hand back to the cat’s face. “Ya want cash, dope, a boat. Anything with a tag, I'll give ya it.”  Husk’s face seemed uninterested with the topic. “Do what you want, but put that famous face o’ yours to work and bring guests in.” 

Husk rubbed his thumb over Angel’s middle finger. The man on the floor looked confused until he felt a slight tightness on the finger. He couldn’t look just yet at what the overlord had done to his finger as he was gently pulled up to his feet. He was almost twice the height of the overlord. Had this been any other situation he would have laughed at their predicament. But he still hadn’t found his voice since Valentino had left.

“No wearing blue. I fucking hate that colour.” Their hands were still connected. “There’s no such thing as ‘free’ in my casino. Everyone’s gotta pay up. Nothing here is cheap so no weapons beyond the doors.” Angel was stuck under the gaze from the smaller sinner. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. He was amazed he was taking in everything said to him, but it was as if Husk had him under some spell. “If you’re hungry, I'll get ya something for that. Same thing goes if you want some privacy. I’m assuming you have your own place, since Tino only owned you when you were working for him.” Still unable to speak, Angel only nodded. “I’ll make sure you have a room here to destress. And if someone here is treating you like ass, I’ll have them shot.” Husk’s eyes bore deep into Angel’s mismatched ones. “But as long as you’re under me, do your job  and hustle the hell out of the lowlifes here.” Husk finally gave him a smirk as he sent Angel out. One of his staff was waiting for him. He was escorted out of the casino as he heard that deep voice once more, calling out that he’ll have his first shift tomorrow. Outside the casino was a car, and the driver opened the door and led him inside. The inside had black leather seats, with red and gold accents. The driver got in the front and asked Angel for his address. 

Angel finally found his voice, and gave out his address. He tried to fully understand what had happened. Val no longer owned him, now some other overlord did, and he didn’t know if he should be happy about it or not. So far Husk had not hurt him, but it could all just be a matter of time before his real intentions were shown. The streets blurred past his window as he tried to distract himself. He wrapped his arms around himself and he felt it. He looked at the hand Husk had held. Around his middle finger was a simple gold ring. This must be how the overlord showed his possessions. 

The car stopped outside his apartment and the driver hurriedly opened the door for him once more and helped him out of the car. He slowly climbed the stairs up to his apartment. Once inside his home, he beelined for his bed where he met fat nuggets who immediately cuddled up to him. He stared up at the ceiling, his hand raising up as he stared at the ring on his finger. He felt his eyes grow heavy and he decided sleep was for the best. To prepare him for what tomorrow would bring.

@celestialalpacaron