#would become all the more obvious and more difficult to swallow

[softlyapocalytpic]

I've spent the last... hour at this point typing a whole god damn essay in response to essentially say:

ya.

It's true.

I may love these games to hell and back but BOY DO THE MAKE ME SUFFER. It's been five - six years of me yelling about the same shit.

I want a re-make of Fallout 3 so bad if for no other reason than because the companions have so many interesting tidbits and traits that would be so interesting to go into depth with on a companion quest that are just kinda left to the imagination like, Fawkes’s could be about remembering who he was before he mutated, Charon’s could be linked to breaking out of his programming or whatever it is and burning his contract, idk what Butch’s would be, but he would absolutely be a more interesting companion if there were friendship level conversations you could have with him, because he grew up with the Lone Wanderer. Even though they antagonized each other they know each other better than anyone else out in the wasteland and it’d be such an interesting dynamic especially because!!! he flirts!!! with the female LW!! but we don’t have any option in game to flirt back or anything, we just give him commands.

[barbiiecams]

doubts

drew starkey x younger!reader (like 19/20 sorry not sorry 😭), reader calls drew “papa” *not in a weird way*, smut, in love w the age gap concept cus of @native2princess ! <3

you watched yet another video on the internet of drew down at disney world without you, but with his friend group that all had a few years on you.

he would send pictures of everything that was cute or that reminded him of you, and you really did appreciate it. but it still didn’t swallow the lingering feeling in your gut.

you weren’t even invited. it was obvious why since you couldn’t even buy a drink legally, let alone not even close with half of them, but for some reason it still hurt and had you questioning things even further about everything.

you swore that you guys were drifting apart.

not only did that make you sad, but it also left you scared and questioning everything.

the only thing that made you wonder why you two were drifting like you thought you were was because of the age gap.

was he getting tired of you? was the age gap starting to become a burden? were you just too immature?

and let’s not even get started on how drew acted around his female friends — that were once again a lot older.

all you could do was just cry. it was a dumb reason to cry about, but you don’t wanna lose drew yet you really think you are. he was your first and you hoped he’d be your last, but who knows where you two may end up?

seeing how he acted with his friends currently was already ruining you. now you found yourself down a rabbit hole of searching through old videos of him before you were even dating.

it was crazy, of course you were aware of that. but it did nothing but further increase your worries seeing how he would act around these girls. all older than you and all more outgoing.

so now here you were, stalking your own boyfriend while you sat in your bed, silent tears streaming down your face.

currently, drew was now in paris for the fashion show. he wanted you to come, but it would be too difficult for you. plus school had just ended and both of you knew that you were planning to spend more time with your family this summer.

regardless of that, this feeling was awful. you’ve had old puppy-love heart breaks during highschool with guys you dated just to say you were in a relationship, but this is real. a real committed relationship you’re in with a guy a little over 10 years older than you.

he’s so mature. so are you, but not entirely. you still had a lot more to experience and learn, and he was always so patient.

but maybe now that patience was wearing thin.

you sniffle one more time before closing out all your apps and throwing your phone on the nightstand next to you. wanting to sleep it off and praying you’d wake up feeling better, your insides just were not letting that happen. not to mention you couldn’t fall asleep without at least getting a goodnight text from him.

laying down was no use. as soon as you tried to lay your head down on the pillow and just relax, the overthinking just continued to grow. there was no escape from these thoughts and it was just eating you straight alive.

you huff while turning over, switching sides and seeing if that would help. spoiler: it didn’t.

all you could do now is groan while sitting up. a certain thought ran through your mind that you really didn’t want to go through with, but did you have a choice? you already felt as if the end of things are near, so why let him break your heart (even though you’d be expecting it) when you can just do it the hard part first?

with a sigh, you reached over to grab your phone and open drew’s contact. everything was making you sick. you just stared at the screen, skimming over the conversation you had earlier.

it was the usual. ‘hows your day’, ‘i miss you’, ‘this reminded me of us’, all the cute stuff.

but it just didn’t hit the same. that feeling of him leaving you because of your age wasn’t going anywhere, and it was making you feel insecure on extreme ends

your fingers started typing. there were no real thoughts, just your pure raw emotions. you hit backspace a couple of times, you sat there and thought about the next few words you were going to say, but eventually you got it all put together it pained you type, but it pained you even more contemplating on whether or not you should send it.

‘hey drew. i��ve been missing you a lot recently and i know it’s weird and you’re going to question why i sent this after you read it, but im sorry. i really do feel like you’re leaving me soon and it’s taking a toll on me badly. i don’t want this to end but i can tell that it is and i just know + feel like we’re drifting apart. i feel like it’s because of my age so i really do understand and respect that. we can talk more once you get back because i hate to do this over text but i can’t just bottle my feelings anymore. goodnight 🩷’

a few more seconds of contemplation, you hit send and stared at the screen. you didn’t know how he would respond so you should’ve been shutting off your phone and running away.

but you didn’t. you stared at the screen and waited until he read it.

thankfully, it didn’t take him any longer than three minutes to open your message, and soon after, the dots were bubbling.

drew himself was lost. confused wasn’t even the word for the long paragraph you just sent him. he even started triple texting you.

‘???’

‘what are you talking about baby?’

‘i’m so lost’

you sighed reading his texts. he didn’t get it, realistically you shouldn’t have expected him to. it was out of the blue, and little to your knowledge, he didn’t think for a second anything was wrong between you too.

when you didn’t answer him as soon as you read it, he went back to typing.

‘answer me’

‘i’m really confused and worried. it’d be nice if you stopped leaving me on read’

‘call me now’

you didn’t even have a chance to start typing because you had an incoming call with drew’s name on it. you didn’t wanna pick up, but you knew you had to because if the roles were reversed, oh you’d definitely be throwing a fit.

swallowing quickly, you hit the green answer button to drew’s facetime call but moved your face out of the camera.

he’s walking, most likely back to his hotel with furrowed eyebrows and an expression that you think showed… annoyance?

drew’s the first one to speak up, “y/n, what the hell are you talking about?” he says sounding very confused and very upset as well.

“i feel like we’re drifting apart apart i don’t know.” you replied. your voice isn’t even a third as stern as his. it’s not stern at all nor convincing.

“where is that coming from? what are you talking about it’s our ages?” he questions you again.

you really hoped a fan wouldn’t come up to him. not because it would interrupt the call, but because they would be walking up on him pissed off and getting a taste of his very apparent bad mood.

you sighed, “it’s just how i feel. maybe i’m not mature enough for this.”

his face scrunches with confusion even further. he then looks down to his screen to see the ceiling you were showing.

“why do you all of a sudden feel this way? you are mature. if you weren’t, this relationship wouldn’t be a thing in the first place.”

this was something else you wanted to avoid; him being mad at you. you hated making him upset and now that you were already upset, and he was just getting annoyed with you, it wasn’t helping and it made you feel worse.

“show me your face baby. you know i don’t like talking to walls.” he says once you don’t respond to his actual voice this time.

reluctantly, you put your face in the screen. sitting up and cuddling onto your bed sheets.

“y/n, nothing is wrong. we aren’t drifting apart at all so i don’t know why you feel otherwise. we’re okay and you know this, baby. stop overthinking.” he reassures you.

before you could finally respond with anything else, you heard a few girls calling his name from the other side of his phone. good luck to them!

“i’ll call you back. we’re not done talking.” he says, then swiftly hangs up.

you wanted to puke. you hated being in any type of conflict with people, let alone being in one with drew.

a headache was starting to form, and it forced you to lay back down and sleep. you kept your phone right next to you on your bed, just in case drew woke you up by ringing your phone again.

—

you weren’t sure when the previous night you fell asleep, but you didn’t wake up until 12 the next day. and that was due to your doorbell ringing multiple times at once.

you whined at the fact you had to leave your warm bed, but you slowly made your way down your apartment’s stairs, rubbing your eyes and forcing yourself to wake up.

opening the door ready to curse out whoever had the nerve to wake you up at this hour, it was drew standing at the door with flowers in one hand and his stuff in the other.

now this is what really woke you up.

“how are you here…?” you questioned.

he exhales, “soon as we hung up yesterday i checked out and booked a flight here. we really need to talk in person.

you step to the side to let him in, then he shuts the door behind him and hands you the flowers.

both of you take a seat at the table. “i need you to fully explain what you’re feeling. that paragraph honestly made no sense and as soon as i read the whole thing i knew i had to get down here.” he says.

you press your lips together before speaking. “i’m sorry.”

he makes a face of puzzlement and also motions for you to keep going.

“maybe im not mature enough for this, drew. i don’t know.”

“what makes you think that? what happened or what did i do that has you questioning everything?” he asks, reaching out for your hand.

you sniffle before continuing, “i just feel like im holding you back. you’re buying drinks, going to clubs and hanging out with your friends who are all around your age and im still in school. it’s not working-”

he cuts you off before you can finish that. “those aren’t reasons, baby. it is working. do you feel left out or something?”

“no it’s just,”

there’s a pause before he says something again, “just what? i don’t understand what’s got you so in your head.

“i don’t know how to explain it. i just think you’re drifting from me because of where we’re at in life and i hate it.” the words finally form, and you can feel a little bit of weight being lifted off your chest now that you’ve got it out.

his expression now shows a face of understanding, then he’s standing up and swiftly making his way over to you, lifting you up before securing your legs around him.

you let out a squeal at the action. when he was balanced, he made his way upstairs to your room with you in his arms.

stepping into your decorated room, he throws you down on the bed then hovers over you. “i’m gonna prove to you that you deserve this relationship.”

his lips make their way to your jaw, leaving little lovebites on them, then down to your neck and chest.

your hands fly to his buzzed head. you let out soft sighs at his lips being on your body, a feeling you loved the most.

his hands travel to your pajama shorts then dipped into the waistband of your panties. as hes taking them both off at the same time, he distracts you by now placing his lips on yours, slowly making out with you.

now your hands are taking action, working to get is shirt off to see his toned body once again. when it’s off, one hand is still on his head while the other goes down to his abs, feeling on him.

now he’s starting to get quick, fumbling with his belt and pants, ready to do you into the mattress.

sooner than later, both of your clothes are off and in random sports throughout the room.

his middle and ring finger are inside you, stretching your out as you moan and grind into his hand.

drew’s cock is laying there on your stomach, practically reaching your ribs. this was just another reminder of how deep he really goes when fucking you.

you could barely keep your eyes on him while his fingers worked you. “that feel good?”

you moan out a “yea.” you definitely couldn’t let him go. the way he could make you fall apart with just his fingers is crazy as it is.

“i bet, baby. already so wet. you know what you want huh?” he coos.

this makes you nod. “want your cock, please.” you reach your hand down to where it rested on you, but he moves your hand away.

“i know you do. but i need this pussy stretched and ready for me.” he responds

“i can take it! promise! just give it to me,” you whine.

drew gives in at your begging. he removes his fingers from inside you before sticking them in your mouth.

he grabs his cock before lining it up with your entrance. he slowly pushes in, making you whimper around his fingers. it hurt a little bit, but the pleasure overrode the pain.

“shhh,” he hushes you, putting his cock in all the way and forcing you to take all that he gave you.

you continued to let out sounds because of the pleasure he was giving you. drew was letting out groans of content himself.

“feels so good, baby. so fucking good.” he throws his head back.

his words did nothing but turn you on more. your eyes squeeze shut before you guide his hand out of your mouth and onto your throat, signaling what you want from him.

he smirks before moving his other hand to your throat, choking you slightly but enough that you can still breathe.

“yea you like when i go hard on you, right baby? this pussy just loves when i go rough on her, doesn’t she?” he teases.

“mhm!” you squeak, loving the feeling of just taking all of him so deep and so rough.

he makes your legs cross completely around him before leaning down into your neck.

this was your favorite position. you being on your back, him groaning in your hear and putting hickeys on your neck, it was so much at once and you loved it real bad.

his lips are right next to your ear. “i’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

he lets out another sound before continuing, “you’re not leaving me either. neither of us are going anywhere.

your breath catches in your throat when he says this. maybe this was all you needed. some reassurance, and a good pounding to go with it.

he sits up before pulling out to turn you around. now that you’re flat on your stomach, he slides right back in with a hand on your lower back right before your butt and the other pushing your head down into the pillows.

you screamed out when he started thrusting all over again. it hurt so good, you just wanted to do this forever him.

you tried to move away slightly because he was just going ham on your poor hole. but all it took was you reaching one hand up, gripping the sheets and trying to pull away before he yanked your head back by your hair. he then brought your back up to his chest and held you by your throat.

“stop running, baby.” he growls into your ear.

“it’s so deep tho, papa.” your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth hangs open.

he kisses right below your ear, “you’re fine.”

that bubbly feeling started to form again. you were about to cum, and somehow drew could always tell too.

“know you’re gonna cum, mama. hold that shit.” he tells you as he pushes you back into the sheets.

right now that request just didn’t seem possible. “i can’t!”

he gives your right cheek a firm slap. “you can and you will. don’t make me say it again.”

you guys stay in this position for a while. him just hitting it from the back deep and all you needed to do was lay there and take it like a good girl.

his good girl.

suddenly, he flips you back over, then lays down himself setting you on top. now he’s got his feet planted on the bed, thrusting up into you.

at this angle, you guys can see the belly bulge happening from how deep his cock was. just proving how big he really is again.

“see that baby? that’s me. all up in those guts.” he says to you.

you throw your head back, but he cups the back of your head to bring you down into him, chest to chest.

“y’the only one who gets fucked like this. y’know that? only one who deserves it too,” his arms wrap around your waist now. “only fucking one.”

his lips are practically on your ear as he says this. you’re only able to nod, but he wants to hear your voice.

“tell me you understand that baby, say it.” his thrusts slow down, but there still deep, and he’s angling it to make sure he’s hitting that good spot.

“i…”

another slap hits on to your cheek. “say it, princess.”

“yes! i understand!” you finally moan out.

“yes who, baby?”

“yes papa!” your voice is weak now.

he smirks at your submission and continues to fuck you hard. more than just a few thrusts later, he’s letting out a lot more groans than what he already was.

“shit baby… y’gonna make me cum soon. you gonna let me put it in you, hm?”

“drew…”

his hips are starting to stutter. “know you’re ready to cum too. been holding it in like papa told you too, good girl. fuckk.”

his arms are really really squeezing around your waist, keeping you still so you can’t try and move from his brutal thrusts.

“cum with me baby girl. got a big load for you.” he moans.

“don’t knock me up.” as good as the moment felt right now, you were dead serious about that.

he chuckles, “i won’t baby. know you wanna feel that cum all in your stomach tho.”

you moan one last time before finally cumming around him. you couldn’t hold it back anymore, no matter how much he told you to wait for him.

but your own orgasm sent his off. he felt you come undone around him, and two seconds later you felt his hot sperm fill you up.

drew’s arms moved from around your waist to seriously gripping your hips down, not letting you waist a drop of what he had to give you.

moans and deep breaths were coming from the both of you. that was the most intense sex you guys had for a while, not to mention the first time he’s actually came inside you.

when he finally came down from his high, he slowly pulled out of you and just let you rest on his chest.

“thank you,” you quietly speak up.

he doesn’t respond, but he smiles and kisses your forehead.

minutes after just sitting in silence, he sits up against your headboard and takes your face into your hands.

“baby, when i say youre what i want i mean it. if you weren’t mature enough for me, i wouldn’t still be here.” he says. you don’t actually answer, you want him to keep going.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. nothing about that is going to change and nothing can make it change. i don’t know what you saw or if i did something, but im sorry. okay?”

you nod with a smile. “okay.”

he smiles back at you then pressed his lips against yours, giving you a nice firm kiss. which slowly turned into a makeout.

you guys pull away just to catch your breath, “we gotta get you packed up, sweetheart.”

“for what?” you ask.

“i’m taking you back to paris with me.”

[haveagarbageday]

Got a secret, can you keep it? \\ Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen (Lestappen)

summary: You're looking for your runaway driver in the paddock when you see something you shouldn't have. Before you know it, you become a part of this well-kept secret.

additional info: I'm on a roll! No, actually, I posted the Max one while I was at work, and then I had half a day left with nothing to do. This idea came to my mind and I had to write it down.

“The moment I find you, Lando, I’m going to skin you,” you hissed into your phone as you searched the paddock for the problem child.

But he only laughed at you, clearly enjoying the hide and seek game he had decided to play with you today. The problem is that he stopped in front of a camera, ready to give an interview, but two sentences in, his attention was diverted by some drama in the background, and he left to check it out. You had to apologize several times, promising to catch him and drag him back to do this properly. But damn it, he was good at hiding. This wasn’t the first time he hid from you, and something told you he could be literally anywhere, even in another team’s motorhome. Anything was possible with this little gremlin.

You reached a quieter part of the paddock that was full of spaces protected from the crowd, the perfect spot for Lando to hide. So, you methodically began to search for him, not missing any of the hidden corners and narrow alleys between the buildings either, but you found nothing. Your frustration was growing with each passing second, with each empty space that seemed to be free of him. When you reached the last one of the alleys, you saw movement in the back, and you were happy that you finally found the runaway driver.

Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. Because it wasn’t Lando, and it wasn’t just one person either. The signature blue and red colors of their shirts made it clear which team they were from, but when you looked at their faces, blood froze in your veins. You knew about all the jokes, all the fan theories and hopes, but never, not even in your wildest dreams could you imagine this happening. Sure, they clearly looked more at ease in each other’s company after sessions in recent years, which was good, people loved it, yet you still couldn’t wrap your head around the sight in front of you.

After seeing them almost swallow each other, Lestappen wasn’t just an urban legend to you anymore. Fuck. You wished you didn’t see that. You could already feel the heavy weight on your shoulder.

Before they could spot you, you decided to do the sensible thing and turned around to leave as quietly and as soon as you could. But not two steps later you heard a voice behind you. “Wait, let’s talk about this, okay?” Max said, taking a step closer to you, his hand resting on Charles’s arm.

Letting out the breath you’d been holding, you folded your hands behind your back and took a step closer to them. “I didn’t see anything, I swear. My lips are sealed, you don’t need to worry about that,” you were quick to assure them. Silence fell between the three of you, but then you remembered why you were here in the first place. “Have you guys seen Lando? He’s being difficult today.”

“Have you tried his driver’s room? He’s probably in the most obvious place,” Max offered, knowing the Brit well enough to give you his best guess.

Okay, you already knew he was smart, but this was the best idea you had heard in a while. Lando would surely pull something like this; chilling in his room, maybe playing some games, then giving you a surprised look as he went: “What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time!” Wouldn’t be the first prank he pulled on you, that’s for sure.

You thanked him, then turned to leave again, and this time they didn’t stop you. But you heard murmuring, a quiet conversation that didn’t sound panicked, in fact, it sounded like they were discussing something excitedly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t your business. None of this was your business, so you were trying your damn best to forget the whole thing.

The problems began the next day after qualifying, when you were in the media pen with Lando, watching him like a hawk, and shepherding him around to make sure he did exactly what he was supposed to. You were between two interviews, discussing a few things, when Max approached you and stopped next to you to talk to his friend. You greeted him like you normally would, but otherwise you didn’t dare to move or speak, afraid it would become obvious you were hiding something. It probably takes time to get comfortable with the secret you knew, it couldn’t be more than that.

But then you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body as Max casually put a hand on your back while he talked, making it look like it was just a friendly move and nothing more. How could this be an innocent move when you could feel his thumb pressing into your skin, drawing slow circles to drive you crazy? You glanced over at him, and you could have sworn you saw a smug smirk tugging at his lips for a moment when he felt your eyes on him.

Lando was oblivious to the whole scene, he was just smiling brightly and giggling as they talked, too lost in their conversation to notice the way the Red Bull driver teased you. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed the reporter you’d been waiting for signal you that they were ready for the chat with your driver, so you apologized for interrupting them, then gently pushed him in the right direction. This left you and Max alone, and he finally let his hand drop to his side as he turned to you, the mischievous glint in his eyes giving away that whatever he was about to say would make you mad.

“How does it feel to know?” he asked casually, sipping on his Red Bull as if you were talking about the weather. Your eyes turned to him, silently begging him to drop this topic, but he didn’t seem to be interested in letting you off the hook. “We talked last night, you know. It feels so good that someone apart from the two of us knows the truth. Seriously, it’s so tiring to hide from the whole world, not having the chance to talk about the highs and the lows or ask for an outsider’s opinion when there’s a fight or disagreement.”

At first, you were just the kind of friend they’d been waiting for, serving as a neutral outsider when they needed another opinion about something. Then you began to hang out with them, one at the time, eventually serving as a glue between the two rivals who hadn’t really been seen together outside the paddock. Because one day you followed a well-prepared choreography at a bistro, making it look like you were out with Charles, while Max jumped in to get some food to go. Then you noticed each other, started talking, and he ended up taking a seat and joining you for dinner.

The same thing happened a few weeks later, when you and Max went to a club, where surprise, surprise, Charles showed up to greet you. The three of you got comfortable on a curvy couch in a corner of the VIP section, downing shots like there was no tomorrow, too lost in your little bubble to notice what you were doing. Because Max had an arm around your shoulder, talking to you while Charles moved forward to capture your lips in a drunken kiss, and only then did you catch the Dutchman whisper into your ear how much fun the three of you could have if you went home with them that night.

You only realized their relationship turned into your relationship, when Lando asked you about a photo of the three of you hanging out in the paddock on a race weekend, chatting and joking freely over your breakfasts. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with them off the track too. Why don’t you ever hang out with me when you’re in Monaco? You’re so mean,” he said with a pout.

Friends. That’s what you were for outsiders. It was good. With the days spent together getting more frequent though, you knew it was only a matter of time before someone sniffed out the truth. All the nights spent tangled up in bed, with the two of them making a competition out of pulling as many orgasms out of you as they could, surely had a toll on you. Physically, you were more than okay, they made sure of that, but being in this relationship was surely difficult to handle mentally.

“I’m not hanging out with you, you muppet, because I might drown you in a glass of water after five minutes. Babysitting you on race weekends is more than enough, thank you,” you told him with your tongue stuck out.

This conversation made you think, it made you reconsider what you’d been doing in the past months with the boys. For one, it was a dangerous game. Hanging out together more and more, especially when you were at a place where they couldn’t keep themselves under control thanks to the level of alcohol in their bloodstreams, the risk of someone finding out their little secret was higher than before you had been dragged into their life. Then there was the fact that you felt like shit. It felt like you were a piece that didn’t fit. They were so good together, why would you stand between them?

You knew that ending a relationship in a text was the worst, but you didn’t want to give them the chance to start negotiating. So, after the race weekend was over, you sent them a text that you wouldn’t go with them this time, then left the group chat, blocked the both of them, and got on the plane back home. The plan was simple: you would spend a few days watching movies and TV shows that were in your backlog while eating unhealthy snacks, and maybe you would meet some of your friends if they still remembered you.

What could possibly go wrong with that?

Well, everything. It was only your first full day at home when your doorbell rang in the early afternoon, and when you opened it, you found a very disheveled Charles standing there, watching you with a disapproving look on his face. You were ready to tell him to leave you alone, but then he gave you the puppy eyes as he let out a tired sigh, and there was no way you could shut the door in his face. You stepped aside and let him in, stopping in the living room door as you watched him sit down on the couch, and when he patted the empty space next to him, you were stupid enough to do exactly what he wanted. If things went like this, you would agree to whatever he came up with. 

“Blocking us? Really?” he asked you, the hint of disappointment not missing from his voice. “You could’ve at least talked to us in person, give us a proper explanation instead of disappearing like that. What the hell were you thinking? We would meet at race weekends anyway, you can’t think we wouldn’t corner you there.”

Looking away, you gulped and thought about what to say. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many stupid, fake explanations for your decision, but deep inside you knew you had to be honest with him. “You were fine together, Charles. Before I found out the truth, you had everything under control, and you were happy. But then you dragged me into your little secret, eventually poisoning our so-called friendship with casual sex, and–”

“So-called friendship? And casual sex?” he asked, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyes narrowed as he watched you. “Did it ever mean anything to you?” 

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. You really liked them, but the fact their relationship had a lot more history always made you feel like someone who didn’t belong. To you it was casual, just an outlet for getting rid of all the stress your job and keeping their secret came with. Just sex, nothing more. No emotions were supposed to be involved. Sure, they were friends, but it wasn’t love.

Apparently, you were an open book to Charles, because he ran a hand through his hair with a groan as he watched you. “We trusted you.”

“You can still trust me, I won’t tell anyone,” you assured him. 

He let out a desperate laugh. “It’s not that kind of trust, we know you wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m talking about us, about our relationship. We thought you felt the same way we did, that you loved us too. You could’ve been honest, you could’ve told us it didn’t mean anything to you before we caught feelings,” he told you, his voice forced to stay calm. 

“Charles, just try to hear me out. The two of you, that’s the relationship that can work in the long term,” you began to explain. “Me? I’m just… I don’t even know what I was to you. A plaything? A brand new shiny toy?”

“You’re not some toy!” he snapped, finally showing you how he truly felt about this conversation. “You, Max, and me? This could work so well if you just stopped being stubborn. Okay, I admit, we never thought about the possibility of a relationship like this, we always thought it would be just the two of us, but that’s because we had to keep it a secret. But you finding us that day? That was the best thing that could happen to us. We love you just as much as we love each other, that’s what you need to understand,” he explained as he grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. 

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, but the way he was watching you, silently begging you to accept the truth… It was too much. Tears began to roll down your cheeks, but he wiped them away, he kept telling you that it was okay, that everything would be okay, and there was no reason to cry. He repeated this enough times to make you believe it. You were beginning to believe they truly loved you, and you actually thought about the possibility of continuing this from where you had left off. Once your tears stopped coming, he leaned in to kiss you with a small smile on his lips. 

His stupid green eyes were mesmerizing as he watched you, and no matter how hard you wanted to resist, how badly you wanted to be strong and step back, you just couldn’t get yourself to say no to him. Sadly, he was well aware of this ability of his, he had used it on both Max and you a few times before to get what he wanted, and this time he looked just as smug as he always did after a win. 

“Pack a suitcase, because you’re coming with me,” he whispered to you. “Until you get ready, I’ll call Max to tell him the good news.” 

You began to wonder how long it would take you to admit to yourself just how important they had always been to you. Because they were important, no matter how many times you told yourself this meant nothing to you, otherwise you wouldn't be in your bedroom now, packing the suitcase as he asked. You wanted to please him, you wanted them to be happy, and why would you feel this way if you were indifferent?

Maybe this time you would be able to let yourself go and enjoy the relationship, and you would finally believe this could work.

As you were thinking about this, your phone that you left on your nightstand began to vibrate and the screen lit up. You picked it up and saw a message from Lando: “Have you seen this? Max's jet is at an airport near you, but I know for a fact he's at home. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING????”

Okay, maybe letting yourself go wasn't an option.

[pellucid-constellations]

hi! If you’re still taking requests I would looooove some Az comforting the reader, maybe she’s having a bad day and is trying to play it off and tell everyone she’s ok but Az sees right through her and she ends up crying and he comforts her or something if you’re up for it. I love love love your writing by the way <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: A tiny bit of angsty thoughts

a/n: I loveeee hurt/comfort and this kind of took on a life of its own. Enjoy!!! Thanks for the request ❤️

____________________________________________

You could feel his eyes on you from across the room—calculating, contemplative, planning. You had been doing your best to ignore him for the better part of the evening, but his presence was hardly discrete as he stood strong and stiff in the corner. 

This day had been atrocious. 

You had woken up before dawn to begin preparations for the gala currently taking place, been screamed at by multiple vendors unhappy about their placements, got caught in the rain on your way around town, and barely had time to sit down before you were thrust into a chair and made to get ready for the night. 

And that was just today.

There had been pressure from all sides to find comradery between the courts after the war, and as an emissary to the night court and the one most familiar with each High Lord, you had been elected to carry out that task. A task that had taken weeks of bad days to come to fruition. 

To put it lightly, you were beaten down. 

“Perhaps you can speak to the High Lord about that, yes?” the Spring Court emissary drawled, an ending to the 20-minute speech you had hardly been listening to. 

You smiled anyway. “Oh yes, of course. Perhaps you could send me a follow-up correspondence in a few weeks to ensure I get your reply readily?” 

The emissary scoffed, looking you up and down with a cloistered sneer. “Can’t even keep track of little conversation? Typical. I guess I can send you a reminder, though…” 

The vicious man’s words began to bubble out of your mind, a low buzzing replacing the demeaning tone. You jutted your jaw to the side and pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back the burning in your waterline. 

This was exhausting and too much and was quickly becoming a thankless job. You had told Rhysand you were up to the feat, but you had not accounted for all of the screaming and complaining and belittling some of the courts seemed to favor. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel kick up from the wall. You threw him a watery, chastising look—knowing by the gleam in his eye that he was set to cause trouble with the man before you—but the Shadowsinger only raised a brow and tugged on the bond deep in your chest. 

Azriel had grown weary of your tired excuses and your half-hearted assurances that you were doing okay. It was obvious that every time you lied, he grew more impatient, more concerned. 

But you had to do this—for Rhysand, for Feyre, for the court. 

You hadn’t been able to fight in the war, so you could throw a simple gala and suck it up. 

Your mate stopped his approach, but you saw his jaw clench and his fingers roll up into his palm as the man only continued to drone on. 

“Do you think you could do that, then?” 

Shit. You had not been listening to a word he said, too concerned with Azriel’s thwarted approach. 

“I apologize,” you shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Could do what? It’s just so loud in here.” 

“Is this truly the best the night court has to offer?” 

That made the battle with your tears even more difficult. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat and tried to pretend you weren’t staving off a massive headache alone with it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. There is just much I have to do for the night and my mind is elsewhere—” 

“Thank you, Fike. You can send a letter addressed to the night court emissary when the night concludes,” Azriel cut in, interrupting the rough scratch of your voice. “It’s uncouth to speak so much of business at a party. And you are always so boring.” 

You heard the remnants of another scoff leave the Spring Court emissary's mouth, but Azriel was already guiding you out of the ballroom and into the hallway with a steady hand on your back. You took deep breaths as you went, your nose burning with the action. 

Get yourself together. You’re fine. A small issue in an otherwise—

Azriel hummed and pressed you against the wall of the hallway, quelling your rampant thoughts with the hand on your stomach. His other was pressed above your head, trapping you in an embrace, keeping only him in your eyeline. 

“You’re okay,” he comforted, taking exaggerated, deep breaths. “Just us here.”

You blinked and shook your head in quick succession. “No, I know, Az. I’m completely fine. I just needed to get away from Fike. I have to go back in.” 

“You are crying, my love.” Azriel brought his hand up from your stomach and brushed away tears you hadn’t felt fall. “You’re overwhelmed. I don’t know why you’ve put yourself under this much stress, but you need to stop for a moment.” 

“No. No, I'm okay. I’m not stressed. I don’t know what’s happening to me—why I’m crying. I feel fine.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched, grimacing as he watched your chest rise and fall unsteadily. “Y/n—” 

“It’s just a gala,” you affirmed, more tears falling with the quick flurry of your words. “Just a gala. I can do this one thing. You all fought in a war and you made me stay home. You could have died. I can host a stupid gala.” 

You furiously wiped at the wet tracks on your cheeks, brushing Azriel’s soft touch aside. But he only halted your movements, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Hey—hey. Don’t be so rough. Y/n, this is not a stupid gala. Look at me.” When you refused, Azriel released your wrist and tipped your chin up until you met his eye. He smiled despite the pain in your eyes. “There’s my girl.” 

And despite the pain, you huffed out a small laugh. 

Azriel would take it. He readied the spiel he’d been prepping since you began this venture. “This is not just a stupid gala and you didn't just stay home during the war.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your forehead, a pause he couldn’t help but take. “You protected everyone in the allied courts. You were our informant. You were winnowing so often you passed out, need I remind you.” 

“But I wasn’t—” 

“I don’t care if you weren’t fighting. What you did was just as valuable and you know that. Just as this gala is valuable to our peace. You are valuable.” 

Your face heated beneath his words, his body pressed to yours in the hallway as the gala continued on. 

“I need to be useful,” you admitted, after a pause. “This needed to be perfect.” 

“It is perfect, my love. My sweet mate. You need to take a rest. You’re breaking apart and I can’t stand to see you like this. Come here.” Azriel slotted your head in the bend between his shoulder and his neck, sliding his hands down your back until his wings came around as well. “Can I force you into bed? Just for an hour at most. I swear I’ll wake you up and we will come back down.” 

You made to move away from him in disbelief, still panicked at the idea of abandoning your work, but Azriel only held you tighter. 

“That wasn’t really a question.” 

And so Azriel took you to bed. 

[luvvyouforever]

show me what you got - logan howlett {wolverine} x reader

synopsis: logan and reader very clearly want each other, but neither will make a move. a certain plan sets that in action.

content: NSFW! minors dni. yearning. horny. rambling. logan being nervous. afab reader.

a/n: i don't really know where i was going with this. i was also kinda picturing cartoon x men living situation here! def not very canon compliant. but enjoy!

his breath is hot, ragged, and full of expletives slipping between his lips with every thrust. sweat beads around his hairline, drips down his temple, and leaves the prettiest shine on his tan skin. his hair is tousled, he's shirtless, and his muscles are tense beneath his skin.

"oh my god, lift up your jaw. i know he's hot but you're gonna swallow flies that way, hun."

rogue's voice enters your dazed reverie and brings you back into the reality: a sweaty gym in the x-men mansion. logan, only twenty feet in front of you, pulls on the handles of a machine set to the highest weight possible that pulls him forward and backward. it's supposed to work out his back, or maybe his chest, or maybe his arms. either way, it's sinful and becoming increasingly difficult to tear your eyes away.

he continues to grunt on the machine and you wonder if he's doing it on purpose when rogue speaks up again. "you need to do something about this."

you let out a laugh that's just a bit too loud and draws some of the eyes of the other x-men working out. red heat crawls up your neck and to your cheeks where it settles into a blush. turning around to face the other side of the gym, you whisper, "and what exactly am i supposed to do here?"

"i don't know. corner him, give him a big ol' smooch, and the rest will be history," rogue pauses. "i think. i'm not the best person to ask here," she says with a gesture to her gloved hands.

when you feel the heat leave your face, you turn back around to see that logan had moved from the original offending machine to an even more intolerable workout: bench presses. with urgent movements, you take rogue over to the yoga mats and begin your own personalized workout, all the while she laughs at your obvious and ever-growing frustration.

𝜗𝜚

logan wonders what it would be like to be standing behind you, pressed dangerously close to your backside as you bend over and place yourself into some yoga position he never bothered to learn the name of. the workout clothes you're wearing have always got under his skin and he knows this time is no different. he barely thinks about the weight of the bar he's lifting up and down as he watches your body flex into a position that places your body in such a divine arch he wishes he could be drawing out of you.

"not you too," gambit's voice comes from behind logan where he uselessly spots him. suddenly, logan falters with his grip on the bar and rather than let it fall on top of him, he sends it to the other side of the bench, just a few feet from where scott was doing squats with some fancy weights logan never bothered with.

"what do you mean 'not you too?'" logan questions.

gambit shakes his head and sits on the bench next to the one they were currently working out on. he fiddles with a card he seemed to pull out of nowhere, but logan ignored it. "gambit means that you two need to find a closet and get it over with."

logan huffs and shakes his head. "i dunno what you're talking about, cajun."

his eyes float back to your frame on the other side of the gym. much to his chagrin, you stopped your own workout and stretching in favor of assisting rogue into a complex position that was sure to send gambit to her side once the workout had come to a close. the words 'not you too' floated through his head once more and he turned to interrogate gambit once more only to find him moving on to another set in front of the mirror.

with a final glance back to you, he found you looking at him as well. briefly, your eyes met each other across the room then immediately went to the floor, pretending that the specks of dust were unbelievably interesting.

𝜗𝜚

charles believed that despite the mutations and responsibilities and missions, it was important for the x-men to have some kind of normalcy which led to frequent movie nights or parties or game nights. more often than not, logan spent those inside or sitting in a chair directly away from the other x-men. there was no particular reason, he was just always like that. solitary.

unfortunately, something seemed to be different for this particular movie night. when he arrived to the home theater in the basement of the mansion, every single seat was taken by one of the other x-men. the only other person who hadn't arrived was you.

his eyes fell to the loveseat that was empty toward the back of the room, where rarely any light except for the screen fell. he could hear an almost undetectable giggle come from rogue on the other side of the room and he knew something was up. had these not been unspokenly required, he would have turned around with the excuse of...something.

just as he climbed the few short steps to the loveseat and sat down, you walked in. his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you. a thin and old pajama top which hung off your shoulders at an angle adorned your top half while the bottom half was covered in pants that fell at your hips and hugged your legs as they went down. somehow this was worse than tight workout clothes.

just as he did, your eyes scanned the room for a seat before finding that the only one available was the other half of the loveseat that logan's body was currently occupying. without much thinking, your eyes flew to rogue who shrugged her shoulders despite you feeling as though this was planned.

with every inch you grew closer to being so close to logan, your heart rate increased, as did your nervousness. awkwardly, you sat down by him and could instantly feel the similar pulling in your chest that you felt when standing too close to him. the way his t-shirt hugged his chest and contoured to the fine muscles made you blink too fast.

once everyone was fully settled, charles put a movie on, something you didn't really remember the plot of, and with maximum effort, you kept your eyes glued to the screen.

logan did not have as easy of a time as you did. perhaps it was the way his senses were so increased from yours that you could barely keep still. it was either your thigh touching his own or your sweet smell infiltrating his nose or the way you couldn't hold your laughter at certain jokes in the movie which echoed through his ears into his mind. it was unbearable.

suddenly feeling eyes on him, his head whipped to the other side where gambit's eyes would flit to him every so often. when they made eye contact, gambit's eyebrow raised, which suggested the question to logan, "so?"

he shook his head to which gambit smiled, tilted his head to signal to your body next to his, and made some obscene gesture that had rogue smacking his hands down to his lap. logan sighed, shook his head, and returned his gaze back to the movie. he couldn't ignore it this time.

𝜗𝜚

once the movie ended, everyone retreated back to their respective spaces, except logan who lingered around the mansion. going back to his bedroom didn't feel favorable. after spending so long alive, chasing after what he wanted, he felt stupid letting you continue to walk past him, in the clothes that made him frustrated with a personality that melted his heart. he didn't want to go back into his bedroom where he would more than likely jerk off to thoughts of you so perfect they could become painful. he would have a dream about you, wake up wondering if today is the day he kisses you finally, then look at you at the breakfast table and know that this wasn't the day.

before he could stop his own body, his legs took him up the stairs toward your bedroom at the end of the hallway.

you hadn't been doing anything after the movie except for thinking of the way your thigh was touching logan's and his breath was deep and he was warm and a strong presence next to your frame. with nothing on but a yellow lamp, you reached over to your bedside drawer before a knock echoed through the room.

with a huff, you rose up and went over to the door. when you opened up, you could've jumped back in surprise at the figure on the other side of the door. logan was standing in the same t-shirt and sweatpants as earlier, but this time he looked slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through his hair.

"hey, logan," you said hesitantly.

suddenly, he regretted coming to your door. it wasn't that he didn't want you, but having you in front of him with your smell invading his nose and your cheeks flushed and your hair messy from laying down was intoxicating.

"hey," was all he said.

the air was awkward and tense. logan's chest heaved up and down from his attempts to steady his breathing. absentmindedly, you played with a thread at the hem of your top.

"did you...need something?" you asked.

"can i come in?" he blurted out.

you nodded, held the door wide open, and scooted to the side of it. he stepped over the threshold, carefully avoiding anything he might knock over or ruin. for him, it seemed, one wrong step could lead to your entire room coming down in one fell swoop.

as if being in your presence was not difficult enough, being in your room was a trial. everything was so you. your clothes to the left of him, your posters to the right. your perfume and body wash lingering in the air. his eyes didn't know where to go so they landed on you in front of him.

"so, uh...did you like the movie tonight?" you asked in an attempt to make conversation. he shifted on his feet. "oh, come here. you can sit down if you wanna." your hand gestured for him to follow you to your bed. despite his brain telling him not to go, his legs moved and then he found himself sitting on your bed, looking down at you.

he blinked, suddenly forgetting your question. what was he going to do here? he came with no purpose, no plan, no intention. obviously he couldn't kiss you right there. he couldn't push you down and run his hands along the sides of your body like he dreamed about for so long. no matter how bad he wanted to be between your legs, using his mouth to draw pretty moans out of you and bring your back up from the bed, and hear his name tumble out of your mouth like a prayer-

"logan?" his head snapped to you. the corners of your lips were upturned into a half smile. "did you hear me?"

"no, sorry. what'd you say?" he asked.

with an almost imperceptible scoot closer to him, you looked up into his brown eyes. there was something in yours that he felt resembled desire, but it couldn't be. there was no way you were having those similar dirty thoughts to him.

"i asked if you came here to kiss me."

his heart could've slipped out from its cavity, down through his stomach, and out through his ass.

"because if so, then you might want to go ahead and do it because it's almost time for me to go to bed."

logan didn't have to hear many more words over that. his hands flew to your sides like he had wanted them to for months. with uncharacteristic gentless, he guided you to lay down on the bed. a smile grew on your lips at his closeness and his touch. yes, this was much better than your original plans for the night.

"so, you've been thinking about me too?" logan asked, just a few inches from your lips.

the blush that he so often thought about in his dreams crept back to your cheeks. "of course i have. i was just waiting on you to take charge," you teased. your hand made its way to his chest where it rubbed along the skin, then up to his neck where it rested carefully, right over his pulse point. you could feel it pick up when your other hand made contact with his waist.

logan chuckled at that. "and to think i was gonna go spend the rest of the night in my bedroom after being so unbearably close to you all night."

"i'm glad you came over finally," you said. after a pause, "i think rogue and gambit might've been getting tired of this too."

"they're about to get a lot more tired of us when i'm done with you tonight." with that, logan's lips came down to yours where they met in a crushing kiss. it was messy, but conveyed the months of ache and yearning for each other. teeth clashed at moments, and only when the annoying need to breathe came forward did you pull apart.

"show me what you got, howlett," you said in response to his earlier comment after taking a breath.

in seconds, logan had his tight t-shirt off, along with his sweatpants. everything that had once been scandalous to watch from a distance was now in your hand. perhaps the whole loveseat plan, no matter the annoyance it brought on originally, was an ingenious idea.

𝜗𝜚

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

NEXT CHAPTER

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@emotionalcadaver

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

@kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

[galaxy-fleur]

hii! so, i saw your post about leon smut headcanons and i kinda loved it! can you make one for chris too? thank you <3

I love a good opportunity to think about Chris... Wrote this with post re6 and onwards Chris in mind!

In my head, Chris' libido has always been a bit on the lower side, though I do think it gets significantly better once he works through his issues that were plaguing him during re6. He's obviously in a way better place mentally, and his sex life is a perfect reflection of that. He likes to have sex with his partner maybe once or twice a week, but it's usually a lengthy and intense fucking session. You could even crack a joke that he's just charging up his inner battery before going at it with you, though he won't be very amused (he totally will).

Every choice Chris takes, no matter how tiny, is weighed down by a great deal of obligations and expectations. He doesn't regret choosing this life for himself. It goes without saying, though, that carrying this great load of responsibility all the time is exhausting.

Sex is, in a sense, both his comfort and outlet. Nothing compares to returning home from a long, demanding day and losing himself in your shared touch and pleasure until his brain is blissfully empty. Maybe that's why he likes to do it methodically and slowly. He gives you everything he has, just like he does in his career. He is devoted and enthusiastic. Not to sound too sappy, but having sex with him always reminds you why you fell for this man in the first place.

In terms of his tastes, I believe he would be quite skilled at using his hands to satisfy his partner. And I mean every part of his hands. Biceps, palms, fingers - everything. There's just something about using these hands of his that are usually meant for holding weapons and inflicting damage for something else that makes you both feel good. It just... flips a certain switch in his brain.

Needless to say, he touches you constantly. Be it gentle caresses over the contours of your figure or fervent groping at any flesh his greedy fingers can reach. He needs to have his hands on you and feel the warmth of your body under his palms. Getting you off with one hand while keeping your back flush against his chest with the other, his mouth swallowing up all of your beautiful sounds, is probably one of his favorite things to do. There's nothing more satisfying to him than feeling you being totally ensnared by him.

If you're into that, and you are okay with it, I do see him finding a certain thrill in putting you in a headlock, too. It'd be painfully obvious that he's holding back on you, though. Almost funnily so, because at first, he'll barely put any pressure at all. He simply does not wish to cause you any harm, bless his heart. It's sweet of him to care. He won't complain, though, if you're all for being smothered by those biceps of his.

I do not see Chris as a rough sex-partner per se, but his size and strength sort of give off that impression once he gets real into it. However, before engaging in any actual fucking, he always makes sure you're nice and lubricated, whether it's by natural means, or with the help of some lubricant. He knows that he's big. He's honestly more embarrassed than proud of it. So be sure to give him lots of compliments! Having said that, I do believe he has a slight praise kink. On the receiving end. Even though Chris normally takes the lead, a few tender kisses and sincere compliments from you will quickly make his knees buckle and his breath hitch. So... that's something you can take advantage of whenever you feel like it.

I would say that his favorite positions are face-off and doggie, as well as good old missionary. After a difficult week or two, doggy is a terrific way to relieve stress and release all of his pent-up energy. But as you go at it, it usually becomes a pinned doggy. He just can't help but want to be close to you. Conversely, face-off is for more intimate, slower, and emotionally charged sex. Primarily when he needs some consolation. It's a bit unconventional, but I see a lot of meaningful conversations occurring during or after that type of sex with him.

He's louder than you might imagine when it comes to how vocal he is. He rarely full-on moans, but what he does a lot is groan. And he groans pretty loudly. It's a very hot thing to have him pant, huff, and rumble into your ear because his voice just naturally becomes deeper and raspier when lust clouds his head. He usually cums with a broken gasp, throwing his head back. An absolutely stunning sight to behold, and a terrific incentive for you to spoil him by sucking him off, but I'm getting off topic. He's also the type to talk during sex, oddly enough. Not even dirty talk, but actual conversation.

It's a weird quirk, and it sure can get annoying when he's actively thrusting in and out of you, and then starts talking to you about what happened at work earlier. With that, he's a bit of a weirdball. Still, off-topic discussions aside, he's big on communicating, so it's not all bad. He can and does say fitting things too! He's very prone to talking you through it, so speak.

You can expect him to say something like: 'I've been thinking about this all day... Coming home to you, having you like this.' 'Are you close? Yeah, I know, I got you. Just look at me, will you? Just like that. Perfect.'

Chris pays close attention to aftercare as well. Usually asks you a few questions to see if you're sore or uncomfortable anywhere, and takes care of you if needed. Before cleaning himself, he always makes sure to clean you off first. Huge on cuddles after sex. He loves it more than anything else. Simply to keep you close to his chest once your sexy time is over. The fact that he's like a big, cozy teddy bear for you to snuggle with is definitely a pleasant bonus. Always prepares your breakfast the next day, even when he has to leave. You need to get your strength back! Or so he claims. He really just does it as a thank-you.

[hanaruri-tunes]

Your latest HC post got me thinking. Do you think the bros ever tried to give MC some food or drink that had their “essence” in it? Maybe they’d also kick back and watch as MC slowly becomes addicted to it, wanting more as the days go by and probably begging to know what’s in it so they can recreate that delectable treat they gave.

Oh my god wudhydsjhf I didn't even think about that but yeah, each demon in the devildom is probably well-aware of the properties of their semen so they can in fact use it as "enhancement" on food. Pretty evil. Okay really REALLY quick and short headcanons on that idea, based on my earlier headcanons of course:

Lucifer

Has definitely thought about it but he feels like doing this would be "stooping too low" and it's not "classy" to use such a tactic to win you over, because yes the avatar of pride has SOME standards. But I can definitely imagine that once you're in a relationship with him he would let you taste some of his "essence" in food. THOUGH TO BE CLEAR he makes you aware of it, like, he warns you so you know beforehand what's in the food.

Mammon

Also has definitely thought about it but he feels too guilty to do that to you. Even if he does end up putting some of it into your food of drinks he always chickens out at the last moment with a dumb excuse like "oh the choco milk is probably too cold already, I'll bring you another cup NO- t-this cup's no good forget it, don't even take a sip of it-"

Leviathan

Similar to Mammon (as in, he feels guilty) but his inherent possessiveness over you wins over and he swallows back his guilt and shame (also, if you find out you'll definitely mock him for it which he looks forward to.) Not like you will though since his semen has hypnotic side-effects, he'll ask for things from you like flashing your panties at him or hugging him or whatever then he'll make you forget any of it happened because he's a coward haha.

Satan

Hmm he's a difficult one to grasp for me- But I suppose the idea would cross his mind though he'll never act upon it. He'll imagine it for sure but even if demon seeds taste good and aren't all that "dangerous" to consume, making you drink something that came from him without your knowledge doesn't sit well with him. If you ever do it, he wants you to drink it because you want to while exactly knowning what's inside the cup.

Asmo

Zero shame, zero guilt. Tries to do it at every occasion he gets but you (and the brothers) are already well aware of his intentions so you're not allowed to drink anything that Asmo has supposedly "prepared". Of course the reason why they're so protective is because he has already succeeded a couple of times in the past and your face looks way too cute under his seed's influence. The aphrodisiac aspect of it being way too strong and overkill it gets everyone too hot and bothered while looking at you, it's almost painful for them to see you in that state without being able to act upon their desires in front of the rest of their brothers.

Beel

To be completely honest I don't even think the thought would cross his mind djshdjz. It probably only would once you guys are deep in a relationshio and having sex, since he has tasted you and liked it he suddenly realizes he can "feed" you as well. "Oh- did I ever tell you that demons' semen have special tastes and side-effects? Would you like to try?" He's pretty genuine about it, no ulterior motives. Just wants to "feed" you.

Belphie

This little fucker is the most devious little shit ever. EVERYTIME he's on cooking duty he does it. Since I headcanon that his have hallucinogen effects, at first no one exactly knows what's wrong with the food. With Asmo it was obvious since his aphrodisiac effect is 100% straightforward: pure pleasure. But Belphie? Might as well be slipping drugs in there dryjghfhd ANYWAY, he loves seeing you confused or impressed, a bit lost in your magical "daydreams". You start to like it and even praise his cooking not knowing how the hell he does that (you assume he just applies some sort of spell on the food.) But once the brothers find out/understand what he does to you, they're furious, and Belphie is banned from cooking duty which was probably about 30% of the reason why he started putting his juices there in the first place djhehdhz

[icallhimjoey]

AAHH my favorite bitch back at it again! This will be a 5 chapter fic, correct? Because we best make him the FILTHIEST of martinis that makes him drop to his knees and kiss the floor we spill drinks on walk on. He better recognize we are more than just cute 😤😤😤

well, best we can do is TRY, isn't it? And that is, if Martin will let us... Wordcount: 3.7K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Surprise, surprise. Look who's back again. For the, what, fifth time this week, is it?”

“That’s... that’s no way to speak to a customer.”

You let your mouth smile so hard, it made your sarcastic eyes disappear entirely.

“What can I get you?”

“Oh, that’s all right, I think...” Joe started, and Martin reached to place a drink down on the bar where Joe would usually sit. Joe pointed at it for you to see, like you were dumb to even suggest you had to take his order. “I’ve already got one waiting. But thank you. Next time.”

Disrespectful idiot.

You didn’t like Joe.

You did. You liked Joe a lot. But you didn't like him, you know?

It had been a few weeks of this now, and the comments had become more and more biting. Always said with smiles – ones that didn’t reach your eyes, nor his. Never mean or actually bitter, but there was definitely a “you suck at this job you stupid cow” vibe coming from him, and a “you come here too often you sad sack of shit” vibe coming from you.

It made Martin bite away sly smirks and swallow his obvious laughter when he witnessed you interact with each other.

You just didn’t like how Joe seemed to act like he was above you in this bar, even though he didn’t even work there. Only vaguely knew the manager. Came in a couple nights a week, mostly by himself because he didn’t have any friends.

You didn’t know if that was true, but who the fuck spends hours in a bar by himself if they have actual friends to hang out with, you know? Man was a loner. A real loser.

Shame he looked so good. And shame that it always made your heart beat faster when you saw him walk in every couple of days. You’d tell it, fucking knock it off with the palpitations, I don’t have time for this shit, he called us inadequate, you stupid bitch.

Cute too, sure. He had called you cute as well. It was why he made you blush just by looking at you.

But he’d wished Martin good luck with that one and he obviously had meant you. So you didn’t like Joe. Even though you did. And even though he’d been right.

Because Martin really did need good luck with this one, you thought, mentally pointing a fat thumb at yourself. Martin hadn’t called you inadequate to your face, yet, but… the message was clear.

No one else got told to just go sit and to closely watch what he did. See how he made drinks. Learn from what you could observe. 

Martin had said it all politely, but had grabbed onto you by the shoulders and steered you around the bar without any hesitation. Gestured at the barstools there and… you were a little dumbfounded at first. 

“Just... so I just sit…? And watch?”  

“It’s a little too busy to have so many bodies behind the bar.” 

You were in everyone’s way a lot, is what he meant.

James had shoved you aside more than once and had dropped a bottle of sticky syrup when he bumped into you. Somehow that was your fault. You’d been standing in a spot you weren’t meant to be standing, because apparently you had to by now be able to anticipate his every next step all night long.  

You sat down closest to Martin’s station.  

Decided if you were going to be tasked to watch and learn, you might as well watch and learn from the best.  

It had been three days since you’d been called cute by a stranger and three days of trying to mix the perfect dirty martini.  

And it really shouldn’t be so difficult. You knew the steps. You knew what went into the glass. You could do everything exactly the same as Martin would do it, but somehow, you thought it always didn’t come out right.  

Martin said yours was good. Had tasted the dirty martini you’d mixed before opening just to show him you knew exactly how now, and he’d said, “Yea. Good. So that’s one drink down.”  

Only thirteen more to master from the current menu.  

And then whatever other random off menu drinks people would ask for. Like frozen cocktails that weren’t on the menu. But there was blender behind the bar, and people would go, “I see you have a blender, can I have this drink, but have it frozen, please?” and Chloé would tell them, of course! And then would have you try your hand at it. 

You weren’t sure if she was giving you the orders she knew you were going to fuck up just to mess with you.  

But you were kind of fucking everything up, off menu or not, so, probably not. It was likely more an issue of incapability on your end than a malicious thing on hers.  

Martin made you sit and watch him, and after a little while, he passed you a little notepad and a pen. It was weird to have someone rest their head on two stacked fists on the bar all night. Taking notes made it look like you were actually doing something. So Martin started giving instructions on what he was doing whenever he could, whenever he felt he had the time to do so, to give you things to write down.  

He didn’t have a lot of time to do so, though, so you just started writing down what you saw. Wrote down ingredients. Step by step instructions. Utensils and glassware used. 

You had to be quick though. 

Martin was fast.  

You had to keep eyes on his hands and hope that what you were writing down was still readable after.  

In your focus, you hadn’t noticed that someone sat down next to you. 

Someone who now had to sit at the long end of the bar, cringe, eyeroll, so very annoying, because you so happened to have taken the seat he’d usually occupy.  

Joe sat down and sort of watched you for a little bit. Looked at what you were doing. Puzzled together why you weren’t behind the bar doing your job, or trying to do so at least, and instead hogged his favourite seat.

He saw how you didn’t break eye-contact with Martin’s hands and chuckled to himself when he saw your handwriting.

There was no way you’d be able to decipher that. Didn’t even look like you were writing down words.

He looked on as your pen slipped off the paper and left a mark on the bar. 

“Careful, that’s the end of the note right there,” Joe said, condescending, too late to actually be helpful.  

You rubbed at it with a finger and quickly got your eyes back on Martin. 

You’d missed a step. 

Shit.  

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to pay attention because,” you paused, wrote down what Martin did with some lemon zest.  

“Because…” Joe egged you on. 

“Because apparently, I can’t mix my cocktails right.”  

“Oh,” you heard next to you as you watched Martin finish the drink, followed by, “So, you’re aware?” 

Hm?

What the fuck? 

You frowned as you looked down at your note and tried to process if what you just heard had been right. Then you slowly looked up, eyes first, then your head followed, and, oh no, this was the guy.

There wasn’t even time to think of a smart comeback quick enough, because the realization immediately made you move onto different things.

“Dirty martini!” you exclaimed, eyes wide, and you immediately got up. Well. You tried to immediately get up. The barstool scraped against the floor loudly, but it didn’t move back far enough, and you got caught between the chair and the bar and it made your tits land on the edge awkwardly before you turned and let your feet find the floor properly.

The whole scuffle of it made the little smile on his face break into an actual laugh.

“Careful,” Joe laughed as he hovered a hand near you that did nothing, all pretend helpful.

But the second you were off the seat, you got instructions to get back on.

“Sit back down.” Martin said, eyes not even on you, and it was stupid how quick you climbed back onto the seat again. It was also stupid how you were legitimately proud of yourself for succeeding at something Martin asked of you.

“This one’s for Joe,” Martin said as he placed the drink he’d just finished right in front of this guy. Joe, you’d just learnt. “But you can get him a dirty martini next if he’ll have one.”

Martin looked at you like you were a child, eyebrows raised up high on his forehead, and then when he turned to Joe, he broke into a grin. It felt like it was a smile that made fun of you a little, but then he said, “Let me know what you think, I need to sort the Christmas menu.” and you hadn’t even considered the menu changing soon.

Fuck.

That meant there were more drinks you were going to have to learn how to make. Things with seasonal ingredients. Things that were more festive. Things that included fire maybe, and you weren’t ready to light yourself on fire. You weren’t ready to see the horrified reflection of your hairdresser in the mirror as you explained that it was just an accident, and could she please fix it because you had a big New Year’s Eve party to attend soon?

 You didn’t get to make Joe his dirty martini that night.

Or the next time he came in.

Or the time after that.

Instead, you got to listen to him wince, hiss and then laugh when you dropped a full tray of drinks over yourself before you could even step around the bar to bring them over to the right table.

Instead, you got to see him hide a giggle when you held a bit of orange peel the wrong way when you squeezed it over a drink, spraying the juice right into your eyes.

Instead, you got to see how he seemed playfully impressed when you bit back at a comment Chloé made about you needing to get out of the way after she bumped her hip into you, and you’d said that it wasn’t your fault she had a fat arse.

When you looked at him though, he’d pretended to be absolutely scandalized. Like he was on her side for it. Like he was about to go, "Are you just going to take that, Chlo?" and egg this on.

When he didn't see you look, you'd seen him smile softly to himself and, you know what, he could actually piss off for real, who did he think he even was in the first place?

You’d apologized to Chloé immediately after, terrified Chloé would be offended, mortified you’d started an actual fight, but you’d seen a flicker of joy across her face, and you had felt comfortable enough to show a little of a smile in return. Felt like the first little bit of acceptance, of you speaking her language, and all it took was a little gas to the fire.

Instead of getting to make Joe a dirty martini, Martin made you do a million other things. He had you take peoples orders, had you learn how to close the bar to make opening easy and efficient the next day, had you prep ingredients the correct way, and had you do mundane shit like cleaning floors, tables, toilets, et cetera, et cetera.

You basically got to do anything but make drinks.

And Joe was the type of person to give you tips from where he was sat. Unwelcome shit. Things like, “Missed a spot here,” when you would wipe down the bar, or, “That table has been waiting for ages,” when you were just about to go over to take their order.

But Joe was a guest, and you were meant to be friendly and polite.

So you’d smile your most inauthentic smile and would tell him thanks in your flattest voice.

It always made him laugh.

Which, in turn, always made Martin smile.

Weird how that worked.

“Good evening,” you’d tell Joe when you’d see him walk in, all exaggerated faux politeness which he easily accepted from you. Before he’d even be able to go and sit down, before the coat was even off, you’d raise your pen to your pad and would ask, “What can I get you?”

And Joe’d just smile, like he couldn’t help the grin, and then he’d nod his head down, scrunch up his nose and point towards the bar before walking over to where he always sat. Where he’d take his coat off and reveal he was wearing a shirt with the first three buttons undone, sometimes even four, showing off literal cleavage. You didn’t need to get him anything. He’d get whatever Martin was already loudly shaking in his shaker.

It felt a little like you were put on the bench. By Martin. By Joe. Like you got to be a part of the football team, but didn’t actually get to play at all.

Didn’t get to take Joe’s order.

Didn’t get to make any drinks.

After a few shifts like that, James took pity on you, and when Martin left him in charge for the rest of the night, he’d given you an order to make.

Fuck yes.

Excellent.

And Joe was there, too!

Maybe if you did this right, James wouldn’t bat an eye if you just started on a dirty martini after, to slide over to Joe and to do what Martin always did. Ask him what he thought of it. Ask him to give a lengthy review which you knew was going to be nice words only, topped off by the satisfaction you’d get from him expecting the worst and then tasting the best.

You wanted to see that face. Feel it in your bones.

The Simon-Cowell-watching-Susan-Boyle-for-the-first-time face.

But then you didn’t do it right, did you?

You poured all liquids into the cocktail shaker and closed it properly, like you’d been shown how, but, you weren’t meant to put all liquids into the shaker, were you?

You were meant to keep the carbonated drink to the side and add that directly to the glass after you’d mixed the rest of it.

You only shook it twice.

Maybe three good, violent times, to really get the ice to rattle.

The cocktail shaker exploded in your hands.

You gasped as the cold drink hit your front, and stood there, frozen as the drink dripped down your face.

You saw Joe very slowly reach and wipe underneath his eye with his middle finger as he rapidly blinked, like a little drop had made it onto his face.

There was no way any of that had gotten onto him, but the fact that he pretended that it did was just as infuriating as it was embarrassing.

James and Chloé stood there frozen also, until James reached for a dishtowel and hit you in the face with it.

“I think maybe Frank needs help,” he had then said after you’d finished cleaning, and were sent upstairs to join Frank by the door.

Not the worst job.

Frank was nice, didn’t mind a break from playing solitaire on his phone for a chat, but... joining Frank by the entrance was the bar equivalent of being put on time out, and Frank knew it too.

When he saw you come into view as you dragged your feet up the stairs to where he was sat, he smiled and said, “What’d you do this time?”

You plonked onto the barstool next to him in the small little hallway and sighed as you leant back against the wall.

“Put fizzy drink into a shaker.”

You bonked your head against the wall behind you, once, twice, three times.

“Shook it.”

Frank huffed a laugh, said, “Nice.” and got back to his game on his phone.

“When do you think I'll get fired?” you asked jokingly.

“Hmm, a week, give or take.” Frank answered, eyes on his phone, and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Nice.”

As the night came to a close, you saw people out along with Frank. Opened the door for them. Wished them a lovely rest of their night.

Just when you thought you might as well go down to help James and Chloé with closing, the both of them came up the stairs, talking, laughing, both in their coats already.

“Hey, what’s...” you faltered, confused. There was no way they’d actually finished already.

“We’ve done most, you’ll be fine finishing up, yea?” Chloé asked. It wasn’t a question for you to answer though. She was already standing outside when James tried to give you some last instructions.

“Use the key in the cash register, leave it in the letterbox after locking up.”

You just looked at him. Blinked a few times, because, were you allowed to do this on your own? Would Martin be okay with you closing the place by yourself?

“You got this!” James smiled, and you knew it was just that he was happy to be fucking off early for once.

When the heavy door fell shut behind them, you stared at it a second before you huffed a humourless laugh.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I still got half an hour on my clock,” Frank said after checking. “Do you need any help?”

You considered it for a moment.

“That's kind of you, but... I actually don’t, thanks.”

You didn’t.

Martin had practically let you close on your own before. He’d just been sat at the bar whilst you worked around him, big grey folder opened and pen in hand, doing whatever admin needed doing.

“Join them. Have a... somewhat early night.”

It was late.

“You sure? Can’t place blame with me for anything if I’m not around.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “I’ll be fine.”

You said goodbye to Frank, closed the door behind him and sighed.

Fine.

This was fine. You could close by yourself. Lock up by yourself. You’d be there for opening the next day anyway, so if you were to leave anything undone, you’d be able to pick up where you left off, stepping on your own toes, no one else’s.

You made your way back down the stairs.

Around the corner. 

Past the toilets.

Down the dark hallway. 

Into the bar, where... there was loud music playing. Loud music.

When you stepped inside, you were fully expecting to be alone but then realised: you'd not said goodbye to Joe yet.

And there he was.

Behind the bar.

Hands near the sound system, like he was trying to figure out how to use it. The song skipped to the next one, and Joe clapped his hands together once before he held both arms out wide as he spun around.

Teeth bitten into his lip, he made eye-contact with you near the entrance and... danced. Did a stupid hip and shoulder shake to the beat before he clapped in his hands again.

You frowned, loudly shouted, “Guests aren’t allowed behind the bar!” as you made you way over.

Joe completely ignored you. Got really into his old-man-at-wedding dance as he lipsynced along, all playful, all goofy.

When you were close enough, he grabbed a wet dishcloth and was about to throw it over. He waited for you to hold you hands up, to get ready to catch it, but you just said, “Yea, great, the tables probably still need doing, thanks.” as you slapped him on the shoulder, passing behind him to get to work behind the bar.

Not before you changed the song to something you liked, asserting power over Joe, because you worked here. Not Joe.

He could treat this place like a second home all he wanted.

You were closing the bar, so you got to choose the music.

And you expected to turn back around and see Joe get into his coat, dishcloth abandoned on the side.

You expected an overdone smile, a snarky comment, a mocking smile with narrowed eyes as he’d insincerely wish you good luck.

You expected to have to go and look to see if Joe paid for this drinks.

You expected he probably hadn’t, because by now you’d clocked in on this weird agreement Martin and Joe had, but you were going to make him pay regardless.

What you weren’t expecting was to turn back around and to see Joe bent over a table, hips wiggling as he wiped it down, focussing on a seemingly extra sticky bit, mouth pouted and brow furrowed.

Oh shit.

You didn’t like how that worked something in the pit of your stomach.

You also didn’t like how you watched Joe clean a few tables and then saw him catch you staring.

You snapped out of it and pretended you dropped something, just so you could duck down behind the bar for a second.

When you got back up, Joe had moved on to do more tables, and you were glad that he ignored the staring. He could’ve absolutely made a sassy comment to embarrass you, but he’d chosen peace over violence tonight, so it seemed.

Dirty martini.

Yes.

A filthy one.

You could make him a dirty martini as a silent thank you, because there was not a chance you were going to say those words aloud.

Just make one and then leave it out on the bar for him to find as you cleaned up behind the bar so you could pretend you didn’t even care if he liked it or not. Be all casual about it.

But then Joe looked up at you again, and a small smile grew into a wider one and there was no way he wasn’t going to slag you off for something, so you abandoned all plans and just... went for it. Asked him in an almost challenging way, no smile to be detected, with eyebrows slightly raised,

“Dirty martini?”

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[midnight-black2]

prompt 4 for jann?

He and reader both attend gt academy and he has a crush on them. Reader becomes very close with matty which leads to him and jann fighting over them and reader showing jann who they really want^^

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘

pairing : jann mardenborough x reader

synopsis : what the req saysss

disclaimers : sub!jann, dom!reader, palming, jealousy, teasing, etc (NOT FULL SMUT!!)

note : i just now realized that i didn't actually include the prompt quote, but just know that it's obviously still based off of the prompt. also, this is like a lime, so it's not full smut, sorry if you wanted that! if you did, you can request a part two, but i just left it at a makeout sesh that eludes to smut, lol

jann hated matty.

he hated the way matty spoke, all cocky with an edge to every end of a sentence. he hated the way he walked, head held high with such unnecessary confidence. but most of all...

...he hated the way you liked matty so much. always saying things like "he's really quite nice once you get to know him." and as much as jann despised it, he knew he couldnt really stop you. hell, he probably wouldn't even try to. but god did it get under his skin when you and matty would laugh together, looking like you were having the time of your lives.

"no no, i'm serious!" you exclaimed, before leaning back in and whispering something in mattys ear. something secretive. a secret. why could you tell marty secrets? why couldnt jann be in mattys place right now? why did jann have this undeniable stabbing pain in his chest watching the two of you from afar?

"you can't be," matty said, furrowing his brows with a smirk. you shrugged. jann and matty made eye contact, and mattys smirk only grew, it was like he knew what he was doing, which made jann only angrier.

it's not like jann knew what you and matty were talking about, and it might have done him more good if he would have listened. then he would've realized you guys were talking about him. how you had a crush on him, and how you were preparing to tell him. but it was only until jann was standing in front of you, asking just what it is you were whispering in mattys ear and giggling about that he became aware.

"the conversation wasn't much," you replied, absentmindedly. you wanted to wait until the right moment to truly fess up, but he was making it rather difficult.

"it didn't seem like it," he said, under his breath, swallowing hard. he regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. however, there was no going back.

"fine, if you really want to know, i was telling him about how much i like you, jann," you said, with a sigh. sure, you could sense his jealousy from a mile away. you didn't ever think he'd do something about it, though. now, he was proving you wrong. his eyes widened, as he froze. his mouth opened, then closed. he wanted to say something, but he felt like he didn't have the right to.

"Y/N-i... i didn't know i'm sorry i just-" you cut him off with a snort.

"it's all good, jann. i won't hold it against you or anything. but, why were you so annoyed by me hanging out with matty anyway?" you asked, trying to suppress your growing smirk. he looked down, with a hoarse chuckle. the situation was ironic, surely.

"because i like you too," he uttered, anxiously. even though you had already said how you felt, he couldn't help but be exponentially nervous. it was just-- you. no other thoughts apart from you and driving consumed him. those were the two most important things to him. of course you made him nervous. you grinned complacently.

"i know."

"you...do?" he questioned, looking back up and facing you. his brows were furrowed, and you laughed.

"i've known since the start."

"it could not have been that obvious," he said, with a defeated chuckle. he tried defending himself, but to no avail.

"oh trust me, it most definitely was," you answered. "...so now do you believe that it's you that i want?"

"well yeah, i mean you've said it but..." he trailed off. he didn't know how he intended to finish that sentence. he also couldnt find the courage to finish it, anyway.

"let me prove it to you."

"how?" he asked, voice shaky and uncertain. he maybe had a clue of what you were suggesting. maybe.

"follow me, and you'll find out," you said, gesturing for him to do just that. so, he did. he was too curious not to. you both went to the sleeping quarters, which currently were unoccupied since everyone was out training. you urged him to sit down on your bed, and he complied. you then sat down next to him.

"i think it's really ridiculous that you couldnt see how much i do like you, jann," you said, as you intently looked in his eyes, awaiting a response.

"im sorry. i didn't think i could be so dense," he said, with a breathy laugh. his eyes flickered to your lips. it was a split second, but it was noticeable enough. you leaned in slightly, and he felt this sort of magnetic pull to do the same. there was only a breath between you, as your lips grazed against his. you sealed the gap, finally. lips moving in sync, perfectly harmonious with one another.

your hand cupped his cheek, as he rested his hand on your waist. you both started to kiss each other with fervor. when you eventually pulled away, the two of you were breathless. his grasp on your hip tightened as he desperately attempted to ground himself. there was no way this was happening...--no, it was. it was definitely happening. because when you crashed your lips back on his, and slipped your tongue inside his mouth, and lied him down and hovered over top of him, he felt it all crash at him at once, like a big wave. his head was reeling.

"do you want this?" you mumbled against his lips. he nodded eagerly, and you found it entirely amusing. "i need your words, jann."

"please," he begged. that was all you needed, before your hand trailed down his body. you reached the part of him that ached for you. you started palming him over his clothing. he whimpered softly, shifting and writhing beneath you.

well, let's simply say you guys had a lot of fun that day.

╰┈➤ uh oh, cliffhanger! might post a pt.2 sometime, idk

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐤𝐲𝐚-𝐢𝐬-𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲? 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

[leggerefiore]

just embracing it at this point, lads

cw: fluff, slight confessions, cuddling, based on original animal crossing

pairing: Tom Nook/Reader

It was difficult to resist the big eyes of the little tanuki whom you had grown close to. When Nook had threatened you with his goons jokingly after you finished working for him, you had truly thought he meant it entirely as a falsity. Yet, it seemed that he did have some “goons.” Granted, they both seemed far too sweet to actually do anything like that. Though, if Nook did raise them as he had claimed… You felt certain they might actually be capable of doing that.

You served them cake with a sigh, watching as they greedily devoured their individual slices. It seemed they had little to do when Nook was working long hours, so it had become a habit to visit you and see if you would play with them. The two were easy to entertain and fascinated by most things. Though, you were not entirely sure if you enjoyed their comments on the benefits of a larger home for you. Something told you Nook had really rubbed off on them. Still, they were far from a burden, and it was nice to have company. The older tanuki had become a frequent visitor to your home, too. Well, for more than just reminders to pay your loan. Picking up the twins had become a part of his evening routine. They often lost track of time which made Nook have to head over to retrieve them.

Both blinked at you as you sat at the table in your thoughts. Timmy spoke first, opting to bring back your focus. “… What do you think of Mr. Nook… Nook?” Tommy's voice trailed after him. Both seemed curious about the same thing. You glanced at them. Well, he was a bit of a hard ass at first. Seriously, you did not expect to have a mortgage jousted onto you when you moved to a new town. Granted, it did not have interest and no due-by date, but… He also forced you to work part-time and got huffy when you did not want to what the uniform. Your revenge had been banging on his door at three in the morning, claiming you had things to sell. It was shocking he opened the door in his pyjamas and told you that he would only pay seventy percent for it.

But… He had his good sides. He still did give you a home to live despite only having a thousand bells to hand off, and he was courteous enough to still be pleasant with you. The way he cared for Timmy and Tommy… And, well… Maybe, secretly, you would admit that he was a bit cute. Those tired eyes and his comforting way of speaking… You often found yourself hanging out his store for more than just tools. Though, you could not just tell these children those things!

“… He is a good businessman,” you replied simply. They both idolised him and wished to learn from his, after all. That was a good enough reply, assuredly. Both seemed to blink while gazing at you with their large eyes.

“Do you like him… him?” they both asked. You swallowed. What in the world was this? Did they suspect your feelings? It was beyond stressful that your feelings were so obvious that these kids could see them. You grew a bit flustered and looked away. The two shared a glance and nodded at each other. “Mr. Nook likes you, too… too!”

You tensed up. Huh?! Nook liked… you? Surely, they were messing with you. Nook had warned you himself that they could be quite mischievous. Though… They did not appear to doing anything of the sort. Why… were they telling you this? You swallowed again. Nook… You did feel quite strongly for him, but you had this feeling he was not the type to be overly interested in romance. Especially not from a tenant of his. “This isn't some joke, is it?” you asked the two.

Both leaned towards you with their eyes even wider. It seemed that, no, this was not a joke. They were informing you of the truth. “We want you and Mr. Nook to be together!” Timmy explained. Tommy nodded. You grew even more flustered. What was this?! Yet… You could not entirely say you were disinterested. You shook your head at the boys.

“Well…” You tried to politely scold them for being so involved, but their pleading eyes silenced you. They seemed to have made their wants known. Maybe… you could try. Finally, you gave a nod, and they both seemed to perk up. They thanked you for the cake and asked you to walk them home. Thus, giving you a moment with Nook.

~

The shopkeeper received the twins back easily, heading to close the shop while you lingered for a moment inside. He glanced at you, seemingly waiting for you to either leave or say something. You knew he was tired. Nook'N'Go's hours were no joke. It had become slightly common for you to bring him food to eat on his shift since you worried about his health a bit. Though, he seemed fine otherwise.

“Nook…” You spoke finally, “Er, Tom, rather.” He perked up at your choice of his first name and shut the door to the shop while flipping the sign. It seemed he understood you were not there to shop any longer. He took his cap and walked over to you, opting to give you his full attention in between his closing duties. “... I…” it was quite difficult to tell the man what should have been so easy. He gave a 'hm' in reply. “I was wondering if you could set aside some time… for us to… get a coffee together?” you offered awkwardly.

“I don't see why not, hm?” he nodded, “That sounds quite nice. I think I will, yes, yes.”

It seemed it was the beginning of something for you.

Maybe you could even convince him to knock some bells off your debt.

(Unlikely, alas.)

~

A few months from there, you found yourself asleep in a bed with Nook. Snow had crept in with the winter. Somehow, you had found yourself sleeping over at the little living unit in the shop the tanuki lived in. You shifted into his side as the chill of the morning crept under the covers. An arm held you closer to him. The warmth that ruminated from him kept you contented. It seemed you had not been tricked by twins about his feelings. He genuinely had come to like you and appreciated your aid with the boys. It had not been long after that your relationship turned into something more romantic.

Honestly, his off-comment suggestion about you moving in was not so bad. Though, you wondered if that would mean you would be freed from your mortgage. With what a cheapskate he was, you doubted it. You clutched onto his pyjamas and nuzzled into his chest.

You both would have continued to sleep in had the pitter-patter of smaller feet had not approached Nook's bedroom and knocked on the door. You both rose up from the embrace to glance at the door. It seemed Timmy and Tommy were awake. A yawn came from Nook as he stretched and moved to get ready for the day. You managed to catch him just before he did and press a kiss to his cheek. Pulling away, you called out, “Morning… love you…”

He nodded back at you. “Good morning, dear,” he leaned forward to peck a kiss to your forehead. His cheek rubbed against your own make you giggle. “I love you, too,” he moved to actually get dressed.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Act 2, Part 1: a teacher

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

The Safe Haven was only known through word of mouth. The group had managed to convince some Demons already in Hell to return to the surface where they would be safe. They seemed to regret their decision upon realizing Alastor was involved.

The children were becoming increasingly difficult to handle. They were getting bored and started fighting with each other at random because they had nothing else to do and that was all they knew how to do. So I paired them up with an adult and instructed them to make sure they didn't get hurt and to help in any way. I turned it into a game and told them they had to report back to me every finite detail about the day.

The teenagers seemed obsessed with me. Whenever they weren't doing something they were out looking for me. At first they gave each other space when one of them was talking with me, but now they often sat around each other as if they weren't there. They were starting to be okay with one another.

The Safe Haven was well underway with construction. The grand hall had been built first with lots of upper windows and a large kitchen in the back. The roads were being flattened and paved with smooth stone. It was a rough start but at least it was one.

Alastor had recently gotten into the habit of staring at me again. Though this time he was being a little more obvious about it. It made the teenagers unsettled so I often tried to use illusion magic to hide us from him when they wanted to talk to me. The rest of the time he was within hearing distance when I was interacting with the younger children.

I had figured out my tolerance for meat fairly quickly. I could go three days before I started to get pains. Alastor always had a snide remark when I asked him for it. He would put a hand on my shoulder and soak in our combined magic until I had eaten it. It was a trade off.

"You know..." He had both claws on my shoulder as he leaned down so his head was level with mine again. I hated when he stood behind me but it seemed like his favorite spot. "We'll need to begin your training again soon. It's been far too long since our last session." He pressed through my shields but I kept myself in reality.

"I'm busy," was all I could manage.

"I don't intend to pull you away from your precious little devils for long." He pushed his cheek against mine as his presence reached all the way to my toes.

"They're getting worse with every day." I swallowed the last of the meat and stepped away from him to cut the connection. "I'm essentially raising twenty-eight children." I hadn't realized how much I would need to look after the children once we saved them from the ring fights. It made sense how overrun orphanages could lose sight of a few.

"They seem to be doing just fine," he rested his arms behind his back.

"I'm breaking up fights left and right. The adults aren't helping, either." I left the kitchen to stand on the porch. Alastor followed and stood a hair beside me.

"Perhaps they need someone else to look after them," he said.

"I won't pull any of them away from each other." I watched as Angel practically wrapped himself around Husker. He growled at the white and pink Demon as if he hated it, but I could tell from his lack of shoving that he didn't mind it. He hadn't noticed that I had been avoiding him for awhile, now. Alastor looked at me sideways, his mind ticking away.

"I find it hard to believe," he started, "that there isn't a Persecuted teacher in need of somewhere safe to stay. It would take some time off your hands." His eyes followed my gaze and landed on a trio of teenagers talking and casting glances up at us. "And...give you more time to spend with those unruly teenagers."

I huffed a chuckle. "They're only unruly if you piss them off. Which is easy to do."

"You seem to do that the least."

"No, I'm sure I piss them off. But I'm the only one who understands the shi---the things they went through." I casted a glance up at him but he didn't make a remark on my curse. For once we were having a calm, normal conversation and I didn't want to ruin it.

"Fair enough. Regardless, providing the little devils with a teacher to keep them busy during the day would aid everyone, not just you."

A thought came to mind as he looked out at the construction. "Why are you okay with them building the Safe Haven here?"

"Hmm?" He looked at me sideways.

"Surely you wouldn't want anyone to hold anything against you. Wouldn't having a Safe Haven to protect do just that?"

"Hardly. Not many people cross me to begin with so I'm always hunting for my--our--next meal. Having a target on this town will bring the food right to us."

I looked down at my hands. I hated what I had become so I constantly wore my Human form, especially in front of the children. It made me more approachable and relatable.

"It also negates having to teleport from here to the town. I have more accessibility to you."

"You hardly have that as is." I brushed past him, careful not to actually touch him, and walked across the grass to the trio of teenagers.

****

The woman burst through her apartment door and slammed it shut. She dove for the partly packed suitcase under her bed and threw it open. She ran for her drawers grabbing anything and everything that was important to her.

She grabbed snacks from her kitchen and shoved them into her purse. She past the entryway and stopped dead in her tracks. Her head slowly turned to the shadow standing at her door. Their eyes were a bright red and their claws were long and sharp, glinting in the moonlight from the window.

"Hello Ms. Vivian," the shadow spoke.

"What do you want?" Vivian still hadn't moved from her frozen state. She worried any slight movement would trigger the shadow to attack.

"I have a proposition for you." The shadow cast a sphere of light into the center of the room. It was just enough to light both their faces without giving away that anyone was home. "My name—"

"Snake Demon. You're the Snake Demon."

I held out my hands to the side and gave a slight bow of my head. I had come in my Demon form, hoping to show her that I was just like her.

"You don't seem too happy to see me." I looked the woman up and down. She had a short stature, pale skin, and curly dark hair. I had seen her Demon form earlier with long, lamb ears and hooves. Her small horns jutted out the top of her head, practically camouflaged with her dark hair.

"I've heard plenty of you," she growled, showing off a set of sharp fangs, "and all the children you've been stealing."

"Stealing?" I walked closer to my sphere of light so I could see her face easier. She looked between me and her suitcase. "Go ahead. You'll need it regardless of how our conversation goes."

"What do you want?" she demanded, refusing to move.

"I want to offer you something. A job. And a Safe Haven."

"I'm not making any deals. I learned my lesson." She finally moved from the kitchen to her bed. She finished stuffing everything in the suitcase and used her weight to clip it closed. "And I'm not going anywhere with a kidnapper."

"What do you think I do with those children?" I asked, my tone genuine. This was the first I had heard of my reputation being painted in a bad light.

"I don't know and I really don't want to." Vivian closed the suitcase and hoisted it up on its side. "If you don't mind, I have somewhere to be."

"Someone to avoid." I nodded in agreement. "Right now they're being occupied. Until we're done talking, that is."

"You still haven't told me why."

"Well first, I'd like to set my name straight. The children I took from the rings are safe and sound in my Sanc--Safe Haven. All twenty-eight of them have two meals a day, free roam, a soft bed, and great protection."

"I really don't-"

"And I want you..." I stepped close so we were an arm's length away. Her Demon side had come out fully and I could see the dangerous shift in her eyes of an animal ready to fight. "I want you to help me take care of them."

"Why?"

I let out a short sigh. Always with the why. "Because I have other matters to take care of and I can't keep track of twenty-eight rowdy children every waking hour. I need help."

Her demeanor calmed. Her shoulders relaxed but she was still tense all over, ready to explode if danger poked her with a stick. "Out of everyone, why me? How did you even find me?"

"You're a teacher, aren't you?" I shifted into my Human form so we only had a few inches of height difference. "I need someone who knows how to live in both worlds, someone who knows how Humans and Demons work. Someone to guide children of both species. Is that something you could do?"

The sphere turned a shade of blue and I pretended it was a signal that something was outside. Alastor's presence left my mind for a brief moment. When it returned I heard yelling in the distance.

"How did you know about me, though? Have you been watching me?" she questioned.

"In a way, I suppose." I turned back to face her. "I've been looking for a teacher for some time and you were one of the top choices."

"What exactly is this Safe Haven?"

I heard the yelling growing louder. She obviously couldn't hear them yet. "It's a place for Demons and Humans to find safety and shelter. Ever since the Demons broadcasted about themselves, things haven't been the smoothest for both species."

"Why did you take the children though?" Her ear twitched and I forced myself not to smile. Now she could hear them.

"Starting with new, young minds is the best way to ensure both species can live peacefully side by side. There are adults there but getting past their hatred can be...challenging."

Now her head turned to the noise. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "Maybe you can reach me another time. I need time to think."

"You either leave tonight and I won't bother you again, or you come with me and make a difference for these children's lives. I can't give them what you can." I snuffed the light and went to the window, peeking out through the shade. Alastor's illusion of Vivian was running down the street with three people behind her. "I'm trying to keep these children from a life like this. A life of constant running and fear."

Vivian was torn. She needed more time to think. She knew of the Snake Demon's history of illegal ring fights. Vivian, herself, had lost some students to those horrible things. Through this Safe Haven she could keep children from falling into those murderous hands and actually give them a life. She could be the foundation of something good in this period of change. She could be safe to be her true Demon self. No hiding or secrets.

"What's your decision?" I asked. The illusion ran into the building and whisked out of sight. The group chased after it, slamming their bodies into the building door.

"Is this Safe Haven even real?"

"I wouldn't be asking you for help if it wasn't. Though I suppose you'll have to trust me until I bring you there." The building door flew open. They stormed up the stairs, an invisible force causing them to trip and fall on each other. They yelled her name. "What is your decision?"

"Okay. Okay! I'll do it. I'll help."

"Beautiful," I smiled. Alastor manifested from the shadows and the woman's eyes widened. I let him put an arm around my back as I held out a hand to Vivian.

"What? What is this?" She backed away, eyes jumping between us.

"A generous protector of the Safe Haven," I answered. "You said yes."

"But...I...I'm...you didn't say anything about the Radio Demon!"

"He's necessary for the Haven to function. Now let's go." The group ran up the remainder of the stairs and tried opening her door. They started kicking near the door handle to burst it open. "Or we can leave you here to handle them."

With nowhere left to go, Vivian grabbed her suitcase and ran across the room. Our hands wrapped tightly together a second before Alastor teleported us back. She closed her eyes and held on tight to my arm, refusing to open them until we arrived.

One eye opened at a time. She looked around at the basic huts and construction. The adults didn't pay her much mind but Charlie was instantly at her side with her big eyes and wide smile. I let her explain everything to Vivian and watched the woman's reactions.

We settled on introducing her to the children tomorrow since most of them were already well asleep or settled in their huts for the night. Charlie showed her to her own bed while Alastor and I walked up to the house.

"That was awfully close," Alastor half growled. His cane tapped the grass while he held his other arm behind his back.

"Like you couldn't have handled them."

"You should've pressed her more."

"I did it just right. If you're so upset about the way I did it, teach me how to teleport during our next session." I turned around and held my arms out wide as I sidestepped the porch stairs.

He rolled his eyes and followed me into the house. "I have something else in mind."

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

Author’s Note:

Act Two time baby! Vivian is our first OC and I was super excited to write her. I can’t wait to use all these other amazing OCs! Y’all are so creative and talented 😍

If you have ideas on how Alastor might act or want to see anything in particular, you can request, message, or comment it. I love taking ideas and running with them. For now, our boi needs to develop a sense of respect for us, eh?

[yuesya]

AAAAAA TWIN AU!! Geto being dragged along onto the trauma rollercoaster that is Satoru’s life as always, lmao. Since the pair can share techniques, though with difficulty, does Satoru eventually become known as even more of a terrifying prodigy for inexplicably having two cursed techniques? Or does Shiki ever manifest outside of Satoru to help out in dire times (Toji) or just to indulge some sadistic urges and everyone’s like ‘there’s two of them now?!’

"Good work, everyone!"

Satoru rolls his shoulders and stretches out his arms as they're finally, finally back on school grounds and within the protective barriers. The past few days spent protecting the Star Plasma Vessel have been long and eventful. If it weren't for the pressing need to prioritize defending Amanai from the relentless assassins and mercenaries aiming for her, he'd really like to have a nice long talk with whoever it was that decided it was a great idea to kill an innocent girl for no other fault than existing.

It's a bit of a touchy point, for Satoru. For obvious reasons.

... He still hasn't made up his mind on if he wants to hunt them down after the mission is concluded. There's no doubt that Shiki would be happily game for it, the bloodthirsty little thing, but Suguru might have a few choice words to say about it all.

Whatever, he'll decide on it later.

Satoru sighs, finally closing his eyes and letting his Limitless technique drop. His innate technique is a taxing one to use even on a good day, and keeping it running 24-7 is tiring, even with Shiki's help. Shiki tries, but unfortunately the formulas are difficult to maintain for her on her own, which means that Satoru still needs to be the one operating the technique. It's a relief that he'll finally be able to take a break now, before-

His cursed energy ripples, and Satoru startles when his Limitless barrier is suddenly yanked back up, most decidedly not of his own volition.

Shiki-?

His eyes widen. Another mercenary? When did he get behind him, and how had he never noticed?

Shiki snarls in his ears, a viciously hateful sound towards the man who'd almost ran them through with a sword, her voice unheard to everyone but Satoru. It's the work of seconds to throw their unexpected assailant away from them with Limitless; Suguru provides assistance by summoning one of his cursed spirits to attack the man the moment they are a good distance away. The worm-spirit swallows the man in a single gulp, but Satoru doubts that will trap him for long.

"Satoru! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." That was a close one. Thanks, lil' sis. "Don't worry about it, Suguru. He didn't even scratch me."

The man -a Zenin sorcerer? No, not a sorcerer, he had no cursed energy- emerges from the belly of Suguru's cursed spirit in a spectacular spray of off-color gore and viscera, holding a cursed tool that he most certainly hadn't held in his hands just a moment ago.

"Hmm," the man says. "I was sure that you'd disengaged your cursed technique... guess I've gotten rusty."

Disengaged-? So he'd been waiting to ambush them?

Satoru bares his teeth sharply, "Amanai's bounty was lifted already, idiot."

The man smirks, "Yeah, because I was the one who took it down, hotshot."

He was the one who'd put up that timed bounty in the first place? The one that had ensured they were attacked nonstop by opportunistic curse users the past few days?

What an asshole.

"When fighting people like you without any weak spots, you need to have ups and downs and give them the illusion of achievable goals," the man hefts his heavy cursed blade against his shoulder as if it's no lighter than a feather. "If I hadn't set that timed limit on the bounty, you wouldn't have deactivated your technique until the very end... well, not that that worked out, in the end. But you're slipping, aren't you? You didn't even notice me until right before I was about to gut you."

It hadn't been Satoru who'd noticed the man, but Shiki. Even now, standing right in front of him, he was invisible to Satoru's Six Eyes -there was only the cursed energy from his cursed tool and that strange cursed spirit coiled about his body, but apart from that... this man had zero cursed energy. Some strange form of Heavenly Restriction?

Well, that didn't matter.

Satoru closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, everything in the world is covered in cracked red lines -including the would-be murderer who'd nearly gotten the drop on him.

"Me, slipping?" Satoru grins provocatively. "In your dreams."

[mitsuyaya]

[ denouement ] itoshi rin

♡ contains: 717 words. angst, breakup

♡ summary: it's foolish to think that everything could last because everything has an end, just like your relationship with rin.

listen :) | triple treat masterlist

your relationship with rin hasn't always been this frustrating.

it wasn't always shrouded with anger, silence, indifference, exhaustion–it wasn't like an abandoned home. the relationship you had before reminds you of a glasshouse, filled with delicate flowers, lively trees, embellished with such fancy decorations.

but the longer you stare, at him, at the house you shared, the harder it is to find that very glasshouse.

at times, you feel like the center of everyone's attention, compliments were thrown from all directions, a paragon of a picture perfect couple that could withstand even the deadliest of calamity.

and naively, you believe them. you believe that in every argument, a little comfort could mend it. in every misunderstanding, an apology could fix it. and in every agonizing word, swallowing it would be the best possible solution.

there were moments you couldn't forget, times where rin would show you just how much he loves you. greets you when he gets home, places a loving kiss on your lips as he bids you goodbye, whispers sweet words of confession as he drifts off to sleep—but it all crumbles, lost within the pits of the past.

as the relationship gradually reaches its ending, you could feel the change in his aura.

his usual affectionate demeanor was nowhere to be seen, morphed into something aching to an uncaring stranger. the warmth in his embrace disappeared, it feels like the gush of wind during the winter season, cold, frigid.

the sparks in his eyes that used to be blooming with love and delight were gone, no matter how long you search for it, it's futile—he's already gone, the rin you used to love is gone.

the delicate glasshouse you used to cherish becomes old, rundown, filled with pests and withering plants—a sign that it's insoluble. still, you hold on to its entrance, you hold on to rin’s heart despite seeing the obvious look on his face.

your heart pounds; in anger, sorrow, desperation, eyes fixated on his figure. you watched with glassy eyes as his jaw clenched, one hand massaging his temples—it's a look that he's about to lose every single fiber of his patience, with this relationship, with you. at this point you should've been quiet.

“what happened? why did you change rin?”

but the words just easily slipped out of your lips, wanting to break free and be answered. the question lingers in the air, and with every passing second it makes you regret even asking him, it becomes much worse the moment you search for his reaction, his response.

“i fell out of love” it stings, like acid permeating your skin. “I just- I don't know, it's just one day I realized that I'm not in love with you like I used to.” it becomes more unbearable with every syllable he speaks.

it's difficult to remain standing at this point, like your knees would give up any second, but it's even harder to look at the face of the man you love with all of your heart. you turned your back, swallowing the excruciating lump in your throat before you spoke up one last time.

“let’s break up” rin freezes in his spot, lets you leave the apartment, lets you leave the glasshouse that was once your relationship, it was the last thing you saw, a lukewarm expression–something that didn't surprise you.

you would've told him a lot of things, cursed him to satiate your anger, asked him for explanations but you couldn't, you don't want to. it's not like asking him would change anything; it's not like his answers could fix your already broken relationship.

escaping from this heartbreaking situation is the only option you have.

the outdoor breeze didn't faze you, not when the only thing you could register is the shattering of your heart, the moments during the breakup replaying in your mind and the tears that cascaded in your cheeks as you trudge your feet further away from the house you both shared.

you were wrong to think that the love he has for you would remain for the longest of time, to think that your relationship is as resilient as they make it out to be.

because now, like how the glasshouse you used to treasure crumbles, your relationship with rin, has finally reached its ending.

[defectivevillain]

hold me like a grudge

pairing: josh/reader

reader’s pronouns are unspecified. 

summary:

“Did you see that?” Josh asks frantically. Your first instinct is to respond, and you quite nearly turn around to look at where your friend is pointing. Just before you can do so, you realize that the fear in his voice is manufactured. You remember the elaborate tricks he set up. Anger boils in your chest and you grab him by the collar to shove him against the wall.

“Don’t even start with me,” you hiss, entirely unwilling to entertain Josh’s revenge plot. The fact that Josh can stand here and joke about everything… knowing damn well that he would inflict so much pain on his friends…

You're given several chances to fix things on that fateful night at Blackwood Mountain. This attempt, you decide not to entertain Josh's foolishness.

[ao3 version, which contains an alternate ending]

word count: around 5k

warnings: canon-typical violence & gore, spoilers, panic attack, hyperventilation

The first time you live through the night on Blackwood Mountain, you’re overwhelmed. Your entire world has been flipped on its axis, as your friends become enemies and your enemies become friends. Josh’s betrayal is difficult to swallow, but his death hits you even harder. Everyone else manages to survive. Everyone else can walk away from the night bruised and bleeding, but still very much alive. Josh, on the other hand… You can’t finish that thought. Right now, above all, you need rest. Once the helicopter arrives and you’re safely strapped in, you feel your eyelids slipping shut of their own accord.

You wake up to find yourself standing on the snowy path leading up to Josh’s lodge. You blink a few times and stare at it in confusion. What’s happening here? Are you lucid dreaming? Surely, that’s the only logical explanation. You walk up the steps and knock on the door. It swings open within a few moments and Josh welcomes you in. You step in warily, only to find that everyone else has already arrived. Dread coiling in your chest, you keep quiet and listen to their conversations. None of this seems right. You subtly pinch at your arm—hard enough to be rather painful—but nothing happens.

It looks like you’re living through the night all over again. You push away your growing anxiety and try to pretend that everything’s fine. Hell, you’re getting a second chance at things—you should be grateful. This time, you proceed with a little more caution. You make sure to keep a closer eye on Josh and, sure enough, the betrayal feels rather obvious once you’re expecting it. Still, you’re unable to get to Josh and interfere with his plans. At the end of the night, you’re alive. Matt, Emily, Chris, Ashley, Josh, and Jessica are all dead. Mike and you are the only survivors. It’s apparent that the two of you don’t know what to do with yourselves once the sun rises. When you’re taken away by helicopter once more, you’re willingly closing your eyes and hoping you get another chance.

Against all odds, you get another chance… and another… and another. Your third and fourth attempts are better, but you’re still unable to entirely prevent death. The fifth attempt is horrible—you’re the only one who survives. The survivor’s guilt stays with you, especially when you consider the fact that you had lived the night multiple times before. You should’ve been able to prevent those deaths. During that helicopter ride, you stare out the window in complete silence. It takes you a long time to find rest.

By the sixth attempt, you’re exhausted. You’ve lived the same horrible night over and over again. You’ve outran Wendigos and narrowly avoided death countless times. Somehow, the exertion is taking a toll on your stamina. You feel slightly slower, clumsier. You don’t respond as fast as you did before, and when a Wendigo throws itself at you, you’re thrown to the ground. The creature’s jaw nearly unhinges as it lurches toward you with sharpened teeth and a drooling maw. You try your best to push it off, but your efforts are to no avail. The Wendigo leans down and snaps your head right off. For a moment, there is intense pain. As soon as it comes, shadows overtake your vision and you’re swallowed by darkness.

The next time you open your eyes, you’re startled. You thought that sixth attempt would be your last—what with you dying and all. A traitorous part of you doesn’t even want to continue. You’ve tried countless times already—will anything really change? Is this night just destined to bring death and destruction?

A bird chirps loudly, breaking you out of your thought process. The brisk mountain air hits your skin and you shake your head, resolutely walking forward and towards the cabin looming in the distance. You have to do this again. You have to save your friends.

When you’re finally on the doorstep of the lodge, you realize you’re one of the first to arrive; thankfully, the rest of your friends arrive in due time. Once all of you are gathered in the common area, you realize that you may have been focusing on the wrong things in your past attempts. You lock eyes with Josh and come to a realization. He is the only person who had the same fate, regardless of your six different attempts. No matter what you did, Josh perished at the hands of a Wendigo. Something about that makes you pause. Maybe if you tried to stop Josh from all of the cruel tricks he planned… Maybe, just maybe… You take a deep breath.

“Josh, I need something from the basement,” you announce, deciding to bite the bullet, “Can you come with me?” You need to talk to him—the sooner, the better. The group seems a little surprised by your request, which only serves to confuse you. You’re closer to Josh than you are to the rest of them. Did they expect you to go with someone else? You don’t get to pursue that thought process too far, as Josh answers.

“Sure,” Josh grins, smirking at you. You refuse to find that attractive. “Eager to go into the basement with me?” His tone is suggestive and you roll your eyes. He wishes, you think to yourself. You decide to remain silent and watch as the rest of the group pairs off. Unsurprisingly, Emily and Matt go together. Chris goes with Ashley and Mike sticks with Jessica. You’re left standing in the foyer with Josh.

“Let’s go,” you suggest, shoving your hands in your pockets and walking towards the basement. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice Josh’s suspicious gaze tearing holes into your back. You bound down the basement stairs and take a few turns, making sure that you’re out of earshot from the others. Josh follows you and comes to a stop next to you, clearly a bit confused about your sudden unfounded confidence. You don’t bother to explore the halls, since you remember everything from your past attempts. You’re about to turn the corner when there’s a hand on your shoulder.

“Did you see that?” Josh asks frantically. Your first instinct is to respond, and you quite nearly turn around to look at where your friend is pointing. Just before you can do so, you realize that the fear in his voice is manufactured. You remember the elaborate tricks he set up. His lighthearted pranks ended up being far more than pranks, though. Josh’s fake death—or, well, Ashley’s real one—was traumatizing for everyone involved.  Anger boils in your chest and you grab him by the collar to shove him against the wall.

“Don’t even start with me,” you hiss, entirely unwilling to entertain Josh’s revenge plot. The fact that Josh can stand here and joke about everything… knowing damn well that he would inflict so much pain on his friends… Safe to say, you’re not happy about this situation. There’s a strange expression on Josh’s face, and it almost looks as if he wants to dissect you before his eyes. You take a deep breath. “Now, you’re going to shut the fuck up and let me speak.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Josh grins, looking entirely amused and interested with this turn of events. You tighten your grip on his shirt, both to get him to stop and to reassure yourself that everything around you is real. This isn’t a dream. You’re living through this hellish night once more. And, this time, you’re not going to die. None of your friends are going to die—you’ll make sure of it. You take a moment to close your eyes and regain your composure.

“I’m serious, Josh,” you sigh, hoping that your tone will convey your sincerity. Josh seems to believe you, as his eyes widen minutely and he falls silent. “I’ve done this before. Your little game? It never ends well.” Josh’s eyes go comically wide at that.

“How-?” He chokes out. You silence Josh with a look.

“It never works out for you,” you continue. “You masterminded all this for revenge, right? You want us to feel the pain, the humiliation that your sisters did? Well, your game isn’t just a game—it has real consequences, Josh.” For the first time, there’s genuine emotion on Josh’s face. There isn’t a fake smile or a flat line. Just as you begin to hope that he’ll believe you, however, Josh continues to speak.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Josh says. You know that he’s in a bad place, that he has struggled with mental illness since long before his sisters died. Even so, that remark is unacceptable. You can’t dismiss the sudden wave of frustration and rage you feel.

“I wouldn’t understand?”  You look at him in disbelief. There’s nothing but sincerity written on his face and it makes your stomach turn. “I lost two good friends that day, Josh.”

“Good friends?” Josh remarks sardonically. “Don’t make me fucking laugh. If you were such good friends with Hannah, then why didn’t you stop that prank?” You freeze. The hollow feeling you’ve grown to associate with grief is returning, and your chest burns. You clench your fists at your sides.

“Josh, I think about that night constantly, and I know you do the same,” you sigh, swallowing past the lump in your throat. You’ve spent the past year regretting every single decision that led to that night, to Hannah and Beth’s disappearances. You’re not going to let Josh guilt you for it, not when you’ve been living with regret and remorse every damn day since then. “Don’t put this all on me; each and every one of us is responsible—including you.”

“I know,” Josh whispers, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it. He seems to finally have given up on arguing, so you let your hand fall from his collar. Josh massages his neck and you pretend not to notice. Instead, you take a deep breath and contemplate what to do next. Josh still looks confused, so you decide to explain what you can to him. You describe how you’ve lived this night over and over, how you’ve seen everyone—including yourself—die in increasingly gruesome ways. “Wow,” Josh remarks, once you’re done telling him everything. You feel inclined to agree with the sentiment.

“If everyone is going to survive, then we’re going to need to work together,” you say, “Are you with me or not?” You extend a hand to him and for a long moment, there is nothing but silence. The lights flicker in the dimly lit hallway and the expression on Josh’s face is far too complicated for you to pin down. It is rather hard to believe—that you’re stuck in some fucked up time loop. Just as you’re about to rescind your offer of cooperation, Josh reaches out and clasps your hand.

“Let’s do this, then,” he agrees. You spontaneously decide to squeeze his hand in a reassuring gesture, before letting your hand fall back to your side. Josh’s eyebrows furrow and he pushes himself off the wall, coming to stand next to you. “So… what now?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to convince you…” You trail off, your confidence from before slowly dissipating. Josh shakes his head in disbelief and you’re quick to defend yourself. “What? I have a plan, sort of. I just… made it under the guise that I’d be alone.” You hadn’t tried to work with someone in your prior attempts. That may have been the problem, though.

“Well, you’re not alone,” Josh reminds you without hesitation. His confidence is reassuring—it pushes your nerves aside. Sure, there’s a million different ways this night could go wrong. Maybe this time, though, you’ll do it right.

“I know,” you eventually sigh.  You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to maintain your composure; the night is far from over. “Hm. Okay, well. Emily and Matt should be on their way back. Mike and Jessica are heading to the guest cabin- Oh shit. Oh shit!”

“What?” Josh asks, evidently startled by the sudden exclamation.

“We need to get to Mike and Jessica right now,” you answer, remembering that Mike and Jessica will encounter a Wendigo if they make it to the guest cabin. You don’t have the time to explain that to Josh. Hell, they could be in danger already. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, spinning around and racing back to the stairs. Josh pauses for a moment before running to catch up to you. You sprint through the house and down the path outside.

Thankfully, Mike and Jessica didn’t get far; in fact, it looks as if they’re having a snowball fight just off of the path. “Hey, guys. You should come back. We…” You’re suddenly struggling to come up with an excuse. The pair is staring at you with thinly-concealed suspicion and, for some reason, you’re blanking. You ran all the way out here with the fear that they would be in danger. They’re not, but now you need an excuse for them to avoid the guest cabin.

“We’re going to use a spirit board,” Josh interjects, before you can awkwardly stammer through an unconvincing explanation. You send him a grateful glance. Mike and Jessica both squint at you, as if they know something you don’t. “You guys in? It’s pretty cold out here; probably not the best idea to go to the guest cabin.” You’re momentarily amazed by how calm Josh sounds. You then remember that his calm demeanor was the reason you were so blindsided by his betrayal in the first place. You have to make a conscious effort to forget that realization.

“Sure, why the hell not?” Mike shrugs, looking to Jessica for confirmation. She shrugs and, with Josh’s guidance, the two of them walk back to the lodge. You let out a breath of relief once they’re out of earshot.

“I can buy you time,” Josh whispers, despite the fact that Mike and Jessica are now too far away to hear. You turn to him and raise your eyebrows. He looks thoroughly convinced. “I’ll fake the spirit board again,” he explains. How is he going to do that, exactly? Josh must sense your thoughts—sometimes, you swear he can read your mind—and he rolls his eyes. “Relax, I’ll just make it look like a ghost or something.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you nod, already planning out what to do with the time he’s buying for you. The two of you stare at each other in silence. Apparently, the conversation is over. You take a step forward, fully intent on walking towards the cabin, when Josh’s hand falls on your shoulder. You glance at him, only to find a conflicted expression on his face.

“Hey,” You blink at him in confusion, thrown off by the sudden remark. You look at him expectantly. Josh takes a deep breath and looks at you with a rather intense gaze. “How many times have I died?”

Your heart stalls in your chest, and you’re completely unable to hide an instinctual wince. You really hoped he would overlook that part. Josh senses that you’re evading the question and he sighs. “I think I deserve to know.”

You swallow hard. He does deserve to know. You inhale shakily. “Six,” you whisper, averting your eyes. You don’t want to remind him that you’ve lived this same night only… six times. Unfortunately, Josh seems to come to that conclusion on his own.

“My death is unavoidable,” Josh realizes aloud. There aren’t any words that can describe the tortured expression on his face—it’s a horrid mix of fear and resignation. Your eyes are burning and you wipe at them quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. Josh’s own eyes look glassy in the pale moonlight and your chest tightens. You can’t even imagine how he must feel. You feel the overwhelming need to reach out to him, but you’re not sure if that will help. Instead, you swallow your nerves and muster as much confidence as you can.

“When I said we’re saving everyone, I meant everyone,” you remark. Josh looks at you in confusion. “That means you, too.” You clarify, crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you more.

“Why are you giving me a second chance?” Josh asks, turning his back to look up at the stars. You can’t see the expression on his face, but the tension strung in his shoulders gives you a hint of what he’s feeling. “After everything I’ve done. Or, I guess, everything I… did.”

“Because I know you,” you respond, once the words start to feel heavy on your tongue. You have to avert your eyes as you say it, for fear of letting Josh see the emotion in your expression. “I know you and… you understand better than anyone.” You understand the grief better than anyone, goes unsaid. At that, Josh turns around to meet your eyes. There’s a complex expression on his face—something between disbelief and hope. The sight hurts to look at. He’s staring at you as if you’re some sort of hero. You choke on a wry laugh and put a hand on your face. If only he knew of the things you’ve done these six nights.

The snow crunches underfoot as Josh turns around to head to the cabin. You hesitate and eventually settle for following behind him, making sure to keep your distance. He seems to be rather rattled by what you told him—an understandable sentiment. You’ll give him some space. Once the two of you are safe within the walls of the cabin, you manage to gather everyone in the foyer.

The next few hours pass surprisingly fast. Josh and you manage to engineer ways to keep the group busy, mostly with silly games like Truth or Dare and Hide and Seek. They’re childish, sure, but they distract the group quite well. Hide and Seek gives you enough time to confront The Stranger and receive some flares to fend off the Wendigos.

Unfortunately, your luck soon runs out. The Wendigos had been lurking outside, but they’re starting to approach the cabin. You can catch glimpses of their shadows in your peripheral vision, and you don’t realize just how close they are until you spot one lurking on the doorstep. Its claws scratch against the door mockingly. Your heart races in your chest and you turn to the group.

“Everyone, go to the basement,” you order, knowing you don’t have the time to explain everything. The Wendigos are far too close now. Your friends all stare at you in confusion and you feel yourself snap. “Go!” The group breaks free of their stupor and races down to the basement, which is more secure than the other levels of the cabin. “Josh, you too.” To your surprise, Josh doesn’t argue. Instead, he gives you a knowing look before turning the corner and heading for the stairs. You try to push aside your betrayal at that—you thought you’d be met with a little more resistance than that. The Wendigo lets out a strange noise and breaks through the window, effectively breaking you from your thought process. You pull one of the flares out of your pocket and freeze in place. Despite your refusal to move, you think you can feel your hands shaking out of fear.

The Wendigo must notice the miniscule movement, and it lunges at you so fast that you don’t get the time to react. You’re roughly slammed down to the ground, hard enough to turn your vision grainy. The flare falls from your grip and clatters along the floor. The Wendigo leans closer, excreting drool from its gaping maw. It leans down further and you’re forced to grab at its jaw and push it away. Unsurprisingly, the creature is much stronger than you and its teeth rip into your hand. You bring a knee up and try to throw it off of you, but it doesn’t budge. You come to one earth-shattering conclusion: you’re going to die. You feel as if you’re watching in slow-motion, as the Wendigo lets out a loud screech and brings its hand back for another blow. You close your eyes and push at it desperately. Memories begin to flash before your eyes and it’s as if time freezes. You wait for unfathomable pain and infinite darkness.

Just as its teeth graze your skin, the Wendigo screeches in pain and moves back. You take the afforded opportunity to scramble towards the flare and throw it at the Wendigo, which immediately scampers backwards at the threat of flame. There’s the loud sound of a shotgun discharging and you turn to the side, only to find Josh with a shotgun in hand. The combination of the flare and the shotgun seems to keep the Wendigo at bay for now.  You know that you don’t have much time, though. You grab Josh’s arm and he seems to get the idea; the two of you sprint down to the basement and race through the winding halls, before finding an isolated corner and remaining still. You’re both breathing hard and trying to remain quiet at the same time. It takes several moments for you to catch your breath.

“Did you really think I’d leave you?” Josh asks breathlessly, still panting from the exertion. You can’t find anything to say. The ensuing silence must speak volumes, because Josh shakes his head at you disbelievingly.  “You alright?” He then levels you with a worried gaze that shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. The thought of being on the receiving end of that concern is enough to send your heart racing out of your chest once more.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you eventually murmur. Josh sends you another heated look and you avert your eyes, instead deigning to walk back through the halls. Josh seems to know where he’s going, so you follow him. Sure enough, before long, the two of you manage to regroup with everyone else in the basement. Your friends seem to be debating what to do for the rest of the night. Josh asserts that you all should stay in the basement. Mike brings up one core fault to that plan—namely, what you’re supposed to do if you need to sleep. Josh motions for you all to follow after him. You’re the first one to do so and, eventually, your friends get over their hesitation and follow you.

Josh leads you to a nondescript looking cabinet and opens it up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s pushing the back of the cabinet back to reveal another room. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This is a new twist; you hadn’t seen this in any of your prior attempts to live through this night. The others don’t seem to know about this secret space either, as they all have different surprised expressions on their faces. Once everyone is standing in the hidden room, Josh pushes the back of the cabinet into place and turns to look at the group.

“We should be safe here,” he maintains, his gaze wandering across the group before settling on you of all people. He looks over you thoroughly and you feel your skin prickling. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, and you don’t have the time to figure it out. “There are four bedrooms down here.”

“That’s convenient,” Matt remarks casually. Emily raises an eyebrow at him and they seem to have a telepathic conversation amongst themselves. Matt then turns his attention back to the rest of you. “Em and I can share a room. Then, Mike and Jessica… Chris and Ashley… That leaves one room, with-”

“You two,” Emily interrupts, pointing at Josh and you. Josh’s eyes widen and he sends you a strange glance. He almost looks nervous, and you’re not quite sure why. There’s a devious smirk on Emily’s face and you can sense that same mischief in your other friends’ eyes. Just what are they planning? You don’t get the chance to find out, as the group splits up and moves to their respective rooms. Josh exhales slowly, before leading you to the bedroom you’re supposed to share.

Your mind is reeling, even as Josh closes the door to the bedroom and takes a seat on the bed.  You had no idea that these rooms existed before. Would you have even found them without Josh’s help? You were adamant on living through this night alone—just how much did that hinder you? Were you really just too prideful to reach out for help before? You’re certainly relieved that you all seem to be safe [for now], but… This all feels like a slap in the face. You feel ashamed, humiliated, remorseful. The guilt is eating you alive.

Trying to remain calm, you kneel down to sit on the floor. Your head falls back against the wall. It’s far from comfortable, but you’re far too exhausted to care. Within the few seconds that your eyes are closed, you’re about ready to fall asleep. At least, until Josh interjects.

“What the fuck?” your friend asks. You open your eyes and look at Josh, only to find him staring at you with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Oh, I just assumed-” You break off, not quite sure how to explain your thought process. In all honesty, you assumed that Josh would be the one to take the bed. That thought must be ludicrous, because he looks at you like you’re absolutely crazy.

“Get up here,” Josh says, moving over to leave you ample room on the bed. You push yourself up from the floor and sit down next to him. Silence stretches across the space and it’s both uncomfortable yet welcome. You rub a hand over your face, unable to calm your racing heart.

You’ve never made it this far before, and you can’t rid yourself of the fear that everything will reset again. You’ve already lived this night six times. Each time, you thought your actions would be final. Each time, you woke up to find yourself walking along the snowy path towards Josh’s lodge. This time, you think that you’ve done things right. No one died, and you want things to stay that way.

“I really don’t want things to reset again,” you murmur, unable to hide your fear any longer. You don’t realize that you’re trembling until Josh is reaching out and clasping your hands. There’s a strangely concerned expression on his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassures you. His gaze burns into the side of your face, but you can’t find the courage to meet his eyes. Josh’s thumb skims over your knuckles and a shiver rolls down your spine. “I won’t let that happen.”

You desperately want to believe him, but every time you close your eyes, you see your friends’ corpses. Each time you blink, you see Josh’s crushed skull, Jessica’s unhinged jaw, Mike’s smashed face, Emily’s broken body, Chris’s twisted neck, Matt’s corpse left to rot at the bottom of the cliff, Ashley’s gouged out eyes. You feel as if the breath is being robbed from your chest. You’ve seen so many horrible things over the course of this night, and none of it really settled in until now. You were forced to watch as each of your friends died—over and over and over again. Hell, you even died once yourself. The realization comes crashing down on you all at once and you find yourself gasping for air.

“Whoa,” Josh remarks. His voice sounds garbled and warped, as if he’s underwater. You watch with blurred vision as he squeezes your hands and stares at you, willing you to meet his eyes.  “Hey, breathe with me. In, out. In, out. Come on.” You take a ragged breath in at his command, and exhale in unison with him. It takes several minutes, but you eventually manage to regain your composure. You’re holding Josh’s hands in a death grip, but he doesn’t show any sign of pain.

“Sorry,” you say moments later, releasing his hands.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Josh shakes his head. There’s worry written all over his face, and it hurts when you know that you’re the reason for it. You adjust your posture a bit and lean back against the numerous pillows behind you. Your body is incredibly fatigued but your mind refuses to slow down. You don’t want to let your guard down. “Hey, why don’t you rest? You look like you could use it, no offense.”

You don’t even have the energy to respond with a witty comment. “Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You stare at the ceiling, pretending not to remember that there are vicious Wendigos still roaming around. The effort is rather difficult. Your eyelids are stinging and burning with the lack of sleep, but you don’t want to rest. You can’t rest—not until this night is over.

“You can go to sleep,” Josh eventually says. He then pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I’ll be right here, keeping watch.” That’s a generous offer. You tell him as much and he chuckles. However, you know he needs sleep too. You remind him of that fact but he shakes his head. “You need rest more than I do. I’ll be fine.”

You bite your lip and look at him, trying to find a trace of dishonesty in his expression. There’s nothing to be found. You eventually give in, pulling the covers back and burrowing under them. Josh moves to turn some of the lights off and before long, you can feel your drowsiness catching up to you. You’re definitely nervous at the thought of sharing a bed with Josh, but your fatigue and exhaustion outweigh any potential embarrassment. Just before you succumb to slumber, you feel a feather-light touch on your cheek and you sink into the darkness.

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep, because at one point, you’re roused awake by an arm around your waist. You open your eyes, only to find that you’re practically trapped in Josh’s hold. He’s clearly sleeping and you don’t want to wake him… However, even your slight movement is enough to jostle him awake.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks. Despite the fact that he’s awake, he makes no move to stop holding you. He squints at you sleepily and you feel a fond smile growing on your face.

“Nothing,” you say with a shake your head, leaning back into his chest and closing your eyes once more.

there’s a second chapter over on ao3 with a different ending. check it out if you want!

[betweenthings2]

"if you want to come, you better beg" for gattyyy pls pls pls

Thank you so much for the ask!! The prompt list is here if anyone else wants to see it =) This idea has been in my head since I say this ask, so I hope y'all enjoy it. My sincerest apologies for not posting for so long. Have subby!George as an apology.

*This is adult content, proceed accordingly*

Smut prompt 17- "If you want to cum, you better beg."

Matty isn't in charge very often--he doesn't want to be--but when he is, he's demanding and difficult to please. Whatever they do doesn't start in the bedroom, or on a whim, like it often does when George is in charge, but in the morning, so it lasts all day because if Matty's going to be in charge, he's going to Be In Charge. By the time they get to bed, or wherever else Matty has decided they're going to be, George's world has shrunk to Matty and the quiet, careful way he commands George.

Today, Matty has decided that they'll be in the bedroom and that he's going to make George want more than he can recall ever wanting. The first thing Matty does is tell George to undress, stopping him in the middle, so he can touch, tracing the outline of the tattoos that are revealed as he strips. Then Matty steps away, calls him a good boy, and tells him to keep going. George has been on the edge of aroused all day, he always is when he cedes this kind of power to Matty, but by the time he's naked in their bedroom, he's fully hard under Matty's heavy gaze.

Matty makes George stand there for just a moment, then steps close again to run his fingers over George's hip, then the curve of his arse, then, finally up the underside of his cock. George can't help but gasp when Matty gets to his cock, but he's silenced with a look and swallows down another noise when Matty touches him again. George prides himself on being logical, even-keeled, good at balancing Matty's chaos, but all that logic has gone out the window and he's sure he would do anything just for Matty to praise him again.

Matty doesn't offer any praise, just gestures to the bed and says, "Lay down."

George does as Matty tells him and lays down where the sheets have been folded down. He couldn't fathom doing anything else.

Matty doesn't offer praise here, either, just gives a slight nod, and pulls off his of shirt. George can't help but watch, captivated by every movement Matty makes. He keeps staring when Matty unbuttons his jeans and takes them off, too, the bulge in his boxers becoming far more obvious. Matty palms himself through his boxers for a moment, then takes them off, too, and strokes his cock. George desperately wishes it were his cock Matty was touching. He makes no move to touch himself though--Matty is more than capable of making him regret his choices.

When Matty decides George has suffered enough, he retrieves lube from the bedside table and climbs on the bed, straddling George's thighs. When he leans down for a kiss, the soft skin of his belly brushes against George's cock and he thinks it might be the greatest thing he's ever felt.

Matty sits back up far too soon in George's opinion and he would protest but there's no room for protesting, not when Matty opens the bottle of lube and spreads it over his own fingers before reaching around to prep himself. George is sure he's never wanted anything the way he wants to touch Matty now, but he also never been as sure of anything as he is the fact that if he does anything, Matty will make him regret it. All he can do is watch and want.

Matty makes a show of prepping himself, grinding down on his own fingers, mouth falling open when he hits his own prostate, head thrown back when he adds another finger. George knows it's a show more than anything else--Matty has said doing it himself feels more like a chore than anything else--but Matty is a performer and part of George can't help but believe the performance.

When Matty removes his fingers, he turns his attention to George's cock, hard and leaking and neglected against his belly. Matty's fingers are still sticky with lube when he does, but George is so sure that he would take anything if it meant Matty would touch him. The callouses on Matty's fingers are rough against George's sensitive skin and he's deliberately avoiding all the things he knows George particularly likes, but it's good, so good. George is sure he's never felt anything better than the way Matty strokes his cock.

Matty takes his time, touching and teasing until George is sure he'll cum if Matty keeps going, so he chokes out, "Matty, Matty, 'm gonna cum, please."  

Immediately, Matty stops what he's doing and sits up a little straighter, saying, "Can't have that, can we?"

George can't help but be disappointed. He knew Matty wouldn't let him cum, not yet, maybe not at all, but he'd been so close. He doesn't protest though. Matty won't appreciate that.

What Matty does do is turn his attention to his own cock for a moment, then coats George's cock in lube with movements that are almost clinical. It's very obvious that George isn't supposed to take any kind of please in the way Matty touches him, but it's Matty touching him and of course it's good. After that, Matty shuffles forward to straddle George's hips and guides George's cock to his hole.

As Matty takes him deeper and deeper, it very quickly becomes clear to George that he'd done very little to stretch himself because he's so tight and warm inside. Matty stills when he's taken everything he can, arse resting against George's thighs. Instinctively, George reaches for his hip.

Matty bats George's hand away, saying, "Good boys keep their hands to themselves. You want to be good for me, don't you, George?"

George nods. He'd do anything to make Matty pleased with him.

Matty nods, too, and softens just a bit, saying, "I know. You always try."  

Matty doesn't say, 'you're always so good,' or, 'I know you want to be good for me,' or anything else that could be interpreted as praise, just that George tries in a tone that indicates he might fall short. It amazes George that Matty can think clearly enough to be a little bit mean right now.

George nods again, willing Matty to move, to do something, but he stays still for another few moments before leaning down for another kiss. And then, finally, Matty moves. It's not dramatic movement, but movement nonetheless, rocking his hips to fuck himself with George's cock, the same way he would a toy. He shifts after a few moments, looking for the right angle. When he finds it, he gasps and clenches his muscles, making it that much harder for George to keep his composure.

Matty pays no mind to George's struggle, just keeps going, keeps using George like a toy, and he's hot and wet and tight and his cock bounces with every movement he makes, leaking precum onto George's belly. Matty feels so good. Matty always feel so good and George thinks he might cum on the spot when Matty throws his head back and arches his back so George can just barely see the outline of his cock in Matty's belly.

"Matty," George chokes out, desperate to please, "'m gonna cum, Matty, please."

Matty's doesn't stop, doesn't pause, doesn't even indicate that he's heard George except to say, "No."

"Matty," George tries again, "please." Those are all the words he can find with Matty godlike above him, fucking himself like he doesn't trust George to do it properly, like George is just the toy he's chosen to use today. It's agonizing and wonderful in equal measure.

"Beg," is all Matty says this time, still no hitch in his movements. Still, George knows he's getting close by the little whines that escape his throat and the way his cock has begun to leak more heavily.

"What?"

Matty stills and very slowly and clearly, says, "Beg. If you want to cum, you better beg."

George isn't sure he could articulate exactly how hot Matty insistence that he beg is, exactly how hot Matty simply is, but he does as he's told. Matty starts moving and George begs, "Please, please, please, Matty. Please. 'm so close, you feel so good, I'll do anything, please let me cum, please. Matty, please."

"No."

"Matty, please," George repeats. He feels suspiciously like he's on the edge of tears with this impossible task and the way he can't comprehend anything beyond Matty.

"I told you to beg, so beg," Matty insists, clenching his muscles around George as he moves and wrapping one hand around his own cock.

"Please," George tries again. "'m so close, please, god, please, Matty. I'll do anything you want, anything at all, just please let me cum, please."  

Matty seems like he's considering it, but George is so far gone that he's not sure he could have an accurate read of anything, even Matty.

"Please, Matty," George begs. "Please."

Finally, Matty agrees, "Alright, you can cum when I do."

"Thank you, god, thank you, Matty, 'm so close, please, thank you." George's words are all but a sob, but there's a sight shift in Matty's expression and he looks almost proud or pleased and that's all George needs. All he wants to do is make Matty happy with him.

Matty doesn't last much longer, and George can't help but be ridiculously grateful for that. He's not sure how much longer he could keep himself contained, but when Matty finally, finally cums, he lets himself cum too, proud of the way Matty's movements falter slightly when he feels George cum inside him

Matty rides both their orgasms out before slumping forward, panting, head bowed so far his curls brush George's chest. Matty keeps George's cock inside him for a few moments before sitting back up and easing himself off and to his feet. He leans down for a gentle kiss and runs his fingers through George's hair before speaking.

"I'm gonna be right back, ok?" he says. "'m just gonna grab a washcloth and clean up, then I'll lay down with you, yeah?"

That's ok, George things. They need to clean up. They're both sweaty and there's cum drying on George's chest and beginning to leak down Matty's inner thigh. They need to clean up. That's fine, but Matty hasn't moved and is just looking at George expectantly, worry beginning to creep into his brown eyes.

Matty scratches his nails across George's scalp just like he likes and says, "Can you nod, love? Do you need me to stay here for a minute? I can. I just need you to respond."

Oh. George nods.

Matty smiles and murmurs, "Good boy," before leaning down for another kiss. Then he disappears into the ensuite bathroom.

Matty takes a few minutes to clean himself up before reemerging with a warm washcloth to take care of George. He's gentle and careful and when he's done, he balls the cloth up and tosses it onto the bathroom floor before climbing back into bed. He holds George close, head tucked under his chin, and offers quiet praise while running gentle fingers through George's hair.

"Matty?" George asks after a while.

"Yeah?"

"Can I, uh," George's hand hovers over Matty's bare skin, not sure if he's allowed this yet, not sure if Matty wants more obedience from him. George would give it. George would live life on his knees for Matty. He loves Matty more than anything he's ever encountered and he'll do whatever Matty wants, but he'd also really like to touch the man he loves.

Matty catches on, he always does when it's George and he murmurs, "Yeah, baby, we're done. You can have whatever you want now."

So George drapes his arm over Matty's ribs, hand resting with splayed fingers in the middle of his back and feeling the way his body moves as he breathes. "Love you," he says quietly.

"Love you, too, G."