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[clumsybriar]

Ghost x Wife! Reader — My Pretty Girl

Ghost x wife! Reader

Masterlist

Notes: use of (y/n), reader is female, ghost really adores his wife, fluff.

Word count: 6,858

Warnings: some swearing and bullying.

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Simon stopped in the doorway watching his wife get ready. He was awestruck by her always. She was curvy, and pretty, and her personality sold it all.

She was in his words ‘a sensitive bugger’, to which she would disagree and tell him she was in tune with her emotions and then giggle. She was so sweet and patient and was willing to try and be everyone’s friend even if she was an introvert. The deal was, they had to talk to her first.

“Pretty girl.” He uttered coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. She had her make up all done and it was natural looking. The way she liked it. Her hair was straightened and she was just trying to get dressed until Simon interrupted her.

“Si!” She whined cutely as she only had one leg in her shorts and her other one was lifted as she was trying to stick her foot in the hole. Simon had snatched it up trapping her in place.

“Don’t whine, dovie.” He smiled as he balanced her. “I love you with all my heart, I’m just showin’ it.” His deep Manchester accent boomed within the four walls surrounding them.

His words were not an understatement either. He adored her entirely, worshiped the ground she walked on. He was a man who was well in love with his wife as he should be. She was gorgeous, even if she had stretch marks, or a bigger booty, or larger breasts. How ever it was, he loved her no matter what she looked like.

“Ah, pretty girl, not this outfit.” He smiled leaving a trail of kissed down her neck to her shoulder and continuing it down her arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked nervously as she looked up at Simon.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it, he loved it. Frankly he would have said that about any outfit she left the house with or were wearing around the house. Even if it was her tangled and messy bed head and a t-shirt and boxers of his. He would still slobber over it and have the same remark.

“I love it, you look so gorgeous in this outfit pretty girl.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Si-si,” she snorted. “You say that about anything I wear.”

“Can’t help it love.” He tapped her butt with his hands. “You look good in everything, and nothing at all.” He teased softly. His lips trailing down her neck again as his hands wondered her body.

“We can’t,” she out a half things frenzied attack which made up of lots of kisses and groping over her soft skin. “We said we would meet Mr. and Mrs. Price at 3:30 at the winery.” His hands still grabbed at her thighs as he tried to sneak a few subtle touches elsewhere. “And soap and a Gaz will be there with their…”

“Pay them no mind, pretty girl.” Simon hummed as he stood up straight. She was petit against him, as in he towered over her and she was just this dainty and tiny little hobbit compared to him.

“Yes lieutenant.” She giggled she was trying to fight off his large hand that gripped her in thigh still up in the air as she wanted to get dressed. He patted her butt one more time as he let her go and laid on the bed watching her as she got dressed.

“Ya’ wearin’ that devils peice of clothing?” Simon asked as he watched her turn around and change her bra. “Go no bra.” He whined slightly. It was so out of character for him to be so whiney like this, but with her he could express himself in any way. He was so comfortable with her.

“I’m wearing a bra.” She fastened the new one and made sure her breasts settled right in it. He rolled into his belly as he rested his head on his fist.

“No bra,” he grunted out.

“Yes bra!” She argued back smiling at him.

“Let me see.” He pawed at her butt. She had fasted her cargo wrap skort and turned around grabbing her crocheted black crop top that cupped around her breasts.

“Pretty lace lovie.” He referred to her bra looking the dark green and how it compared to her skin.

“Your such a tease.” She giggled.

“Can you blame me lovie.” He sat up watching her out on the crochet top. “Such a pretty girl.”

“You try to make my head big.” She hummed as she put on her sandles.

“Baby, your head ain’t ever gonna grow big enough.” He teased her some more as his hands rested on her hips. “Your a pretty girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone. “And you don’t realize it.”

“I’m not that pretty.” She said softly.

“Beg to differ.” He stood up kissing her cheek. “Dead pretty.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him softly. The two of them had been Mr. and Mrs. Riley for four years.

He met her a year prior to their marriage during a mission. She was a pretty little civilian working her ass off in a library while she tried to finish her art degree. He was a lieutenant in the SAS. And the building she was in, had a bomb located in the center.

Task force 141 had the responsibility to defuse the bomb and evacuate the building.

Ghost could remember it clear as day. He was rushing around giving orders to civilians while (y/n) was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if she should move because they could have been a threat to her safety, or if they thought she was the threat.

Needless to say, Gaz who was surprised by the lieutenants kindness in that moment with (y/n), knew he was a love sick puppy as soon as he set eyes on this little American woman.

Everytime Gaz retells the story, he always states something along the lines of ‘havin’ a hard time tellin’ who was the deer in headlights and who was the car about to run the deer over’. Soap would often talk about how everyone in the task force and who had been under Ghost’s command were jealous that she got all his soft and friendly words and they got ordered barked at them that day.

Needless to say, the universe, as cheesy as it was, had made sure their paths crossed so the two could be together.

Though everyone knew Ghost was in love when he gave her his mothers engagement ring as her own engagement ring. It was the last thing he had of his precious mother who had been tortured and killed by Roba. When they laid eyes on the gorgeous ring that had been worn by his mother many, many years ago, they knew he had found the woman he was going to settle down and come home to everyday, especially when his mother’s matching wedding band slipped on his wife’s finger during the wedding.

The wedding was truly something else, to (y/n) and Simon, it felt like a breath of fresh air finally being able to call one and another husband and wife even if they had been for months maybe even a year prior to wedding.

Simon could remember how ethereal (y/n) looked when she appeared from behind the doors. His breath had caught in his throat, and the tears had instantly welled up in his eyes. Soap had to pat his back as Simon—for the first time—had cried in front of many people.

The task force could have sworn it would have been (y/n) weeping heavily, but on that day it was Simon. And no one judged him for it, because she had for sure been the most beautiful bride, especially if you ask simon.

“Ready to go my dovie.” Simon hummed as he wore a white button down shirt and some slacks.

“Ready.” She grabbed his hand as she admired how his tattoos were on display. “You look charming.” She said softly as her eyes met his.

He could stare into those eyes for eternity.

“Mmm,” he leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you baby.” He kissed her again. “Not as good as you, pretty girl.”

“Stop that!” She giggled as she stuck close to him.

“Never.” He hummed. Ghost had always been so playful with her, letting her see is fun side where many others didn’t get to see that from him. He always made her feel special though that was one thing for sure.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at the winery as they walked to the building to see Maria and John price already sipping on wine.

“What’ya want baby?” Simon asked as his hand was gently placed on her lower back.

“A sweet cider.” She said quietly as she was shooed around larger crowds.

“Mmm, want a pear apple cider?” He asked as he started a tab.

“Yeah.” She hummed as they waited. Her hands remained on his arms as she traced his tattoos. The bartender sat their drinks on the counter as they walked out the back to meet up with Maria and John.

“Well, well, well,” John stood up and shook Simon’s hand. “How’s it goin’ Simon.” The older man asked.

“Better everyday.” Simon hummed, a simple answer to how it truly was. Fantastic everyday when he was with (y/n).

Maria cooed softly at (y/n) as she was a very motherly person in general. “Oh darlin’, yer’ youth is refreshing to m’soul.” She hummed giggling as her accent was very Irsish and thick. “A wee baby’s skin isn’t as soft as yer’ skin.” She pinched (y/n)’s cheek gently. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s cheeks to flare up in a rosy tint.

“Hi Maria.” (Y/n) greeted softly as she kissed the younger woman’s cheeks.

“Oh Simon, I imagine she’s keepin’ ya’ young as well with all her youth,” Maria teased the man. “We’re are ya’ two keepin’ the fountain of youth, Johnny and I could go for a dive.”

“Backyard.” Simon joked as he leaned down and hugged Maria as she kissed his cheeks as well as a greeting.

“Hi missy.” John hummed as he kissed your cheeks. “Keep him better behaved, he’s been causing me trouble at work.”

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) stifled a laughed as she looked up at Simon.

“Don’t you be givin’ my wife ammo.” Simon joked.

“I think your wife has plenty of ammo, me’lad.” Maria hummed. “Yer’ a soft husband, not like m’John who goes fishin’ and leave me with the screamin’ banshees.” She referred to her kids.

“Guilty as all be.” John smiled, sweet bliss for him.

They stood around and chatted as they waited for Gaz and Soap to appear. Of course (y/n) knew the two girls would be coming along as she tried to remember how to blend in so she wasn’t targeted.

“You’ll be targeted no matter what, m’girl.” Maria said softly. “Your a pretty lady, and them boys have known you for years ‘cause o’simon.” She hummed. “Pay’em no heed. If we need a break, you and I can always turn Hyde and walk in the vineyard.”

“Okay.” She said shyly. (Y/n) always felt like she dressed too kid-ish around them even if she was dressing more for her age, being 25. She sometimes believed she was too immature for Simon’s who was 32 and well prepared for life.

“Your so sweet, and so kind.” Simon whispered to her as he coddled her close to him. “So much sweetness, Dovie.”

(Y/n) flushed red and smiled up at Simon. She enjoyed his compliments but it often made her bashful.

“Ya’ look delightful, little one.” Maria smiled as she looked at your mature but youthful outfit. “Good thing Simon knows how to fight, these men would be all over ya’ if ya’ had that ring finger bare.” Maria hummed pointing at (y/n)’s ring finger smiling.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” She brushed it off sweetly.

“I wish for your sake I could agree with ya’ but Simon’s already gave five different men the stink eye.” John chuckled lightly.

“No one fucks with my baby.” Simon said seriously.

That made (y/n) giggle as she patted Simon’s chest.

“I hope we didn’t miss the party.” Soap hummed as he walked hand and hand with his girlfriend. (Y/n) froze up a bit as she curled more into Simon taking a larger sip of her hard cider.

“Slow down.” Simon cooed softly. “No need to rush unless you would like to hug the porcelain throne tonight.”

“Sorry.” She said softly as she looked down to make sure her cleavage wasn’t too much.

Soap and Gaz were around her age, and the two were young, and they had a habit of staring, not on purpose, but because sometimes, (y/n)’s cleavage was a bit more on show depending on the shirts she wore. And she had a god given right to flaunt it. That’s what Farrah, Alex’s wife always told her when they were visiting her cousin in America. She loved her cousin's wife, finding comfort and understanding in her.

Ghost had snapped at the two before for staring, but he also couldn’t blame them. It was a good sight to see in his eyes.

“Anne, Lilliana.” Maria greeted with a polite smile.

Both women looked so elegant and wore beautiful dresses that spoke Italian villa. (Y/n) felt so out of place wearing a skort and a crop top. Too Americanized among a group of Europeans. The sharks were out today and they were gonna get her. Those sharks were named Lilliana, and Anne.

She smiled nervously saying a soft hi.

“You look so…youthful.” Lilliana said as she leaned against Gaz. (Y/n) could tell it was a forced smile and a fake compliment. They thought she looked immature.

“She looks very lovely, doesn’t she?” Maria smiled as she swooped the girl up and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My eldest wants (y/n) to go to the boutique with her so (y/n) can help her shop for clothes.”

“Aye, the ladies can have a day out.” Soap hummed. “And us lads can go to the pub and watch footy.”

“Ya’.” Maria nodded, smiling gently. “We’ll have to plan something out.” She said softly.

Simon watched as his wife finished her cider as she looked at Anne and Lilliana’s outfits. He could see the swirling storm in her eyes comparing herself to them.

“Baby.” Simon said softly. He wished she’d understand she was breathtaking and that she shouldn’t compare herself to other women. In his eyes, until the day he dies and beyond that, he will always think she’s the most breathtaking woman. His hands gently brushed down her hair as he looked at her deep in the eyes.

He would continue to devour her with his eyes until she understood how exactly he felt.

“Yeah,” she said softly as she looked at her giant of a husband.

He felt himself melt at the sight of her looking up at him while her hand rubbed his chest gently.

“You wanna another cider?” He asked softly, his hand gently squeezing her hip.

“Yeah, I can come with you.” (Y/n) said softly as she followed him close.

His hand gently grabbed her as he guided her to the bar top again.

“How’s my pretty girl?” His voice was deep and had an edge of huskiness in it, maybe a bit breathy as well. It made (y/n) swell with love knowing that she got him worked up enough.

Her eyes glanced up at him as she smiled softly. “Better now that it’s you and me.” She said softly.

“To many people, baby?” He asked gently, looking at her with the softest eyes.

“Somewhat?” She looked away nervously. His hand rested on the thin of her back as they waited in line.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered into her ear. It was his way of saying ‘we can have a private conversation right here’.

She fiddled with his collar as she straightened it out. Her eyes glanced around nervously seeing how she wasn’t the only one dressed in the style she was, she had to remember Anna, Lilliana, and Mrs. Price were all older than her, so they would have a different fashion sense.

“Am I childish, overly youthful?” She whispered in his ears. He leaned forward as both his hands grabbed her hips tugging her closer.

He wondered what had got her thinking like that, then it dawned on him. Those two girls were always targeting you.

A month ago, (y/n) had come home crying, having gone out to lunch with the two girls and Mrs. Price, who made sure to deliver (y/n) personally at the Riley’s residence after the luncheon they had. She had been a crying mess blubbering in Simon’s arms all the while Mrs. Price was explaining to Simon what took place as she’s doing her motherly duties in soothing the younger woman.

Soap had thought it was a good idea for the two ladies to welcome the newcomers, who Gaz and Soap had started dating at the same time because the girls were best friends and they had met the two at the club.

Simon could remember Mrs. Price said that one of the newcomers had ‘accidentally’ fumbled their tea and split it all over his lovely wife. He could remember Maria quoting the air when she said accidentally with an eye roll. She knew it was on purpose. Simon knew it was on purpose.

“No dovie, you're beautiful,” he hummed. “I love ya’ just the way ya’ are.” His Manchester accent made it sound like honey. “You're dead gorgeous and I’ll tell ya’ forever until ya’ learn it.” He paused as he ordered their drinks as it was their turn after a few minutes of waiting. He had it put onto the tab he had opened earlier and would have to remember to close later. “Don’t ya’ be listening to those girls, they ain’t got nothin’ on my pretty little wife.” He smooched her cheek. “They’re jealous. Jealous of your gorgeous looks, your gorgeous attitude, your sweet like honey, pretty girl. Don’t let ‘em damper your mood.”

These were the very moments she knew she had made a good choice in marrying Simon. Because he picked up the broken pieces when she needed a bit more support. He let her cry in his arms over nothing until she was soothed and better. He held her hand as he made sweet love to her constantly praising her and making sure she was okay. He was the best husband she could have ever asked for.

“I love ya’ now pretty girl, I love ya’ forever,” he kissed her lips as she giggled softly.

“Love you too.” She hugged him as he brought her left hand to his mouth kissing her knuckles.

“You're my good girl, don’t let ‘em damper the mood tonight.” He smiled at her as the waitress brought the drinks to them, handing it off.

“Yes Si.” She nodded as she followed him back out behind tight against his side.

The night went on and very little trouble appeared.

Maria suggested (y/n) and her take a walk in the vineyard and plan a day out where the two could go with Moira—or Murray for short—and have a shopping spree.

“Ye’ boys be good, I’m takin’ m girl and chatting, don’t worry Simon, she’s with me.” Maria smiled as she put her hand on (y/n)’s waist and walked her into the growing garden of grapes.

“Hold up lassies, Anne, Liliana, go join ‘em.” Soap smiled as he waved them off. “Good fer ye’ gals to figure out their dynamics and then ye’ can have girls' nights.”

“Oh yes, join us.” Maria smiled as she held her disappointment. (Y/n) hid her face dropping as she looked at Simon who gave her a reassuring smile.

Maria would fight on his behalf.

“Let me see, Murray likes the kind of stuff yer’ wearing now. I’m my we’ babes mama, and I’m not good with her fashion even if she is a teen.” Maria laughed. “I could pick out an outfit and she’d yak and say, ‘mam it’s uglier than a tit’.”

(Y/n) giggled at Maria repeating what Murray said.

“Look, teens dress like you too.” Anne snickered and snorted with the other woman, making Maria give them a glare.

“Such…youthful…mmm…” Lilliana tapped her chin. “That’s not the word I’m looking for, more like childish outfits.” Lilliana nodded her head as she sipped her wine. “And you don’t drink wine like an adult, you drink hard cider, probably beer too.”

(Y/n) frowned as she looked ashamed.

“What are ye’ girls yapperin’ about, beer is good, hard cider is better than wine,” Maria corrected them. “And she is fashionable, and me’ daughter is 20, an adult, only 5 years younger then Mrs. Riley here.”

“25 she’s practically a baby.” Anne snorted. “Simon needs a woman, not a girl. Someone who’s mature, honey you don’t fit the bill.” (Y/n) felt that nagging feeling in the back of her head that said: ‘run…run away…no one will find you’. She was starting to think they were right, she was immature and Simon just didn’t know how to tell her that.

“Oh that man loves ya’ beyond all means, yer’ his Persephone.” Maria ignored them. “These fools are just jealous and tootin’ their own horn.”

Maria wasn’t afraid to tell people how it was. She was an outspoken woman. Mr. Price would often tell (y/n) to watch Maria and learn, body language the fact that no fucks were given when she was handling a person who pissed with her family.

Just like that one time a man said Harry sucked at footy. The wretched man said no one would want an imbecile playing footy when he didn’t know his left from his right. Maria, pounced quicker than John who sat back with a can of beer in his hands and a smirk on his face. (Y/n) could remember that one clear-as-day. Simon had leaned over and whispered to her to remind him to never oiss her off. It was terrifying for the two newlyweds nonetheless. (Y/n) was 21, and Simon was 28. The two were afraid they were gonna get a foot up their ass as well for something they did, but didn’t do.

“Let me see your gorgeous wedding rings.” Maria hummed. “He married ya’, and put those precious rings on yer’ finger cause he loves ya’ more than the world.”

Anne and Lilliana paused as they looked at the rings.

Their eyes met one and another as they smiled at each other.

‘Oh dear lord, no. God, no.’ (Y/n) thought to herself.

“Pretty ring,” Lilliana, hummed as they leaned forward. “Can we see?”

(Y/n) hesitated as she knew how important these were to Simon, in fact they were so important to her she hardly let anyone touch her hands.

She showed them from a distance but Anna quickly snatched her hand up making (y/n) squeak out.

“There my mama’s rings baby,” Simon hummed as he smiled at (y/n). “I want ya’ to wear ‘em, they’d look so pretty on your hands.” He kissed your knuckles. “Marry me, pretty girl, make me the happiest man in the whole wild world. Make my mama proud and wear her rings, please baby.” He was so sweet as he proposed to her overlooking Scotland's pretty scenery.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Atta’ girl,” Simon lurched forward kissing her as he put the engagement ring on her finger. “Let’s keep the other one tucked away safely so when I get to see you in a pretty dress.”

“These are important to me and Simon, please just look.” She gasped as they gripped her fingers tightly.

“Now ye’ brats let her go.” Maria swatted at their hands.

They didn't let go of (y/n)’s hands and actually started to tug on her ring finger. She was trying to push their hands away as she felt her eyes well up.

“Oh she’s a crybaby too, so immature.” Anna laughed.

“Oh it’s so pretty,” Lilliana started to slip the rings off her fingers as (y/n) tried everything to stop her. Maria did as she called them a nasty word in her native tongue, and tried to get the ring back.

“Now ye’ girls need some manners.” Maria snapped at them.

“Be a shame if they got lost, he might leave you then,” Anna snorted at Lilliana’s words.

She didn’t want Simon to leave her. She didn’t want those rings to be lost. She started to cry as she shut down not knowing what to do. Her anxiety was through the roof. She glanced at Maria with pure panic.

(Y/n) felt her breath stop, her whole world stop as they tossed them behind them like they were nothing. Lilliana and Anne threw each one back like they were nothing. Like they were senseless gold or fake jewelry that would tarnish the wearer’s finger green once the coating was off of it.

Her eyes widened as she watched Maria chase after the area they went to but she couldn’t see them because they had rolled. She didn’t know what to do other than to cover her mouth and sob. “My rings.” She whispered as she saw Maria sit up straight and look at her.

The other girls walked off laughing as they went deeper in the vineyard and hadn’t been seen for the hour Maria and (y/n) were in the ground searching.

Her sobs got louder as she lost faith in finding the rings Simon had gifted her.

“Calm down m’babe, go get the boys and they can help search, go get Simon m’love.” She hushed her and pushed her up to the grounds where the boys were sitting and laughing. She had her mouth covered as she sobbed quietly trying not to gain anyone’s attention.

What if Simon left her and the girls blamed her for the lost rings.

He knew better, those two girls had caused you more trouble over their jealousy. It was just that fact that the anxiety and the fear crept up in her mind.

“Her cousin and Farah are tryin’ for a baby,” Simon hummed softly. “Been givin’ me a bit of a baby fever. Never thought I’d be one for having my own kids, but here I am. She’d look gorgeous pregnant.”

His words would have made her heart beat a bit faster if it wasn’t for the fact that her rings were missing.

“(Y/n),” Price shot forward very fatherly over the girl since she didn’t have her father or mother who had sadly passed years ago. and he was the one to walk her down the aisle with Maria. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees were dirty, and her hands looked like they were digging in dirt.

Simon was the first to bolt out of his chair as she refused to look at any of them. Concern was etched on Simon’s face as he knew when she cried there was a reason, whether it was a silly one or not, it was enough to warrant him to coddle her and figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes never left the ground even as Simon cupped her face and tugged her close.

“Baby, what’s got you upset?” He was gentle as Price was behind her shielding her from other passerbys.

She sobbed and covered her mouth as her other hand clung to Simon. She felt light headed and terrified.

She knew she just needed to spit it out. “Maria and I…” she felt a hiccup break her words as she was crying heavily. “We’ve been searching for an hour.” She sniffled as she started to hyperventilate and her words started to get jumbled.

Simon’s heart cleaned as he brushed the hair from her face.

An hour? An hour of searching for what?

He wasn’t understanding, but he knew one thing: wrapping her up in his arms and getting her to calm down was the first thing to do.

“Shh, shh,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Shh, love it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiled at her softly. “Deep breaths, nice and easy for me, pretty girl.”

She did some of that but other than that she was back to babbling and trying to get her words out.

“And I can’t find it.” She sobbed her hands refusing to clutch too tightly to his white shirt, knowing she’ll get it dirty.

Simon's concern deepened as he tried to make sense of (y/n)’s words. "Can't find what, love? What are you looking for?" He continued to hold her against him, one hand gently stroking her back to try and soothe her sobs.

Then her words were finally freed up knowing she needed to convey the message Maria sent her to tell the men.

“The girls asked to see our rings, and Maria and I didn’t know they were going to rip it off my finger. It hurt and we tried to stop them, and they threw both my wedding band and engagement ring.” She sobbed. “It was your mom’s wedding band and engagement ring, I can’t find them.” She felt like bile could escape from her mouth at any second.

“They did what!” Soap looked like he was gonna have a conniption while Gaz covered his mouth as he looked apologetically to the two of them.

Simon's eyes widened in shock as he processed (y/n)’s words. The girls had stolen her rings and thrown them away? And not just any rings, but his mother's wedding band and engagement ring.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n)’s tears and pain took priority. He held her tighter against him, his voice strained. "Those bloody girls. They’re gonna pay for this.”

“I can’t find them.” She huffed as more tears welled up in her pretty eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk to the manager and make sure they know that we have a missing engagement ring and a missing wedding band.” Price patted Simon on the back. He disappeared quickly as Simon rubbed his wife’s back trying to soothe her as he whispered to her.

“We’re gonna find them baby, I won’t stop looking until they're back in your fingers.” He kissed her cheek. “So breathe baby, we’re not leaving until they're back on your finger.”

“I’m gonna go down with Maria and start searching in the area she thinks she saw them go.” Soap said as he looked at the two of them. “We’ll find them.” He reassured the two.

“Better find them, and you better keep those rotten women away from my wife!” Simon snarled at the two men.

“Yes LT.” They saluted.

Simon stuck close to (y/n) as he tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and her fears that didn’t seem to be washing away until she saw those rings in either his hands or her own hands.

Johnny and Gaz looked in the area’s Maria had pointed to them, while her and John searched the area she swore up and down it landed at.

The doubt and fear hadn’t settled in (y/n)’s stomach, right now she wished it would go away. She was about ready to throw up all that dinner that Simon worked hard to cook her.

“We’re not gonna find them.” She felt her anxieties creep into the back of her mind.

“Baby, we’re not leavin’ until those damn things are back in that hand.” He pointed to her left hand. “I promise you that.” He cupped her face.

“But Simon,” she was exhausted. “What if…what if we don’t find them?” She fretted as she looked at her husband with tears falling down her cheek.

Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew how much those rings meant to his wife, and the thought of losing them was torture for him.

He knew from day one they had made her feel special, feel well loved by her husband who adored her so much. She felt like it was her fault she lost them and it was on her now that they were missing not having protected his precious rings.

He gave (y/n)’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll find them, love. I promise. We won't stop until we do.”

It’s all she needed to hear and take in to slowly get back to searching. It had taken him multiple times to finally get it through her head he would have those rings back as soon as he could find them.

“You gave those to me hoping I would keep them safe since they were my engagement and wedding bands but I couldn’t.” She cried softly as she searched the ground near him.

Simon's heart clenched at her words.

Yes, he had given (y/n) his mother's rings with the hope that she’d keep them safe. But he never expected her to be put in this situation. Who would? He’d never expect two girls to be that jealous and put his wife in this much emotional turmoil.

"Love, it's not your fault," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You didn’t ask for this. Those bloody girls had no right to touch your rings. They had no right to touch you, pretty girl.” He stopped and filled her face. “And I’m gonna protect you until the day I die, and if that means tellin’ them girls off, then that’s what the hell I’ll do.”

Their hands searched the ground as their eyes looked everywhere. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later Maria bounced up with excitement and happiness.

“I found one, ye’ lads keep yer’ eyes open for the engagement ring, I found the wedding band!” She shouted happily as she rushed over to (y/n) gently placing the ring on her finger. “Sweet babe, we’ll find it, I promise.”

Simon watched as Maria comforted the woman he loved so dearly. His anger subsided momentarily, replaced by relief and gratitude to Maria for her kindness. There was truly something special about the mother of three.

"We will," he said, agreeing with Maria. His voice was more steady now. "We'll find that engagement ring, even if we have to tear this place apart."

The two of them went back to searching as they looked through the ground as thoroughly as they could.

It wasn’t until another fifteen minutes had passed after Maria came barreling with the wedding band that they had found the engagement ring.

Simon's eyes caught a glint of something shiny among the blades of grass. He crouched down, gently pushing the grass aside to get a clearer view.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was—(y/n)’s engagement ring.

He had found it, he felt his heart flutter as all that stress and worry subsided and it was gone. The relief was back and he couldn’t be happier than ever to present the ring back to his precious wife who had been stressing and withering as the time went on.

"Love, come here," Simon called out, his voice calm but urgent. He motioned for her to come closer, his eyes never leaving the small glint of gold in the grass.

He plucked the object from the ground and smiled seeing the ring shine in the golden rays that were the sun's final moments before the moon came out. “Come now my pretty girl.”

As soon as (y/n) reached his side, he held up the engagement ring, showing it to her. "I found it, love. I found it."

She felt her mind go blank and her eyes well up as she let out a sob lurching forward and hugging Simon.

Simon wrapped his arms around (y/n) holding her tightly in his embrace, tears streaming down her face. He held the woman tight, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"It's alright now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "We found it, love. We found your ring." Simon carefully placed the engagement ring back on his wife’s finger, his touch gentle yet firm. As he did, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her cheek as a way to reassure her everything was alright. "It suits you," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It always has. Looks gorgeous on my girl.”

She wiped her eyes as her hands found the back of his neck as her nails scratched into the base of his hair.

“I’m so sorry I lost it,” she murmured into his neck. “I didn’t mean to lose your mama’s ring.”

Simon gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't apologize, love," he said softly. "Those girls took them without your consent. It's not your fault. And you didn't lose them—we found them.”

(Y/n) knew Ghost would defend her until his last breath, and even at that, he would transcend and defend her for beyond human measure.

“I love you,” (y/n) said softly.

Ghosts hand gently caressed her face as he wiped her tears away. “Love you too, pretty girl.” His voice was breathy and a whisper.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn’t in the mix when Ghost confronted the two girls. She could hear the words Ghost growled to them as he lectured them on proper treatment of people in general.

He sounded in that moment, more like a lieutenant than he did her husband and it was a strange thing to hear in his voice when he had always been soft and cute with her.

“He’s gonna be a good father.” Maria hummed as she stood proudly with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah he will,” (y/n) smiled as she rocked in her feet back and forth waiting for him to return to her.

When he did return, (y/n! spent the rest of the night tucked to his side constantly on the receiving end of his hushed whispers of love and adoration.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?” She said softly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Ready to go home, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on pretty girl,” he smirked at her as she knew that look. “I think I need to remind you how pretty you truly are.”

Those words were a reminder that this night could last even longer than she thought they would.

“Yeah pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

[etheries1015]

Fem!MC X platonic Twst - missing the "girly" things.

General warnings: Fem reader, very Self-indulgent. If you don't relate, please keep scrolling along <3 not very proofread. No pronouns are used, but the concept of "girliness" and "girlhood" is very strong.

The boys have noticed their prefect act a bit different lately...a cloud of loneliness hovered over your head. As the only girl of Night Raven College, it was incredibly easy to feel left out and miss the things you were once interested in back in your world. You held a strong façade of prestige and uncaringness, but what happens when that mask begins to crack? How will the boys of NRC put your woes at rest? ...with a wonderful slumber party, of course!

First coming to Twisted Wonderland, not many could tell you were well-versed (Or at the very least, incredibly interested) in clothing, face Care, and jewelry. Although your personality screamed more or less "Gremlin" at times, and were a "well-known and respected honor student" all the same- you had a rather "girly" side to yourself.

However, you had limited options on having a non-existent budget, but a few of the students took notice of the longing in your eyes whenever you passed by something you desired to have back in your life. The cute earrings, the pretty dresses and skirts, the headbands...a mix of classy and modern, things of that nature.

The first time you were able to get your hands on a half way decent outfit that suited your tastes and you wore it out, others stared in shock. You were still the cheery and "weird" gremlin prefect that had crude humor and silly dance moves, yet something about seeing you in such...frills and 'flamboyance' was not what they were expecting. It suited you, though.

You soon found yourself being handed such outfits. Vil had taken it upon himself to gift you expensive brand outfits that he saw your eye when walking around town, Malleus gifting you a few outfits from Briar Valley that he felt would suit your tastes, Kalim gifting you the cutest earrings he had ever seen (little fruit charms, bows, all sorts of colors and unique charms). Even Riddle introduced you to tea cups that fit your aesthetic to decorate your kitchen with!

Though, the more they saw this side of you, an influx of confessions also came in toe. You were revered as the only female in school (who also managed to stay at the top of the score board, despite your magicless disposition). This came with the struggle of being pursued, more so after they could see just how cute you could dress yourself up.

Despite all these new changes, you felt a tinge of... sadness. You were happy that they were all willing to accept you with open arms and indulge in your desires such as gifting you the cutest of plushies, clothes, jewelry, decor... that didn't stop you from missing fun slumber parties, girl talk with friends, giggling about your love lives, sharing clothes and doing each others makeup and painting nails. You confided all of this to the number one group you could have possibly spoke to about these issues of yours.

the pop music club.

A knock came upon the door at odd hours of the night, upon opening it in your nightgown, you revealed quite a sight. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia along with a few other choice students were all in gorgeous nightgowns, their hair done up, holding blankets and pillows with hands full of bags of what you could tell were snacks, makeup, nail polish, and other slumber party commodities. With a bright smile on your face and a giddy giggle, you let them in gushing about their cute appearances. You all lay out the blankets and pillows in front of the TV in the lounge (kindly gifted to you by Idia) and pulled out the snacks and lay them out for everyone to grab at in their leisure.

"We aren't girls," Lilia pointed out, "But at the very least we can enjoy the things you mentioned before! Oh how I love a good love story, shall we share our love lives?"

"We can do that while we put on these face masks! Look, this one is a panda!" Kalim exclaimed, holding up a large bag of face masks and other types of...random things he thought would suit the party. (He pulled out one of those toe dividers for nail polish, he had no clue what it was but Jamil told him he would need it for later.)

"Oh, I brought you this super cute and frilly nightgown (y/n), Trey said one of his sisters didn't wear it anymore and he thought it would look good on you. Go! Try it on, Then we can take a BUNCH of magicam photos. Don't we look like pretty dolls?!" Cater gushed, handing you the night gown. You took it with grace and skipped away to your room, giddy and unable to hold back your excitement.

It wasn't long for more guests to arrive in frilly pajamas and cutesy hair accessories. A string of familiar faces entered, and you soon found yourself braiding the hair of Leona, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Silver...You were shocked to see even Epel made an appearance simply to make you happy.

"I learned how to braid a little bit," Silver smiled gently at you, "And a few other hairstyles. I would be happy to try them on you," He said. You looked at Silvers' perfectly French braided hair and makeup that made him look nothing less than an angel, you nodding in immediate trust. You soon had hair that was done so elegantly, adorned with flowers and gems.

"Let's be clear, I ain't a girl!...but.." Epel blushed, "I-if it'll make you happy...i'll let ya braid my hair. Just this once!"

Floyd and Jade even came along with their faces caked with makeup and the most flamboyant nightgowns you have ever seen, laughing away at their silliness.

"Look Floyd," Jade pointed at your makeup which was lightly placed on by his hand, "I told you these colors perfectly suits (y/n)'s skin." Floyd boo'd and insisted to take off the colors Jade had chosen, holding out the most...vibrant and interesting color palate to exist. You only laughed and backed away, shaking your head and begging floyd to leave your precious face alone.

They truly indulged in everything you had missed out on, even if they weren't your "girlfriends," they were so adamantly ready to try, simply to see you smile once more.

It was a night of snacks, makeup, nail painting, chick flicks, karaoke, gossiping, and frilly fun. You truly underestimated just how much the boys took a liking to you and wished to ease your worries and make you feel a little more at home, and you couldn't have asked for better friends than them.

[macfrog]

you shook me all night long sex on fire chapter one

requested by @whore-4-pedro (hope u enjoy lovely)

lived all my succession fantasies out writing this one icl. enjoy 🖤 check out my masterlist for more joel fun ‼️

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: as joel miller's assistant, you're expected to meet all his needs. some are a little more personal than others

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) creepy dude at the beginning, lotta teasing and touching, mentions of female masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, semi-public sex, daddy kink, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), alcohol and drug use, cursing, low-key inappropriate work relationship (if bad then why sexy?)

word count: 7.8k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more. You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin. “I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?” “Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

It’s Friday night.

You only got home from work an hour and a half ago. Tired, hungry, sore eyes from staring at a screen all night, sore back from sitting hunched over all day. Dumped your bags at the door, ripped your clothes off by your bed, dove straight into the shower. You’d picked an outfit, curled your hair in record time, and even done your makeup before Deb called to say she was out front.

It was a ten-minute drive from your place to the hotel – it’s only a couple blocks from work. The cab driver made light conversation, talked about his daughter and her new puppy, and you both nodded and uhuhed in all the breaks in his sentences. Deb made some comment about it being easier if you’d just stayed at the office until the party, and you’d hummed in agreement, looking out the window at the regal hotel.

Truth be told, you’d rather be doing anything other than attending a work function. You’ve had a long week. A lot of meetings, paperwork, emails to be answered, and most of all, running around after your boss. It’s not all fun and games being Joel Miller’s assistant, regardless of the pay, or the view from your desk over to his.

Your head’s elsewhere when you waltz through the revolving door, heels clicking along the marble floor. The elevator – gold, by the way – slides open and you both step inside, hitting the highest button before you’re swept up twenty floors to the penthouse.

“Did you send those documents over to us yet?” Deb asks.

“Nope,” you reply, slipping out when the elevator dings. “Had to sit in on a meeting with Joel and take the fucking minutes, spent all night writing them up.”

“He won’t be pissed at you?”

“If he hadn’t insisted I was in there with him, you’d have your reports, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs, agreeing.

“Anyway,” you continue, “I can take angry Joel. He doesn’t scare me.”

Deb chuckles as you shoulder the doors to the penthouse open.

It’s a moody dull, lit only by the lights lining the bar and small lamps decorating mahogany tables, sat next to deep green velvet couches. There are clusters of people everywhere you look; stood near shelves filled with leather-bound books, examining the view from the floor to ceiling windows, sprawled out over luxurious chairs with champagne flutes in their hands. There’s a tree in the middle of the room, branches decorated in blinking string lights reaching to a glass dome in the ceiling.

It's, like, sickeningly pretentious. You know it. Hell, you all know it. Still, in your little black dress, you strut over and take a champagne of your own, sipping on the fizzing drink with one elbow resting on the wooden bar.

“There’s my girl,” his voice coos over your shoulder. “Been watchin’ for you all night, took your time.”

You lean back, bored expression on your face.

Joel’s broad chest pulls on the white shirt he’s wearing, same one you just saw him in little over three hours ago, only without a tie; the top couple of buttons are undone to reveal his chest hair peeking through. You try not to let your eyes linger on him too long.

“You look fuckin’ ecstatic to be here.”

He leans against the bar next to you, arms crossed. When you don’t reply, he nudges you. Your champagne jolts in its glass.

“I always look like this. I’m always ecstatic to be everywhere.”

He smiles. “Why aren’t you mingling?”

“Don’t wanna.”

“’s a work event. That’s the whole point.”

“Then why are you over here talkin’ to me?”

His eyes flash across your lips, and you swear they drop for a nanosecond to your chest.

“Come on,” he says, taking your wrist in his huge hand, “some people you oughta meet.”

Joel ignores your sigh and leads you over onto a plush rug, sidling between knees to sit you down on the soft couch between himself and some bald dude in a jet blue suit, whose shirt is also undone, though much further than Joel’s. He has a chest like a hairless cat.

Cue Ball snakes an arm over the back of the couch; his fingers dance across your back. You shimmy a little closer to Joel and he notices instantly, jaw turning slowly to glance over. When he sees your knees angled toward him, seeking protection, he leans back and wraps his left arm around your shoulders, his right coming down to cup your knee.

“This,” he shakes your leg, left arm pulling you tighter against him, “is my wonderful assistant. My right-hand lady. Couldn’t do anything without her, could I?”

“Could wipe your own ass, that’s about it,” you mumble into your glass, and a roar of laughter sounds from your audience.

Joel, still leaning back, pulls his arm from you but keeps his shoulder firmly behind yours, making sure whatever the creep on your left tries, he’ll feel first. Your elbow rests in the crook of his, and you keep it there, quietly enjoying the intimacy of his body caging yours.

His left hand is settled on your thigh. You realize it after a swig of champagne, and start counting in your head how many seconds his fingers stay gripped on your skin.

He talks with his hands – always has. Walks around his office, ranting and raving sometimes, arms swinging around in the air while you take notes, or file your nails, or just watch until he’s done. For the next half hour, though, he only talks with his right hand. Only sips his beer with his right hand. Only scratches his beard, or pulls his phone from his pocket, or reaches up and passes you a second drink, and then a third, with his right hand.

You stay rigid, legs unmoving, eyes barely leaving his knuckles, locked tight around your thigh. There’s heat from his touch siphoning from his palm down through your skin, rippling like waves all through your body and pooling somewhere south of your belly button. No matter how hard you try, you can’t shake it. Can’t stop thinking about it. You barely notice when Cue Ball’s hand ghosts across your back a second time.

But Joel notices, straight away. He flashes the guy a look, and you swear he’s baring his teeth. Eyes locked on the blue suit like it’s a target, never blinking. He doesn’t say anything when his prey excuses himself to the bathroom, and you don’t turn to watch him go, but you do notice three other sharp-suited pricks stand and wander off in that direction after him.

Probably not a coincidence.

Joel still has a hold on your leg. Your flute is empty, and you lean forward to place it on the wooden table at your knees, beginning to stand.

His grip loosens, but he looks up at you as you tower over him.

“Cocktail,” you tell him with a sweet smile, and he nods, letting you go.

You know he’s watching you as you slink away. Is it the alcohol in your system, or something darker, that makes you sway your hips a little more for his benefit?

Deb’s over at the bar with Martha, another of Joel’s assistants. She’s around his age, worked for him much longer than you have, but when he hired you, you took on most of the groundwork. Following Joel’s orders– sorry, requests, organizing meetings, filing paperwork for him. Martha sits at a desk outside Joel’s office, answers the phone and directs anyone who happens to wander up to the top floor of the building.

Did I say directs? I meant strikes coldblooded fear within them and sends them back running the way they came, with just one look and a nod in the opposite direction.

Unless they’re there for a meeting with Joel, that is. And if they are, that’s where you come in. Good morning, Mr. Salazar, Mr. Miller will be right with you. This way, he’s just finishing up a call.

Martha’s a tough nut. But she likes you enough, so she smiles warmly as you approach.

“I’m hearing all about your note-taking this afternoon,” she hums when you hop up onto a barstool, catching the bartender’s eye. He trots over.

You sigh to Martha, eyes wide. “I didn’t leave until, like, eight. What the fuck’s that about? Can I just get a cosmopolitan, please?” you ask, and the bartender nods. He looks about fifteen.

Martha shakes her head, laughing. “He did it to me when I was first startin’ out, too. Told him to stick his minutes where the sun don’t shine.”

“I’ve been here three years,” you mutter, and Deb snorts.

“You’d think Joel would’ve changed his ways in the, what, seven decades since you started, Martha?”

It earns her a slap across the shoulder. You stifle your laugh behind your glass, thanking the teenager who served you it with a nod.

“Twenty years next March, actually,” Martha says.

“That so? D’you think he’ll get you anything for it?”

“If I’m lucky,” she sighs, eyes travelling up to the ceiling in thought, “a lunch break where he doesn’t bother me once.”

“Knowing Joel, that means a lunch break where he bothers you twice.”

You smile, glancing past the pretentious tree to where Joel is, and notice he’s already staring right back. A swarm of butterflies flutter around your stomach, dancing over the heat his handprint left within you. They only grow more violent when he stands and walks over, broad shoulders swaying, eyes flitting up and down your body.

You lean back, sitting up straight, eyeing him right back as he joins the three of you.

“Speak of the devil,” Martha says, and Joel chuckles in response, but his eyes never leave you.

“We were just talkin’ about Martha’s twenty years,” says Deb, winking.

He finally turns to answer her. “Oh, yeah? When’s that, then, old-timer?”

“Dirtball!” Martha yells, and Joel smirks. It goes straight to your core.

“How many Manhattans tonight, then, Deb?”

Deb holds her glass up. “I am on my second, and I will not be exceeding three. We don’t need a repeat of Christmas.”

“Aw,” Joel complains, tutting, “I liked hammered Deb.”

“That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to deal with hungover Deb,” you mutter, and she shoots you a look.

Joel smiles at you, takes a step closer as Deb and Martha begin comparing past hangovers. He leans forward, waves the fifteen-year-old down, and asks for a beer. As he leans back, you notice the weight of his wrist on your right hip. Nicely done.

“You know there are four guys in the bathroom doing coke?”

“I hope to God that’s all they’re doin’. I don’t need another orgyhappenin’ at one of these things.”

You giggle like a fucking schoolgirl. He looks pleased with himself, and you instantly regret it. You try to play it off by lifting your glass back to your lips.

Joel’s studying you, though, mapping every inch of your face. Watching your mouth as it curves around the shape of the glass, your tongue licking your lips after your sip. He tracks the glass as you set it back down on the bar, then his eyes trail along your arm to your dress, and your stomach leaps.

He looks so fucking good, it sends another wave of energy through your body. Dark hair lined with grey, beard much the same. Strong jaw, lips wetting with every sip of beer he takes, dark eyes flitting across yours, holding your stare long enough to melt you a little, and then dipping just before you can read the thoughts behind them.

His skin a little tanned, his neck thick with muscle. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, you’re so close. Close enough that you could lean up, part your lips and sink your teeth under his ear, suck a mark there, taste him on your tongue.

Your head cocks after a few minutes silence, just the two of you enjoying the fucking look of each other. You lean a little against his arm, steady around your back.

“I hate work parties,” you sigh.

Joel scoffs. “Free alcohol, nice penthouse. Cocaine, if you want it. What’s not to like?”

You narrow your eyes and he laughs for real.

“I hate ‘em, too, baby. Gotta keep up appearances, though, don’t we?”

Baby. This fucker.

“Do we?” you squeak, after a few seconds dazed.

He shrugs. “’s what I hear.”

He’s so close you can smell the beer on his tongue. It makes your heart quicken, your body hum with energy. That could just be the alcohol in your system, though, right?

Who are you kidding? It’s fucking Joel doing it to you.

You have no idea how long he was here before you arrived. He left the office around six, and you presumed he’d come straight here to check everything was in order before guests started arriving. How many beers has he had? Is he just drunk, feeling up on you with liquid courage?

You’re mulling over the thought when a pair of hands clamp down on Joel’s shoulders and his hold on your waist loosens. He mumbles an apology as he’s dragged away by a couple of loose-collared, baggy-suit drunks. You shake your head in response, trying to be cool – It’s all good, man. I’m good. I’m not totally fawning over you right now, no way.

Deb swings her barstool around when she notices you’re on your own, inviting you back into their conversation. Thirty seconds into talking about childhood pets, you’re wishing Joel was back around you, igniting your skin and peaking your adrenaline. Max the Pomeranian is a nice picture; Joel’s nicer.

Martha says something with a hand motion, and Deb nods, elbow knocking into yours.

“What?”

She nods toward the balcony. “We’re headin’ out for a smoke, you comin’?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll save your seats.”

They nod and wander off between a crowd, swallowed up by bodies in the direction of the open sliding doors, the blinking lights of the skyline ahead.

You’re twirling the base of your empty glass around on its napkin when you feel that same heat behind you again, and a hand rests on the small of your back.

“Coat,” Joel mutters, pulling his suit jacket on.

“Huh?”

“Get your coat. Everyone’s headin’ across the street.”

“Why is everyone heading across the street?”

He shrugs. “Afterparty, I guess.”

“It’s a work function. It’s like–” you check your phone, “–oh, fuck, it’s almost midnight.” You screw your face up, watching as the small crowd slowly melts away through the suite doors.

“I know. I throw a good party, right?”

“So good, people are leaving it.”

He tuts. “Coat. Now.”

“I didn’t bring one.”

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“You told me the party was here. I didn’t think we’d be walking all over town.”

“’s not all over town, baby,” Joel murmurs with a sigh. “Here.”

He peels the jacket off his shoulders and you hold a hand out to stop him.

“Joel, it’s fine, it’s–”

“Quit moanin’,” he groans as he throws it over your shoulders. He scoops your hair and pulls it softly out from under the collar. “Alright? C’mon.”

He takes your hand and leads you past some stragglers down the hall toward the elevator, where a group are waiting for the doors to open.

“Tight squeeze, Miller,” some dude chuckles as you follow Joel in, his hand still gripping yours.

He turns, backing into the corner, pulling you with him until your back is flush against his chest.

His hands drop to your hips. You swallow back a scream.

One of the accountants is stood in front of your – Harriet? Helen? Something beginning with H – anyway, she keeps knocking back into you, pushed by the sway of the packed elevator. It means you knock a little into Joel, and feel his chin on the crown of your head.

You turn ever so slightly to mumble an apology to him, but when you feel his breath on the shell of your ear, your words die in your throat.

“Hazel?” – That’s her fucking name – Joel reaches around you to tap her shoulder, and her bobbed haircut swings when she turns. “Did you get those balance sheets yet?”

“Not yet, Joel,” she tells him, and your face prickles with heat.

“No? That’s weird.” Joel’s grip tightens on your hips, his mouth dangerously close to your ear. In a low whisper, only to you, he says, “Thought I asked to have ‘em sent over by this afternoon.”

You muster up the courage to reply with a deep breath. From the corner of your mouth, through gritted teeth, you tell him, “That was before you forced me to sit in on a buyers’ meeting.”

You feel his chest rumble between your shoulder blades as he laughs. The elevator shudders to a stop and the doors slide open; the crowd spills out.

You step forward, ahead of Joel, and make it maybe three steps before he’s back on you, an arm draped over your shoulders. You reach up and take his hand, leaning against his strong torso to let him guide you toward the exit.

No idea what makes you do it. Maybe you’re drunk. Maybe not only on alcohol.

You’re the last of the pack, stumbling over air across the gleaming floor toward the revolving door, which Joel pushes open for you. The cool night breeze hits you as you slip out.

The crowd ahead are rushing across the street, yelling and whooping as they go. It’s juvenile, a little cringe. A bunch of rich corporates skipping across the street toward cheap alcohol and peanuts. You’d care more about the way it looks if you were sober.

Joel’s hand finds yours again and he’s leading you down the steps, cutting between parked cars toward the dive bar. You link your other arm around his elbow and he glances down, noting it. You wish the walk was longer.

A flickering fluorescent light drowns you both in a red glow, and Joel pushes the doors open. The place is flooded with half of your party, drowning booths, leaning against the bar, dancing in any open floorspace.

The floor is sticky, the bar dim. Joel takes you over to the same crowd he introduced you to earlier, and makes space for you to sit. You slide along the booth to the wall and he follows, squeezing up to you to let two more in after him.

“Beers?” a guy with a loose tie asks, to a chorus of yeses and a show of thumbs up. Mitch? Mark?

You tug Joel’s jacket from your shoulders – the movement nudges him and he turns to lift it from your back and tuck it behind you, brushing the hair off your shoulders. You smile in thanks, and his hand falls back onto your leg.

It takes you a few minutes to notice it this time. The gentle squeeze of his fingers around your thigh, the way it slowly bumps up each time he adjusts in his seat or shifts to allow space for someone else to join the booth.

His hand moves slowly, dangerously close to pulling your skirt up with it. Mitch or Mark returns with your beers and you take a massive swig, nerves and anticipation and fucking need for Joel to keep doing what he’s doing, taking over.

Under lights blurred by the alcohol in your system, the table buzzes with energy and chatter and laughter. There are posters and stickers all over the walls, graffiti of names and initials, numbers and dates scored into the walls. Joel traces them with his finger and you laugh at some of the messages.

“Lydia and Jack,” you mumble, “12-24-19. Wonder what happened then.”

“Bathroom sex,” Joel replies, eyes scanning the wall.

You scoff, beer to your lips. “On Christmas Eve?”

He nods, like it’s obvious. “Magical time ‘n all.”

You look past him with a smile to the opposite side of the bar where, through silhouetted bodies, you notice a jukebox.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your eyes widen, your mouth agape.

Joel follows your eyeline and then twists back around. “C’mon,” he says, taking your hand and motioning for the others to let you by. He drags you over to the machine, lighting your faces up in yellow light, and your drunk eyes scan the screen.

“Nope." You swipe Joel’s hand away right before he can pick some Pet Shop Boys song.

“Really?”

“Good, but not the vibe,” you tell him, and budge him out of the way with your hip. He sways off, laughing, and leans a palm against the jukebox, his chest on your back for the second time tonight. As your tired eyes scan the songs, Joel’s chin rests on your shoulder.

He’s judging every fucking song you linger on. “Queen? Little before your time.”

“Dick.”

“Fleetwood Mac. Definitely before your time.”

“The entire fucking jukebox is before my time, dude. Shut up. These are good songs.”

You settle on a track and turn to face him. He has you almost fucking pressed against the box.

“Change, please.”

“Oh, I’m payin’, am I?”

“Mhm. Your work party, your wallet.”

He sighs and pushes a fist into his pocket for coins, tossing a quarter into your outstretched palm. You turn back and select your song, put the money in, and the old machine barks out the intro.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “AC/DC? That’s your thing?”

“It’s not yours?” You’re taking him by the hand between bodies, swaying as you go.

He’s laughing, following you until you’re in the middle of the cramped bar, chest to chest, moving together. His hands find your waist again and this time you don’t even flinch; your fingers trail up his shirt, across his chest, settle on his collar.

You fucking swear he’s leaning in, each beat of the song drawing his jaw closer to yours. If you weren’t in a room full of co-workers, you’d probably let him kiss you.

I mean, what you’re doing right now is hardly innocent anyway. His hands are splayed on your lower back, your hips flat against his, rubbing, dancing. Your head rolls back and your lips are under his chin, smiling up at him and singing along. Joel sings the words straight back, your breath meeting and mingling in the tiny gap between your lips.

As the song ends, it fades into another. And another, and another. It’s two in the morning before your group of partiers begin to call taxis. You stumble out of the sweaty bar with an arm linked through Deb’s, still singing along to Whitney as you catch your breath.

She staggers off to a quieter part of the street to call a cab, and you hang around under the red light waiting for her. Joel’s stood at the curb; the back door of his sleek black Rolls-Royce open.

“Where you goin’?” he asks.

“Deb’s callin’ a cab,” you reply, arms folded, shoulders hunched.

Joel shakes his head. “Get in.”

“It’s cool, I’m jumping in with those guys. Thanks, though–”

“Baby,” Joel holds a hand out, “get in.”

Your eyes trace from his palm all the way up his sleeve, to his tired, handsome face. You’re sobering up. He looks clearer. Maybe that’s just the streetlights.

“Get you home in five minutes. C’mon.”

You swivel around to look for Martha and Deb, but they’re nowhere to be seen. The cab will come, they’ll assume you’re staying a while, and get in. No big deal, right?

Well. Stepping into your boss’s car after a night of highly inappropriate touching is kind of a big fucking deal.

That’s why you do it. Waddle over to him, take his hand, let him guide you to the car. You swing a leg in and slip across the seats, admiring the ceiling dotted with hundreds of tiny white lights, like you’re staring straight up at the night sky.

They blur through your drunken gaze, which doesn’t pull from them until you feel the weight of Joel on your right and hear the door slam shut.

“Mind puttin’ the partition up, Rand?” Joel’s voice says, though you mostly hear the vibrations through his chest, where your head is lying. His arm slips around your back, pulling you closer into him as the two of you are granted privacy by the quiet whir of the screen closing.

“Good night?” Joel asks, lips on your hair.

You nod. “You?”

“Mhm.”

His fingers are drawing shapes on your left hip. His right hand intertwines with yours. Your left hand starts to wander.

You liked his hand on you. Liked feeling his grip there. Wanted him to keep moving it up, wanted to see how far he’d take it. So, you put your own hand on the inside of his thigh, just like he did. Starting at the knee, and slowly sliding north. Joel’s breath tightens, his chest lifts, his jaw ticks.

The movement knocks you sober for a couple seconds. You realize what you’re doing. You draw your hand back.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

He unlinks your hands and places a steady palm over your withdrawn fist.

“’s okay, baby. You can do that if you want to.”

The drawl of his voice makes your eyes roll back, your heart leap. Your fucking legs clench.

You let him replace your hand where it was, and his legs widen a little. His crotch more available. You’re watching what you’re doing like you’re not even in your own body; watching it how Joel must be, thinking Higher, higher, keep going, keep doing that.

You lift your heavy head, resting it on his shoulder, and look up into his brown eyes. He’s framed by the starlit ceiling of the car. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, face lined with his expression.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Tired.”

Just then his hand takes yours again and shifts it softly, stopping what was probably about to happen but still holding onto you, still wanting your fingers locked in his. Not halting the train, just switching tracks.

It’s not a long journey, certainly not as long as you’d like, until you’re parked on your street. Rand lowers the partition to call back, and Joel thanks him.

“You okay gettin’ to your apartment?”

“Yup,” you groan, hoisting yourself out of the comfortable car.

“Sure? I can walk you up if you want.”

You bend down, one arm on the roof of the car. “I’m good, thanks. Thanks for the ride, Miller.”

“Be safe, baby.”

“You be safe, too. Bye.”

You throw the door closed and meander off up the steps toward your building. Joel’s car doesn’t roll off until your elevator arrives and you disappear inside.

You spend all weekend in bed, recovering not only from the party but from the week of work you’d endured. You keep yourself busy, though. There’s a Desperate Housewives marathon on TV. And when you’re not watching that, your hand is stuffed down your pants, Joel on your mind.

All. Fucking. Weekend.

In the shower, you’re picturing him on his knees in front of you, lapping you up. Hands gripping your thighs, draped over his shoulders. Your hand plants firmly against the wet tile when you cum, your orgasm threatening to collapse you in a heap.

In bed, you’re on top of him, knees either side of his waist, letting him buck his hips up until you’re screaming, covering him in your wet. Your vibrator battery dies by Saturday night.

Monday morning, you’re getting ready to leave for the office, and need to take ten minutes out to relieve the ache between your legs again. This time, he has you pressed against your bedroom wall, fucking you quick and messy, cumming deep inside you before he’ll let you head out.

It’s just a crush, right? It’s just because of how touchy you guys were on Friday. When you were drunk. And in a cramped, dark dive bar. Everybody gets crushes. And who wouldn’t, on a six-foot-whatever man with a jawline that could cut glass, hands that take a grip of you with minimal effort, a cock probably the size of…

No. Nope. That’s enough. Cut that the fuck out.

It’s just a crush. That’s what you keep telling yourself in the elevator, lights counting down the floors until you’re going to see Joel again. Is the sparkling feeling in your chest fear, anticipation, or excitement?

And is your cunt beginning to throb again?

You give a curt nod to Martha as you arrive, hauling your bag a little further up your shoulder and adjusting the folders in your arms on your hips.

“Where’d you go?” she asks, eyes still on the computer in front of her. Her chin propped on her elbow, face inches from the screen, reading something intently.

“Huh?”

“On Friday. We couldn’t find you when the cab arrived.”

“Oh, I, uh,” you clear your throat, “Joel gave me a ride. Yeah.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Generous of ‘im.”

“Yup.”

“He’s in the conference room waitin’ for you.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You hover for a few seconds, then take your cue to leave. You hurry over to the conference room door, knocking twice before pushing it open.

Joel’s sat at the top of the table, leant back in his chair, feet up on the wood in front of him. You feel like you could collapse.

“Mornin’,” he says, over the dull droning from the phone. Your eyes flit down to it, a question, and he answers, “weekend update.”

“Anything good?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to hit the unmute button, affirm whatever the hell the other dude had been saying, say his goodbyes, and then hang up.

“Feelin’ fresh?” he asks when he’s sat back.

You take a deep breath and wobble your head as an answer, laying files and folders out on the table in preparation for the meeting Joel has this morning.

“That bad, huh?”

“I was fine by Saturday afternoon. How were you?”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t that drunk.”

Yeah. Sure, Joel. Your fingers took the brunt of the alcohol.

He stands up, wanders around the table to join you. Your fingers begin to tremble at the thought of him so close. Your thighs heat.

“This all of it?” he asks. He’s closer than you thought.

“Y-yep. Some copies there, too, if anyone needs a spare.”

His hand slips up between your shoulder blades, patting you gently at the base of your neck.

“Good job, baby.”

You almost fucking shudder. Your stomach jolts, your chest tightens. The ache between your legs pangs, reminding you it’s there, even though you can’t fucking do anything about it.

You spin around, settling back against the table, ankles crossed. Tense.

“How long do you reckon it’ll go on?”

“No idea. Why? Somewhere you gotta be?”

You shake your head. “Just organizing lunch ‘n stuff for you.”

“That can wait until after.”

“I’ll have it ready for you comin’ out. Be easier.”

He steps forward. Your heart stutters.

“You’ll be in here with me.”

You cock your head. “Again? What– Why?”

“I need you in here. To take–”

“–minutes? Yeah, figured as much. You gonna have me up here all night again writing ‘em up?”

He smirks, dimples in his cheeks. There are two options here: either smack him, or jump his bones – he deserves the first and you deserve the latter.

“I like having you in my meetings, darlin’,” he says, as the door handle turns, “stops me wanting to blow my brains out.”

Martha enters and Joel slots in alongside you on the table. She sets a tray with a coffee pot and packets of sugar and milk on the sideboard.

Your head is fucking dizzy. There’s a ringing in your ears. Energy sparkling in waves from the tops of your thighs all through you. Joel’s shoulder brushing against yours, his eyes boring into the side of your face.

You won’t look at him. Won’t take your eyes off of Martha, laying paper coffee cups out in rows, her back to you guys.

Joel lays a palm flat on your thigh, rounding the curve until his hand is firm between your legs, threatening to push your skirt up. You feel his breath hot on your neck, his voice like honey in your ear.

“Makes for a nice view, too.”

You whip around to glare at him. He leans back, chuckling to himself.

Through gritted teeth, you whisper, “Can I talk to you? In private?”

Joel shrugs, excuses you both to Martha, and then follows at your heels out of the conference room and over to his office door. You waltz in without permission, shoving the door open and waiting for him to close it behind himself.

Joel’s office is bright, clean. Giant windows lining three walls, huge desk with an even bigger bookcase behind. Two black leather couches opposite, facing one another with a glass coffee table between. Soft white rugs, obnoxiously huge lampshades, small fern plants dotted here and there. You found and booked the interior designer for him, and not a day’s gone by since that you don’t remind him of how nice a job you did.

Today, though, you break that streak. You round on him as soon as he closes the tall, wooden door behind him.

“Will you fucking quit it?”

“Fucking quit what, baby?” He’s almost laughing, strolling around his desk and settling into his leather chair, leaning back. Casual. Fucking – arrogant.

You stammer, holding up a shaky finger. “Okay, first of all – that. Don’t call me baby, that’s not appropriate. Second – the teasing?”

“I don’t get it, you liked me callin’ you baby on Friday night.”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth and give him a furious stare. He holds his hands up.

“My mistake.”

You stalk over to the windows separating Joel’s office from the reception area. Martha’s still in the conference room, the door ajar. You haul the shades shut to give yourselves some privacy.

“Stop – fucking with me. Stop it. We were drunk on Friday night. It wasn’t– Stop.”

“’m not fucking with you.” He leans his head to scratch his eyebrow. He repeats it when you turn away, hands flying up in the air. “I’m not.”

“Let’s just forget Friday happened, can we do that?”

Wandering around Joel’s office isn’t doing anything to relieve the weight between your legs. If anything, it’s making it worse. You make your way back to his desk and place your hands down on the wood, leaning over.

“Wh…what’s next on the agenda?” you ask, almost panting, your eyes closing.

You hear Joel’s chair rock when his weight leaves it. His footsteps pad across soft carpet, around the desk. Nearing you. They come to a halt and you feel the air stop short, right behind you.

For someone not trying to fuck with you, he’s doing an awfully good job at it.

You surrender, leaning back, your shoulders making contact with his chest. Then his hands find your hips, light, gentle. No pressure on them, not until your ass presses against his crotch and your head tilts, allowing Joel to hook his chin over your shoulder.

He’s hard, under his pants. Against you. You can feel it, still, steady. Rock solid beneath four layers of clothing.

His hands lift from your waist and glide up your shirt front, your stomach tensing when they brush over it. They come to rest over your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples through your shirt. And you fucking let him; lifting your right arm to hook around his jaw and pull him closer into your neck, where his lips leave soft, wet marks.

It feels like the first gasp of fresh, sea air after being underwater. The first gulp of chilled water after a hike. The first wave of aircon in the car. It’s relief. It’s desperate, borderline orgasmic relief.

You grind your ass and Joel hums into your skin. He’s getting harder by the second, you’re getting wetter. It’s not enough, what you’re doing. You need more.

You lower your hand and cup him through his pants, taking hold of his bulge and massaging gently. His hips are moving, he’s rutting into your palm, both of you desperate to rid yourselves of the clothing separating your skin.

“I asked,” you breathe, “what’s next on the agenda?”

“Next,” Joel mumbles into your skin, “was thinkin’ I could bend you over this desk ‘n fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” you repeat, and he nods. You take a breath. “S-sounds good.”

Joel’s hands find the hem of your skirt and start to pull it up your legs, painfully slow, revealing more and more of your bare thighs as he goes. He’s rubbing them, massaging until your skirt sits on your hips, little black panties exposed. His hand comes down to cup you, fingers gently applying pressure to your clit through the lace.

You moan, finally being touched by him again, finally feeling his hands on you where you need it most. Already, he’s doing better, making you feel better than you could ever by yourself. Than you did, by yourself. Involuntarily, you breathe out, “Daddy…”

Joel’s fingers pick up the pace. He fucking loves it.

“That feel good, baby? Like it like that? Tell me how it feels.”

“So – fucking – good,” you whisper, legs parting more to grant him better access. He dips his hand lower, thumb staying planted on your lace-covered clit, fingers shifting the fabric under your entrance aside.

He toys with you first, middle finger swaying back and forth through your folds, collecting slick, spreading it around. Then, a second finger, pushing upward, dangerously close to entering you. You’re gasping, leaning into him, letting his strong form keep you upright.

“That’s my girl,” Joel’s whispering into your ear. “You ain’t gotta do nothin’, just enjoy.”

And then he pushes up, two thick, curled fingers entering your cunt in one motion. He has you down to his knuckles, limp against his chest, mouth wide open in a silent gasp. Your head rolls to the side to watch him as he feels you for the first time, and his expression mirrors yours.

“So fuckin’ wet, babygirl,” he whispers, lips on your forehead.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimper as his fingers press hard inside your soft pussy, starting to pump gently before picking up the pace and fucking you good.

The office is silent, save for your gasps and moans, and the wet sounds of Joel’s fingers in your cunt. He hums into your neck, thumb pressing hard against your clit, drawing tiny circles over the swollen bud.

It doesn’t take fucking long before you’re collapsing, walls clenching, teetering on the edge of your orgasm. It’s all that’s been on your mind for almost three days, all you’ve imagined, dreamt about, thought of.

Joel feels you, knows you’re close.

“Wanna cum all over daddy’s fingers, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you bite back a yelp, “so – close.”

“Know you are, baby. It’s okay, you can cum. Let me feel you.”

That coil, slowly winding since approximately nine-thirty on Friday night, not relieved by your hands, your toys, or your fucking pillows, snaps in one second. The tension breaks across your stomach. Your legs give; Joel’s free hand wraps around your waist to hold you upright.

You throw your head back against his shoulder again, jaw slack with a moan you know you can’t give voice to. Joel fucks you all the way through it, fingers coated in your cum only to dive straight back in, wetter and slicker than before.

There are stars in your vision. You can’t feel between your legs. The office is slowly blinking back into view, but Joel gives you no time to recover.

He pushes you face down onto his desk roughly, hastily, like someone’s about to wander through his door any second. One ear pressed to the cold wood, you hear his belt clink, feel the teeth of his zipper graze your thighs. Hear his deep breaths as he drags his pants and boxershorts down to free his cock.

You’ve never seen him, obviously. You’ve pictured it, dreamt up what it would look like with your fingers deep inside yourself. And from this angle you still don’t see it, but when the weight of it springs against your ass, when Joel lines himself up and his tip dips between your cum-covered folds, you fucking feel it.

His thick head pushing slightly into your entrance, coating him in your slick. He’s big. You moan at the time he’s taking to just shove into you; it’s probably seconds, but it feels like fucking hours.

“I hear ya, I know,” he’s saying, but your hearing’s starting to fade. Blood pumping through your head, white noise rattling against your eardrums.

He pushes in, length separating your clenched walls, entering your wet, warm cunt with a deep growl from Joel’s lips and a gasp from yours. You open up around him, swelling as he pushes deeper and deeper.

“So – fuckin’ – tight for me, baby,” he groans, hands on your hips pulling you back onto his length. “You feel that? Feel how tight you are?”

“Mhm,” you reply, the stretch of his thick cock burning and igniting you in flame. Your eyes screw shut as he keeps pushing, further than you ever thought anyone could, until his tip kisses your cervix and you whine.

“Quiet, babygirl,” he says, pausing and placing a steady hand on the small of your back. “We don’t need anyone out there knowin’ what we’re doin’.”

“So good, daddy,” you whimper quietly, and he knows. He fucking knows.

He begins to draw back, hips leaving your ass, cock pulling out of your pussy. Your eyes roll closed, missing him the more he withdraws. Before he’s fully gone, he snaps back inside, entering you harder, faster, deeper.

You gasp, knuckles whitening with the grip of your balled fists. You bend one arm, biting into your sleeve to stop your whimpers from slipping under the door.

A couple more thrusts and Joel’s fucking you. Hard. He’s fucking huge, so huge it blurs the edges of your vision every time his cock hits against your cervix. He’s almost fucking whimpering behind you, growling your name with every stroke, groaning each time he bottoms out inside you and your tight hole wraps around his length.

You can feel the edge of the table bruising your pelvis, and it feels so fucking good. Everything about this feels good. Joel’s cock stretching you out, his hands gripping you roughly, your own hands outstretched to hold onto the desk for some sort of stability.

The only thought going through your head, only words your lips can part to utter: daddy daddy daddy.

“Good girl,” Joel hums, your moans like music to his ears. “Good fuckin’ girl. Know how naughty you are for me?”

You smile. “Yeah, daddy.”

This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever fucking done. Sure, you love sex, especially when it’s rough. But nothing you’ve ever done with anyone else, nothing you’ve ever had done to you by anyone else, compares to being bent over your boss’s desk and fucked dumb by him.

Calling him daddy, corporate managers slowly filing into a conference room just outside. Only an unlocked door separating them from you, writhing and throbbing under Joel’s cock, his rough hands on your hips, your name passing his lips in breathy moans.

Is it wrong? Yes. Do you care? Fuck no.

You know he’s close; his thrusts become sloppy, hips start hammering against you.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” he grunts, skin slapping.

You’re on the pill, and if you answered honestly, you’d tell him to finish inside you. But you know that if he wanted to do that, he’d just fucking do it. Wouldn’t ask. And you’re not prepared to waste time arguing.

“My m-mouth.”

“C’mere.” Joel slips out of you with no effort, you’re so fucking soaked for him, and spins you around. A gentle hand on your shoulder, he pushes you onto your knees, free hand jacking his cock over you.

It’s the first time you see him, fist tugging up and down a thick, veiny shaft; swollen, reddened tip spilling precum which his thumb collects and drags down his length, gleaming with your wet.

On instinct, you push forward, one hand coming to rest on his thigh, the other taking over from his on his dick. You pump him a few times, and then open your mouth wide enough to take him all the way until he’s brushing the back of your throat.

With a choke, you begin bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollow, breathing deep through your nose. Joel moans, head rolling back, hand coming to hold your hair in a fist. He drags you back and forth a few times before he begins to shudder and you draw back, holding him steady on your swollen bottom lip.

He looks down at you and your eyes lock as he cums all over your tongue. You moan as your mouth fills with his warm, salty load. When his cock stills and he stops spilling all over you, you lean back and close your mouth, licking your lips and swallowing him.

“Aw, babygirl,” he coos, stroking your hair. “Good job. Such a good girl for me.”

You both take a few seconds to catch your breath before Joel’s hands hook under your arms and he pulls you back up, letting you lean against his desk.

Still in a daze, you feel him tug your skirt back down, fix your shirt. Tuck your hair behind your ears, wipe either saliva or cum from your lips.

“Good?” he asks, and you lace your fingers in his.

Your breath is still shaky, but through a sigh, you say, “Good.”

He nods. “Can hear Ken out front, must all be arrivin’.” He pulls you over to the door.

His fingers wrap around the handle, free hand coming up to cup your cheek. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. You open your mouth and let his tongue past, moaning into the wet, messy kiss.

Something in you almost wants to laugh, thinking about the fact you let him fuck you before you’d even kissed him.

When he pulls away, your hands take hold of his jaw, keeping him at your height.

“Have a good meeting,” you whisper, pecking him on the lips, “text me what you want for lunch.”

He growls, yanking the door open and passing by you, granting your wish to sit this one out. Something in you tells you not to wander far, though.

He’ll probably want to blow off some steam when he’s done.

----------

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[solbaby7]

Forbidden Fruit

cassian x rhysand’s sister!reader

[ part one ] you are currently reading part two

[ masterlist ]

warnings: smut babe, swearing, probs typos, underlying tones of some predator/prey kink but it’s super mild, fucking your brothers best friend, unprotected sex (lol don’t do that), minors DNI

summary: The General Commander of the Night Court finds himself falling for the High Lords precious little sister.

—

Cassian was a handsome male.

Not to be cocky or arrogant but he knew his face was appealing—knew that females lusted after him and his body in a way that had become utterly natural to him. Easy even.

This. You—were anything but easy.

You were complex. Intricate. Delicately woven by caring hands that added an abundance of brains and wit. You were enigmatic, drawing in even the most prickly of persons with your attentiveness. A balm that soothed over vicious wounds and angry scars. You were the sun and the moon and all the air between it; free and malleable, warm and waning. Cassian had never met a female so cunning—so effortlessly everything.

The awareness of such a rarity instills a certain pressure on the General’s shoulders. One that felt more stressful than war. Truly, he’d endured battles that hadn’t even begun to set his stomach in such a state of fluster.

It’s nerve-wracking, so much so that Cassian had already wrestled through half of his closet, changing shirt after shirt because one fit too tight which seemed a little too eager. But, the other shirt was too loose and make him look like he wasn’t putting in enough effort. Black shirts were too plain. Red was too out there. Blue didn’t feel like him and he’d be an idiot to arrive at a party wearing his leathers.

Wings ruffle in frustration, inky hair unbound and falling at his shoulders as he stares at the mess of cloth loitering his floors.

He nearly gives up, fully intent on marching over to wherever you were naked from the waist up before hazel eyes catch on the fluttering red ribbon in his peripheral.

A breath escapes him, the beginnings of a smile curling onto his face when taking in the outfit hanging from his door, perfectly tied with your taunting crimson beacon. Stress dissipates as if it never was there in the first place, the lingering notes of your scent stuck to the fabric and Cassian wastes no time putting in on, fingers still fastening buttons as he all but stumbles from his room.

He’s acutely aware of the house he lives in more than he’d ever been before, honeyed irises tracking every nook and cranny until he watches sight of fluttering red dangling from the chandelier. It’s too high to collect but once he notices it, the ribbon disappears in a puff of darkness before reappearing a few feet away.

Anticipation builds the further he follows, palms sweaty and heart hammering against his ribcage in excitement as he’s ushered to your wing of the mansion, led down a flight of stairs and nudged towards a hallway he doesn’t remember ever seeing before.

Your scent seeps through the cracks of thick set of double doors, ribbons righting the way closer and closer to you and Cassian’s heart echoes like a drum. Sweaty palms rub against his pants, tongue licking along the seam of dry lips as anticipation swells, throbs, aches its way to the surface until the handle of the door is all but ripped from the frame in his attempts to get to you.

It’s savage. Carnal. Animalistic in the way he trudges through the sea of bodies, the thick scent of mirthroot and tobacco, sweet perfumes and musky colognes, insence that burns strategically around the space—yet still through the thick of it all, he finds you.

Sweet almond. Warm vanilla and brown sugar. Pleasant in every way; captivating, luring him closer and closer with flashes of your face through the crowd. With sounds of your laughter cutting through the musics deep bass. With fluttering red ribbons that vanish before calloused hands can find comfort in the silky indulgences you offer.

Cassian knows he's nearly got you. Especially once you've figured out a way to slip from his view, the onyx curtain of your hair fading in and out; drifting between the fray, camouflaging in your surroundings--just as prey would once they realized they're being hunted. "Excuse me," He mutters, righting drunken bodies that stumble into him without so much as a glance. He's sturdy, stance firm and steps sure when following that tether; the gleaming line that thrums alive as if you've plucked it; strummed at it like those gifted muscians and their carefully tuned instruments.

Maybe its by chance but Cassian boyishly prays that its fate; a divine intervention that allows you to fall right in his arms, too occupied in checking your back to notice the male standing right in front of you until contact ensues. "Got you."

He's won.

He's finally got you in his grasp, eyes bright and lips soft. The slow blink you offer when you peer up at him is utterly feline and entirely too cozy; almost as if you'd purposefully wandered in his crosshairs.

Who cares? Cassian supposed the semantics off it all doesn't matter as long as your hands remain on his arms, the polished shine of your manicure the perfect contrast again the dark shades of his shirt. "Should do that part outside next time. Make it last a little longer." You muse, voice a little slower than usual and it takes little time for the Commander to acknowledge the tinge of liquor on your breath.

“Next time?” He barely notices the plethora of bodies around him, tunnel vision taking over until he’s too ensnared in your trap to acknowledge familiar faces if their features weren’t yours. Soft cheeks, sharp eyes. That inviting mouth and the pressure of the power that emits when you use it. Makes him want—makes him crave and yearn until he feels drunk on your touch and high on your aura.

“I said once you’ve found me you can have me.” It’s a dangerous game. Waving food at a starving animal. Making demands and delaying the inevitable just for the sake of having the desire to do so. His gaze is weighted; calculating, determining just the amount of time it’ll take to lure you away from wandering eyes long enough to get his paws on you. To sink his teeth in supple flesh and leave his mark; letting everyone know that you were his by right—after all, he’d earned it. “What are you waiting for?”

Desperation lives in the grip Cassian has on the back of your neck, leading you through the crowd and urging you towards the left—towards your personal quarters—neatly tucked away from others and yet the wards welcome Cassian without question. “You knew I’d find you.”

“I’d hoped,” You confess, shamelessly leaning into the possessive grip he has on you, the calloused bite of his fingertips applying just the right amount of pressure to the throbbing pulse below your ear. Your composure waivers; takes a second too long to refortify itself before facing the object of your desires. “Figured if you wanted to, you would.”

The door to your room closes behind him, lock twisting in place and he’s not subtle in the way he takes in the new space. Admires the way it’s filled with you. Lit with candles smell like you. The distant bass of the music just down the hall sounds just like your defiant soul. “Oh, I want to.”

“So does everybody else.” Goosebumps loiter Cassian’s skin from the soft drag of your lips against the curve of his ear. “But you, you can keep this a secret, can’t you?” Teeth tug at the lobe, a grin growing at the grip that tightens around your waist in retaliation. “Won’t go running your mouth to anyone who’ll listen after I’ve had my way with you?”

“No,” His knees all but buckle when you press a kiss to his neck, your pleased hum rumbling against his chest. “I won’t say anything.”

“Good boy,” A shiver rakes down his spine, nerves on overdrive by the gentle assault of your nails tickling along the expanse of Cassian’s bare arms, the thick of his muscles caging you in and knowingly or not, his hips press harder into yours at the crooned compliment. “And you found me so quickly,” Your cadence goes breathy, brows furrowing in pure delight when you feel the hard length of his cock straining through his pants. “Surely that deserves a reward?”

“Please.”

“Well, I did ask for you to hunt me.” He’s driven by the pure lust you emit, fueled by your hands tracing over every divot you could reach. “And predators usually eat the prey they catch.” His mouth salivates at the very suggestion, hundreds of memories of that same fantasy flashing behind the back of his kids with each blink.

Mischief burns to life in your eye, a beautifully cruel smirk plastering itself across your face as you use that nifty daemati ability of yours to skid past the crumbling barriers of Cassian’s mind; breaching the poorly guarded threshold.

And much to your delight, the only thing filling the General’s brain was you.

You, bent over the edge of the training ring with your tight training leathers shoved down to your ankles and Cassian’s face stuffed between your thighs. You, sitting on the kitchen counter in your nightgown, it’s silky material tucked between your teeth and a brick wall of an Illyrian absolutely feasting on your pussy. You, a million other ways, in a billion other places twisted into a trillion different positions.

“Eating seems to take up a lot of your thoughts.” A downright desperate groan rips free from Cassian’s throat when lean back on your elbows, knees dropping to the side and a glossy red manicure beams against your skin as a flimsy thong is exposed. “Lucky for you, a good host always provides for her guests and I’ve added something special to the menu tonight.” You don’t even have to ask—he just hoists your hips up to his face, hands cupping the fat of your thighs, fingers digging in the sensitive flesh and you swear you can feel his breath through the fabric.

“Fuck,” The swear drawls out, his honeyed stare fixated on the way you nudge your underthings to the side and present yourself to him with that fucking look in your eye and your teeth biting into your bottom lip. “You're pretty everywhere.”

Every carefully curated response melts into the puddle of arousal that the Night Courts General laps at like a godsdamned dog in heat. One massive arm rests at the soft part of your belly, large hands keeping a firm grip at your thigh to hold you open for him as his tongue eagerly explores the sodden mess of your sex. Each of your moans are rewarded with soft suckles to your clit, the flat of his tongue firmly tracing out the letters of him name over and over until your tugging at his hair—too push him away or shove him in closer, you can’t tell. “Cassian,” you whine, cupping at your breasts, tugging on pebbled nipples and fighting your soul to stay in your body when two thick fingers are eased into you.

So full. So full and thick and you're sure you've been scooped up by the tide and jostled about the sea when his fingers curl, blunt nails rubbing against the gooey spots inside you.

Pleased grunts vibrate against your bundle of nerves, sending sharp shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine; tugging and tugging and tugging at the coil buried in your gut. “That’s it,” Arousal drips from his chin, smearing at his cheeks and coating the soft hairs of his trim beard. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” Hips buck up into his mouth, all but riding his tongue and fucking yourself on his fingers until the dam breaks and your release gushes on his hands, down his arms, dripping on the floor by his knees but he doesn’t stop for a second. “O-oh fuck!” Experimental scissoring of his fingers forces your eyes to squeeze shut, a blush burning across your cheeks and down your chest as he watches the way you clench around them, cunt sucking him back in for more. “Gods. Cass—Cassian.” You all but sob, brows furrowed and toes curling from the stretch; from the slight burn that bleeds into raw satisfaction.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about you like this,” Thighs shake by his ears, sliding along the line of his shoulders and loosely hooking along the defined taper of his waist as he wastes little time in undoing the confines of dark breeches, separating the material just enough to show off the thick bulge straining against his boxers. “How long I’ve waited to finally get my hands on you.”

Except, you did.

Cassian was a loud thinker; projecting this perverted little fantasies like arrows cutting through the wind and they always hit their target. It was impossible to ignore, just like the leaky erection that’s revealed from thin fabric and tap, tap, tapped against the sloppy mess of your pussy.

“I’ve got an idea,” You barely get the syllables free, heart racing and blood pumping as the Illyrian slots between spread legs like he was made to fit there, melting into your warmth and exploring every inch you allow. “But, I tend not to believe things unless it’s showed to me.”

“I can do that.” He’s so gentle at first it makes you squirm, hips writhing for more already, cunt clenching on the fat tip of his prick as arousal leaks down your asscheeks. “Mother help me, you’re fucking soaked—this all for me?”

You’re already nodding along, muttering pleasant words wrapped in raw sugar and tied with rich satin bows in varying shades of crimson and ruby; deep vermillion and deep mahogany—fluttering symbols of the burly man before you and the victory he claims between supple thighs. “There’s more where it came from if you’d just stop teasing me.”

“My heiress is impatient,” Cassian teases, his voice deep and cock even deeper as inch after inch is fed to you. His gaze tracks your every response, marking the pout of your mouth and the furrow of your brow as he reaches places you hadn’t realized existed within you. Soft mewls accompany the bite of your nails in his biceps, the dark fan of your hair teasing down your shoulders as you watch where he begins and you end. “How rude of me to keep her waiting.”

Your stomach clenches with a burning need, pussy slick with fresh arousal when realizing Cass isn’t really addressing you but more so the mess between your legs.

Inch by inch is fed to you tortuously slow, whines and pleas shushed away by a deceptively comforting voice that promises to give you what you want if you just allow him his fun first. His cock splitting you open makes it easy to comply, lids lazy and arms flexing with the effort it takes to stay raised enough to watch. “Look at you,” Cassian mutters, thumbs spreading slick lips to watch the way your cunt gobbles him up. “Just made for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” It’s not nearly enough friction, the slow rock of his hips as he commits the sight of both of you together to memory. Every line and curve, every stretch mark and mole, scars and swirling tattoos of endless obsidian. The heave of your chest and the wrecked moan that escapes you when the pace picks up; when curious touches become confident caresses. “Cassian—please.”

He’s too far gone for words. Hips smacking against the back of your thighs as every ounce of his weight is put into making sure the shape of his cock carved its way into your womb. The firm way his lips slot over yours mid-thrust is everything; like finding water in the desert. Like sun on a cloudy day. Like being given food after enduring starvation.

His touch is claiming. The taste of him branded on your tongue, the shape of his teeth carved onto your shoulder. Warm palms drag along your curves, fingers leaving their mark on every inch; like those rabid dogs that piss on their territory. Throaty moans spur his possessive streak, fingers rubbing circles against a puffy clit just to chuckle at the involuntary jerk of your thighs and the slutty spit of your cunt.

Over and over and over again you’re brought to the precipice, that coil in your belly stretched taut until Cassian willed it to release. “That’s my girl,” He kisses into your neck, nosing at the slope of your shoulder and all but growls in pleasure at the smell of you and him combined. Together at last. A dream come true. A prophecy falling into place. Fate forged into fruition. “All mine,” He huffs into your hair, rhythm going sloppy and thrusts pressing just a touch deeper. “All of you belongs to me.”

It’s a horrible idea. Feeding this beast. Granting it exactly what it wants now and expecting it to wait patiently for its next meal. To go against its very nature to take and take and take until it had its fill.

Screw it. Consequences be damned when Cassian felt so good. When his want was so palpable with every orgasm he coaxed from you.

All yours; you agree in the way you allow him to suck marks along your collarbone. Every inch of me belongs to you; you comply with every demand he utters—with every rope of cum that paints your walls.

You almost think it’s over until your chin is gently pinched in his grasp, guiding you to face him, to look him in the eye while disheveled and sweaty; cheeks rosy and chest heaving as you caught your breath. “I could start fires with the way I feel for you.”

“I can handle the burn.”

[fullsandwichmiracle]

Welcome to Amsterdam | Part three: Last day of the festival.

Part two

Paring: Joost Klein x female!reader 

Description: Leaving Joost's place thinking you were just one of his one nightstands, meeting up with your friend and going to the last day of the festival. There you meet Joost who was confused by your sudden departure, begging you to let him try and convince you that you meant something more. 

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, oral giving, PIV ,unprotected , Joost being a bit rough, smoking, alcohol

Word count: 4K+

When you woke up, you found yourself cozily entwined with Joost, his hand nestled under your shirt, gently holding your breast. You carefully moved yourself from his embrace and slipped into yesterday's clothes, opting for Joost's shirt instead of your own. As you glanced back at him before leaving, he looked serene, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, you hesitated by the nightstand. You wanted to linger a moment longer, to savor the intimacy of the night just passed, yet the reality of the situation nudged you forward. With a soft sigh, you picked up a pen and wrote on the note: "Thanks for the night / Y/N ♥ ️". 

Though you felt a pang of guilt for not saying goodbye in person, you believed it was the best course to avoid any potential awkwardness. With quiet steps, you made your exit, ensuring not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

As you closed the door behind you, you checked your phone and noticed a message from Sara:

5 minutes ago: Should I wait for you or go without you to the festival?

You quickly replied:

I'm on my way back, taking an Uber. I will be at yours in 5.

In the Uber, you texted Sara again as you approached her place:

I'm outside in like 1 minute, can you open the door for me?

Yes 👍🏼

You stepped out of the Uber and walked towards Sara, who was standing in the doorway with a welcoming smile.

"Morning," you greeted her with a sheepish grin.

"Morning," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "How was your night?"

"Interesting," you said, laughing lightly. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"Can't wait," Sara chuckled. "Come on, we need to get ready for the festival, we can't miss the last day"

You followed Sara inside and headed straight to your room to freshen up. Changing into your festival outfit—tiny jean shorts and a pink bikini top—Sara filled you in on the day's plans.

"We're meeting up with some others at noon," she said, fixing her hair. "There's a great lineup today so I hope you're ready to dance."

"Always," you replied with a grin. "Who's coming?"

"Some friends from the club," Sara answered. "Plus a few new faces. It'll be fun."

You nodded, anticipation building as you imagined the day ahead, filled with music, new friends, and endless moments of joy under the summer sun.

After you finished getting ready, you joined Sara in the kitchen, where she was sipping a drink. 

"I'm so glad you could make it," Sara said, handing you a drink she just made. "Today's going to be epic."

"I'm excited too," you replied, taking a sip. It was fresh with just a hint of alcohol.

Sara agreed, "It's gonna be awesome."

With everything set, you grabbed your essentials and followed Sara outside, ready for an unforgettable day at the festival. The buzz of anticipation growing stronger with each step. As you arrived near the festival grounds, the music thumped in the distance, drawing you closer to the vibrant energy of the crowd.

"I can already feel the beat," Sara grinned, leading the way through the entrance grabbing on to your hand as she skipped along instead of walking. "Let's find our friends and kick off this day!"

You followed Sara into the lively festival atmosphere.The sun was shining brightly, and the area was already buzzing with festival-goers. As you walked, you felt excited and ready for a new day. The night's events still lingered in your mind, but you pushed them aside, focusing on the day ahead.

You and Sara quickly found your new friends, who welcomed you with hugs and cheers.

"Sara! You made it!"  some guy shouted over the music.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sara replied, joining the group. “This is Y/N, the girl that went missing last night” ,you waved to everyone with an embarrassed smile. Had she told everyone you went home with someone; did they know it was Joost?

You, Sara, and your new friends made it to one of the sets you had been talking about, watching from the pit. All of you danced along to the songs playing from the stage, caught up in the electric atmosphere. The crowd around you was buzzing with energy, everyone moving in sync with the music. As the bass reverberated through the air and the lights flashed in time with the beat, you felt a sense of unity and exhilaration. You shared smiles and laughter, the music creating an unforgettable experience.

The day flew by in a whirlwind of music, dancing, and laughter. You let yourself get lost in the rhythm, savoring every moment. As the sun began to set, you found yourself standing at the edge of the crowd, taking in the vibrant scene before you. The music flowed through the area, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

You watched as the colorful lights started to illuminate the festival grounds, casting a magical glow over everything. The sky turned shades of orange and pink, creating a stunning backdrop for the evening. You took a deep breath, feeling the excitement and energy of the crowd mingling with your own.

"Hey," a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned to see Joost, smiling warmly. "Hey," you replied, feeling a flutter of surprise.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said, stepping closer.

"Same here," you admitted. "How are you?"

"Good, good," he nodded. "I got your note. Thanks for that."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm not good at goodbyes," you explained. "Thought it was better to slip out quietly."

"I get it," Joost said, his gaze meeting yours. "But I'm glad I ran into you because you never gave me your number," he said, reaching out for your hand.

"Oh, I didn't think you wanted it," you replied, looking down at his hand enveloping yours.

"Why not?" Joost asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

"I don't know, just assumed," you answered, still looking down, not ready to make eye contact.

"Huh, I thought I made it obvious," he said, using his free hand to lift your chin, making you look into his eyes.

They were dreamy, blue like the ocean or the sky on a perfect summer day. As you faced him, you gave him a small smile.

"Do you think I could convince you to give it to me over a few drinks, my treat?" he asked with a hopeful grin.

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Alright," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Drinks sound good."

Joost's smile widened. "Meet me at my trailer in one hour, okay?" he said, letting go of your hand.

You nodded. "Sure."

"Great," he replied, his eyes sparkling. "I promise it'll be worth it."

As Joost turned to leave, you watched him disappear into the crowd, your heart pounding. You returned to your friends, unable to wipe the smile from your face. The festival seemed even more vibrant now.

As the sun continued its descent, you and your friends danced with abandon, swept up in the infectious rhythm of the festival. Laughter and chatter filled the air around you, mingling with the beats of the music that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment.

Occasionally, you stole glances at your watch, ensuring you wouldn't lose track of time. The anticipation of meeting Joost at his trailer added an extra spark to your movements, making every second count as you enjoyed the company of your friends and the electrifying atmosphere of the festival.

As the hour approached, you excused yourself from the dance floor. Making your way through the crowd, you navigated the festival grounds until you found Joost's trailer in the backstage area.

You knocked lightly on the door, heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. The door swung open, revealing Joost standing there with a welcoming smile that sent a rush of warmth through you.

"Hey," he greeted you warmly as he stepped out. "Ready for an incredible evening with an incredible guy?" He reached out to give you a hug.

"Hi to you too," you replied, accepting the hug warmly with a chuckle.

As you parted from the hug, he casually draped his arm over your shoulder and guided you towards the bustling bar area at the festival. The air was alive with laughter and music, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as you navigated through the lively crowd.

Conversation flowed easily between you as you found a spot at the bar, ordering drinks and sharing anecdotes from the festival so far. The warmth of his arm around your shoulder felt comforting and familiar, adding to the festive ambiance surrounding you.

As the night wore on, you both became increasingly absorbed in each other's presence.

"Wanna head to town?" he offered as the festival neared its close.

You nodded, allowing him to lead the way out.

The festival lights adorned the night sky with a mesmerizing array of colors, creating a magical ambiance. Hand in hand, the two of you continued to wander the festival grounds before eventually making your way towards town.

As you made your way into town, Joost reached into his pocket and retrieved a packet of cigarettes. With practiced ease, he plucked one with his lips, then glanced at you and softly asked, "Want one?" Extending the pack in your direction.

You accepted with a smile. "Thanks," you replied, taking one and placing it between your lips. You reached into your pocket, retrieved a lighter, and ignited it.

Joost paused, halting his steps as he patiently awaited you to light your cigarette. After you took your first inhale, you glanced up to find Joost nearby, anticipating your help to light his. He shielded the flame with his hand against the breeze. As you lit his cigarette, he drew in a breath to even out the burn, then tilted his head back, exhaling smoke into the night sky. 

Afterward, he leaned down and kissed you. "Thank you, Liefje," he murmured, using the affectionate term from the night before. You were taken aback by the kiss and his use of the endearing pet name.

He wrapped his arm around you as he started to walk again, chatting all the way to the bar about everything and anything. The warmth of his touch and the ease of your conversation made you feel completely at ease.

As you reached the bar, a fan approached him, asking for a photo. He released his arm from around you and took the fan's phone, reaching it out to you. "Can you take it?" he asked, tilting his head with a playful smile.

"Of course," you replied, taking the phone and snapping a few photos. The fan thanked you both profusely before heading off with a huge grin.

Joost turned back to you, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks for that. Now, how about we get some drinks?" He signaled to the bartender and ordered for both of you.

As you waited for your drinks, he leaned in closer. "You know, I've been thinking about you all day," he confessed. His sincerity made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but smile in return.

"Me too," you admitted, looking into his eyes and thinking about yesterday's events. As the memories played back in your head, you felt a blush creeping up. "Yesterday was great," you continued, looking down at the table to hide your reddening face from just the thought alone.

Joost noticed your reaction and chuckled softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so you could meet his gaze. "You don't need to hide," he added with a playful wink. Feeling a bit more at ease, you smiled back at him. His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek. "I had a great time too.”

The bartender arrived with your drinks, breaking the moment. Joost handed you your drink and raised his glass. "Proost!" he said smiling before taking a chug of his drink. 

The two of you chatted and laughed, sharing stories and enjoying each other's company. The energy buzzed around you, but it felt like you were in your own little world. As the night went on, you found yourselves moving closer.

Eventually, the music from the stage caught your attention. Joost stood up and extended his hand. "Shall we dance?" he asked with a smile.

"Absolutely," you replied, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you back into the heart of the dance floor, eager to spend the night dancing together. He held you close from behind, just as he had the night before, and you melted into his arms, moving in sync with the music.

"Have I convinced you yet, schat?" he said, whispering in your ear as you swayed with him.

You glanced back, still keeping your back towards him, a smile playing on your lips. "Maybe," you answered coyly, before turning your head away.

Joost took your hand and swiftly spun you around to face him. "So, can I get your number then?" he asked, tilting his head once more with a hopeful expression.

You met Joost's gaze, a playful glint in his eyes matching the slight grin on his lips. His charm was undeniable, and you found yourself caught up in the moment.

"Well, you'll have to earn it," you teased, your voice soft as you leaned in closer to him.

Joost chuckled, his hand still gently holding yours. "I like a challenge," he replied with a wink, his confidence adding to the allure.

The night air was warm around you, filled with the sounds of laughter and music. You felt a surge of excitement as Joost leaned in closer, kissing you passionately and dipping you playfully making you laugh.

He pulled you back up, his hand now resting gently on your waist. "So, have I earned it yet?" he asked with a teasing grin.

You pretended to ponder for a moment, enjoying teasing him. Finally, you leaned in and whispered your number in his ear.

Joost's smile widened as he heard your whispered number, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "Excellent," he murmured, his voice low and husky with satisfaction as he pulled out his phone and quickly added you to his contacts so as not to forget it. 

The music continued to pulse around you as Joost kept his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. The playful energy between you intensified. 

"I look forward to getting to know you better," Joost said, his tone sincere as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of anticipation. "Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in, kissing you once more before whispering in your ear, "Wanna go somewhere private? Maybe your place this time."

His warm breath against your ear sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced up at Joost, meeting his gaze filled with desire.

A smile played on your lips as you nodded in agreement. "Sure," you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the music. Joost took your hand, leading you out as he had done the day before. 

Arriving at your place, Joost held your gaze as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. Leaning in, he kissed you pushing you against the door, the unexpected chill causing you to jump back from the passionate embrace. 

Joost chuckled softly at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement and desire. He took a step back, giving you space to collect yourself, though his gaze remained intense and inviting.

"Sorry about that," he said with a sheepish grin, his voice husky with lingering passion. "Got a bit carried away."

You couldn't help but smile back, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. "It's okay," you replied softly, your heart still racing from the sudden intensity of his kiss.

He reached out, his hand lingering on your arm as he leaned closer again, his lips brushing against yours in a gentler, more tender kiss this time. The warmth of his touch and the lingering taste of him on your lips sent a wave of desire through you.

Breaking away momentarily, you stepped back to retrieve your keys and unlocked the door. As you stepped inside and closed the door behind you, Joost wasted no time. He pressed you against the door once more, his kiss hungry and passionate, as if he had been desperate to taste you all night.

Joost's kiss was electrifying, filled with the pent-up desire of the evening. His hands gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss as he pressed his body against yours. The door behind you provided a solid support as you melted into his embrace, the heat of the moment enveloping both of you.

Lost in the sensation of his lips on yours, you felt a surge of excitement and longing. Joost's touch was tender yet urgent, his breath mingling with yours in the closeness of the kiss. Time seemed to stand still as you both savored the intensity of the connection that had been building throughout the night.

His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure through you. Each touch, each caress fueled the fire between you, intensifying the mutual desire that had simmered beneath the surface.

"I need you," Joost whispered against your skin, his voice husky with desire. His words sent a thrill through you.

Before you could respond, the room suddenly lit up as Sara entered, her presence surprising you both.

"Well, I guess welcome home to my house," she quipped with a knowing smile, clearly amused by the scene unfolding before her.

You and Joost quickly separated, though the charged atmosphere lingered between you. Sara's arrival had interrupted a moment that was becoming increasingly heated, leaving an awkward but humorous tension in the air.

Joost cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Sorry, Sara," he said, running a hand through his messy hair with a sheepish grin. "We didn't mean to... uh, intrude."

Sara chuckled softly, shaking her head as she leaned against the doorway. "No worries," she replied casually. "Just didn't expect to find you two making yourselves… '' she stopped for a  moment before she continued “ So homely”

You felt a blush rising to your cheeks, trying to find the right words to diffuse the situation. "It's not what it looks like," you managed to say, though the glint in Sara's eye suggested she was thoroughly enjoying teasing you.

Joost stepped in, ever the smooth talker. "We were just... getting comfortable," he said, his tone light but with a hint of mischief.

Sara raised an eyebrow playfully. "Uh-huh," she teased, drawing out the syllable. "Well, don't let me interrupt. I'll just grab a drink and let you two continue... getting comfortable."

As Sara disappeared into the kitchen, you couldn't help but laugh softly at the situation. Joost grinned at you, his eyes filled with amusement and lingering desire. Despite the interruption, the chemistry between you was undeniable.

"So," Joost said, breaking the brief silence, "where were we?"

You smiled, feeling a rush of anticipation. "I think we were just getting started," you replied, your voice tinged with a playful invitation. Taking Joost's hand, you led him towards your room, passing through the kitchen where Sara was filling a glass of water at the sink.

"Just yell my name if you want me to join you guys," Sara called out with a laugh as you crossed the threshold into your room.

You turned back with a smile. "I promise we'll be quiet," you reassured her, closing the door behind you.

In the intimacy of your room, you met Joost's eyes once again, now dark with desire.

The quiet of your room and the atmosphere cracklin with anticipation. Joost closed the distance between you, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a mixture of longing and excitement. The playful banter with Sara had added a touch of lightheartedness to the moment, but now it was just the two of you, the intensity palpable.

He gently cradled your face in his hands, his touch both tender and commanding. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. Leaning in with hunger, he kissed you passionately, guiding you backwards until the edge of your bed met the back of your legs. With a deliberate push, he got you onto the bed, urgency evident in his movements. He swiftly removed his shirt and then moved atop you, his lips seeking yours again as he left a trail of eager kisses and marks of desire on your neck. Soon, his attention shifted downward, to your chest adorned only by the pink bikini top from the festival. 

His hand slid down, shifting the top slightly and leaving your nipple exposed to the cool air. "So fucking beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire, as he squeezed your breast before taking it into his mouth. His lips danced on your skin as he fondled you, eliciting a small moan from you that you bit your lip to stifle.

Your breath quickened as Joost continued his motions, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. His lips and tongue teased and caressed, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You arched into his touch, your hands finding their way into his hair as you surrendered to the sensations coursing through your body.

Joost lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you," he whispered, his voice rough with need.

The intensity of his words sent a thrill through you, your own desire matching his. Without hesitation, you reached for him, pulling him closer as your lips found his in a hungry kiss. The heat between you intensified, fueled by the longing that had built throughout the night.

As your kisses deepened, his hand ventured downward, slipping between your legs and tracing the fabric of your shorts. He tugged at the waistband, trying to undo the button of your jeans. His movements were erratic and unsteady, but after a moment of fumbling, he successfully unbuttoned them. With growing urgency, he tore them off somewhat aggressively, consumed by desire as he was growing more desperate. In his haste, your underwear quickly followed. His hands roamed over your exposed skin, the urgency in his touch matching the intensity of your kisses. He pulled you closer, his desire evident.

He quickly pulled away to unbutton his own jeans. You sat up and reached for the bulge straining against the fabric, teasing him with a playful look as you bit your lip. He grunted, finally managing to open his jeans, pushing them down along with his underwear in one swift motion. His erection sprang free, lightly brushing against your face. 

You glanced up at him, your eyes filled with mischief, as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat and hardness. Slowly, you leaned in, planting a soft kiss on the tip before running your tongue along his length. He let out a low groan ”Y/N”, his hand tangling in your hair as he guided you closer, his desire growing more intense with each passing second.

You took him deeper into your mouth, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the taste and the sounds of his increasing pleasure. His grip in your hair tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you worked your magic. With each motion, you felt his body tensing, his control slipping away.

He pulled you up suddenly, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss, his hands exploring your body with urgency. In one fluid motion, he guided you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes met yours, filled with lust, as he slowly entered you, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through both of you.

He began to move, his rhythm steady and deep, each thrust intensifying the connection between you. Your bodies moved in perfect sync, every touch and kiss heightening the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your breaths mingling as you whispered each other's names.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion, each moment more intoxicating than the last. His pace quickened, the tension building within both of you. Your fingers dug into his back, urging him on, as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

He pulled out and grunted, "Turn around, schatje" motioning for you to get on all fours. You obeyed, positioning yourself as he instructed. As soon as you were steady, his hand came down sharply on your skin, making you let out a whimpering scream.

Entering you again from this new vantage point, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, "Sound so pretty for me, ja?" as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck.

His words sent shivers down your spine as he began to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate. You responded to his rhythm, your sounds of pleasure growing louder with each powerful motion. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you in sync with his movements.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured words of encouragement and praise, each one intensifying your arousal. The sensation of his body against yours, combined with the raw intensity of his whispers, drove you to the edge.

With a final, forceful thrust, you both reached a shattering climax, your cries of ecstasy filling the room. He stayed close, his body pressed against yours as you both caught your breath.

Gently, he pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as you both basked in the lingering warmth. His fingers traced light patterns on your skin, sending tiny shivers through you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a soothing balm to your senses.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes reflecting how much he adorned you. He kissed you tenderly, the softness of his lips a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. Wrapped in his embrace, you felt a profound sense of contentment, knowing that this connection was more than just physical; it was the beginning of something deeply intimate.

You lay there together, bodies entwined, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The room was filled with a comforting silence, broken only by your gentle breaths and the occasional whisper of affection. As you drifted into a peaceful slumber, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish.

Taglist: @viozxe , @imsiriuslyreal

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

All Things Pink

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || Bucky being the sweetest boyfriend by bringing you flowers on your birthday.

Word Count || 1344

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings other than some tooth-rotting and disgusting fluff <3

Authors Note || I got this cute idea from an ask @daemonslittlebitch which inspired this fic!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

TFATWS!Bucky Masterlist

Good morning and happy birthday, gorgeous. I hope you slept well and dreamt the sweetest dreams. Are we still up for the date later?

That was the text message that awaited you from your boyfriend of two months when you woke up—instantly kick starting your day for the better. You smiled the brightest and rolled over in bed and laid on your stomach while your legs twirled in the air as you read his message a second time.

Your crush and love for Bucky was so fresh, so new, yet so intense. Each and every interaction, no matter via mobile or in person, had you a giddy, shy and giggling mess. Your stomach soared with butterflies, and your mind clouded with the sweetest thoughts whenever it came to him.

You hadn't even realized that you’d been stuck daydreaming for some time until you got another text from him.

Is it ok if I pick you up at 2?

Good morning, Bucky! And thank you! Yes, that sounds perfect. I'll be all ready when you arrive.

Great! I'll see you then, doll.

See you then!

It was twelve—the morning already late as you'd spent most of the early hours snoozing in and cuddling with your cat Alpine.

You got up, made yourself some breakfast, and ate, before getting ready for the day—shower, clothes, and makeup.

After the refreshing shower, you went to pick your outfit. You weren't sure where he was taking you. Only knowing that it would be casual, so that's what you dressed for. The weather outside was fairly nice. The trees lightly shifting in the wind indicated that it was only a light breeze out, and there was no chance that the few clouds in the sky would produce any rain. So you opted for a pink and pretty sweater, your favorite color, with some light blue jeans, which you would pair with white sneakers. The hair and makeup you did as you would normally.

Time slipped from you, not even realizing that it was two already until there was a knock on your apartment door. Instantly the butterflies started growing and soaring in knowing who was behind it.

You took a deep breath in and out to calm your beating heart before opening the door.

You were greeted with a massive bouquet of flowers—all pink, but with different variants and shades. The face you were longing to see hidden behind all its grandness.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

His face popped up from the side—handsome as ever, making your heart skip a beat. His smile, boyish and beautiful, the kind that made the corner of his eyes crinkle, knocked your breath out.

You were completely lost in him, not even realizing that you'd been standing and staring for a whole minute with your jaw slightly ajar.

“Can I come in?” He chuckled, trying to make contact with you.

You slapped yourself mentally to get out of your trance before moving aside for him, “y-yes, sorry, come in,” and closed the door.

He was so close to you now, making your knees tremble. His presence powerful, but not in a harsh way. It was gentle and caring, making you feel so ecstatic and protected. His aroma overwhelmed all your senses as you inhaled him. The fragrance that was quintessential Bucky imprinted itself in your brain.

You almost lost it when he delicately cupped your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin before he leaned in, softly kissing the other. His lips lingered there for a moment, making you feel their fullness and warmth. The sensation spread throughout your body—down your spine and through all of your nerves, making the surface of your skin tingle.

When he pulled away, you had managed to snap out from your state—still on cloud nine but present in the now. You tilted your head slightly and gave him an appreciative and sweet smile. His piercing blue eyes gazed into yours, and you could get lost in them for eternity due to how captivating they were.

You don't know how long you and he stood like this—studying and appreciating each other, but Bucky was the first one to break the pleasant silence.

“You look so pretty,” he murmured as he moved his fingers to hold your jaw lightly.

You felt a rush of heat flush to your face, your ears becoming extremely hot at his compliment. “Thank you, Bucky,” you replied shyly.

He looked down at himself before his eyes did a quick swipe of you a second time, bottom to top. “Hey, we're matching today,” he smiled.

You hadn't even realized what he was wearing. To focused on his beautiful face to notice his soft pink hoodie—the color identical to yours.

“Oh, I-I guess we are.” You looked down at yourself and then back to him. “Um, I hope that doesn't bother you?”

“Of course, it doesn't, gorgeous,” he chuckled as he pinched your chin,” the color looks so lovely on you.”

You glanced down at your feet for the first time, avoiding his passionate gaze, feeling shy and giddy at his many endearing compliments.

Bucky chuckled one last time at the intense effect he had on you, finding you completely adorable and precious at the way you reacted to his presence and touches.

“These flowers are for you.”

You had almost forgotten about the huge bouquet he held in his other hand as you'd been so focused on Bucky only.

“Thank you.” You took them from him and inhaled the sweet aroma of the flowers. They smelled lovely, but they could never compare to how he smelled. The colors on them ranged from the softest to the harshest of pink. They were stunning and would fit perfectly in your apartment.

“I'll put them in a vase. You can come on in.”

He nodded and followed you into the kitchen. As you rummaged through your cupboards for a vase, Bucky leaned against the bar counter, arms crossed. You could feel his stare bore into your back, making you nervous and almost drop the vase, resulting in a low chuckle from him.

Luckily, Alpine walked into the room to see who had been so rude to enter her queendom, meowing loudly, and Bucky's attention shifted from you to her.

This wasn't the first time Bucky had met Alpine, but since he was so new in your life, Alpine hadn't quite adjusted to the stranger yet, still very shy and careful around him.

“Hello there,” Bucky cooed as he situated himself on his haunches, making himself small and less intimidating to the timid cat, extending his hand out for her to inspect.

Alpine stopped when she noticed him and eyed him carefully. She looked up at you, meowing again, looking for reassurance and encouragement from you that it was safe.

“It's ok, baby. You know, Bucky. Bucky's kind,” you cooed.

She looked back at him and meowed once more before slowly walking over. She carefully sniffed his hand, taking her time before getting closer to him, and then, finally, rubbed herself against his knees—affirming that he was now part of the family.

“Awe, pretty girl,” he cheered as he pet her soft white fur. Alpine sat between his legs so she could thoroughly enjoy the gentle caresses and pats, purring loudly. “Yeah, we're friends now.” Bucky seemed so happy to finally be accepted, as were you—two of the most important souls in your life getting along.

“I wish I could stay and pet you all day long, Alpine, but I'm taking your mommy out on a date. Is that ok?”

She meowed—a sound of acceptance.

He smiled bright as he gave her one last ruffled pet. “I'll see you soon, pretty girl.”

Bucky stood up and came to your side, extending his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

You looked down at his hand and slid yours into it, interlocking your fingers. Both of you smiled at the contact and the electric current surging between one another. You and he fit to perfection—a perfect pair of lock and key.

“Yes, I'm ready.”

PART 2

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[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 3

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 1,012

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

You rolled your eyes, this time wanting to slam the door shut. But Bucky stopped the door again.

"Do you want to smash the door? If it's broken, you'll have to pay for the repair fee," Bucky teased, trying to lighten the mood.

You glared at the door. "How much is it to fix the door?"

"Huh?" Bucky was taken aback, realizing you took his joke seriously.

"$50 or $100?" You didn't notice that Bucky was actually joking. If you could slam the door in his face, you'd pay the repair fee no matter the cost.

This brought back memories of when you and Ransom had a business and stayed at hotels. If Ransom got a non-smoking room and needed to smoke, he'd pay $250 for the cleaning fee rather than going outside. You learned from Ransom that money could solve almost all problems.

Bucky, surprised by your reaction, watched as you took money out of your bag.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that," Bucky stammered, running his hand through his hair.

"I get it, you don't want to be near me. How about this? I'll prepare a car for you. You can use it while you're here," he offered.

Accepting a helping hand from him irked you, but the thought of walking in the unpredictable weather made you hesitate.

"If I use the car, are you going to tell your followers and make me feel like the poorest person in the world again?" you challenged, recalling the high school days you'd rather forget.

Bucky widened his eyes. "God, no. I won't do that. I will never do that to you ever again."

You raised your eyebrows skeptically.

"Just go home and talk to Tom again," Bucky suggested.

"Give me the key," you demanded.

"You're going?" Bucky asked.

You sighed loudly. "I need to take a shower first. Can you leave me alone for some privacy?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bucky said softly before leaving.

You shook your head but then realized something—he had said, "I'm sorry." It was the first time you had heard it from him.

If you had heard those words, your life might have changed slightly. But it's too late now.

You went to the bathroom and took a hot bath, letting the hot water relax your tense shoulders.

After finishing, you left the bathroom and saw a set of outfits lying on your bed, along with a letter: "Brand new. Cleaned. Also, the car key is at the front desk."

You clicked your tongue. Front desk? That meant you would probably meet Natasha again.

But why was he giving you brand new outfits? Was this some kind of gift?

Shivering, you decided to leave the new outfits and use the clothes you brought instead.

Heading to the front desk to get the key, you also noticed a casino in the hotel. That was wild. You didn't know a casino was allowed. It seems like the business is doing well, too.

When the elevator doors opened, you stepped out, preparing to encounter Natasha at the front desk. But to make it worse, Bucky was there too. You thought he had already left.

Bucky and Natasha were engrossed in conversation, still the same couple as ever, just like back in high school.

You cleared your throat, causing their conversation to halt.

"Nice to see you again," Natasha greeted.

You gave a small nod in response.

Bucky's gaze traveled from your head to your toe, as if expecting you to be wearing the outfit he had left for you.

"Not my size," you told him bluntly, as if reading his mind.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Bucky's face.

"Is the car ready?" you asked, cutting straight to the point.

Bucky pulled the key from his pocket and handed it to you. "Here you go."

Taking the key, you wasted no time leaving, not sparing a glance back at Bucky and Natasha.

🏡

You arrived back at your home, finding Tom waiting for you on the porch.

"Not working?" you asked.

Tom flinched. "I'm not suited for the job anymore."

"Yeah, just retired and using the money I sent you," you replied sharply.

"It's too much. Besides, I can't spend it all," Tom responded.

"Why not? You could travel the world," you suggested.

Tom shuffled his feet, avoiding your gaze. The worry lines around his eyes seemed more profound than usual, and a tremor ran through his hand as he reached up to rub the back of his neck. "There's something I have to tell you," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach, a cold sensation spreading through your body. "What's wrong?" you asked, your voice tight with concern.

He took a shaky breath, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes, glistening at the corners. He shut them for a moment, composing himself, then looked back at you, his expression filled with a raw vulnerability that left you speechless.

"I've been diagnosed with cancer," he confessed, the words heavy and thick on his tongue. They hung in the air between you, a stark declaration that shattered the normalcy of the moment.

The word itself, "cancer," seemed to take a beat to register in your brain. For a horrifying moment, you felt like you were trapped in a bad dream, the world around you a distorted echo.

"Are you sure?" you finally managed, barely above a hoarse whisper.

Tom nodded slowly. "I went to different doctors, and all of them gave the same results."

You asked, "When did you find out?"

"Last year," Tom replied. He discovered it during a routine hospital visit. He noticed his fingers lacked the strength to hold tools while working as a mortician.

The moment the doctor confirmed his diagnosis, Tom didn't accept it immediately. But soon, fear set in. He dreaded the thought of leaving you alone in this world.

Meanwhile, Bucky had been assisting Tom at the morgue and funeral home. Tom confided in Bucky, stating he'd leave the business to him after his passing.

"Fuck," you muttered, feeling unprepared for this news. Losing your father would leave you utterly alone.

You reached for his hand, noticing how much skinnier he'd become. His perpetually pale complexion earned him the nickname "angel of death" among the kids.

"You should move in with me. There are many good hospitals and doctors in the city," you suggested.

But Tom shook his head. "There's a new hospital here focused on cancer patients. The doctors and nurses are helpful."

Besides, he wanted to rest his final days in this town, just like his wife.

"Is the cancer deadly?" you inquired.

Tom sighed heavily. "I really don't know."

Feeling like life was testing you, you reflected on your recent hardships. First, losing your job, then returning to a hometown that held painful memories, and now facing your father's cancer diagnosis.

It felt like someone had dug a grave for you, waiting to push you into it.

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[imagines--galore]

HELLO HELLO I SAW YOUR LITTLE JIM HAWKINS POST AND I GOTTA ADMIT! I LOVE THE BOY TOO!

was wondering if could request a little jim x reader who meet at the academy and have a little rivalry before becoming lovers? thanks! remember to take care, drink lots of water and stay safe!

Summary: Jim Hawkins & Y/n Y/l/n. Two of the most promising candidates to arrive at the Interstellar Academy in years. From academics to knowing their way around a ship, the both of them were on equal footing. Too bad they see the other as a rival. Then again, perhaps it was a good thing. For if they were to team up, they could conquer the entire galaxy if they wanted to. But when did that rivalry changed into something more? Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None. A/N: I mean who doesn't love the boy :3 Ok so the song I decided to pick is Téir Abhaile 'Riú by Celtic Woman. And I borrowed some elements from Kingdom Dance from Tangled because I love that scene. :3 And this got a little longer then I intended it to be.......I added too much detail to everything. Woops? Had a lot of fun with your request though!

You pursed your lips as you observed your reflection in the full length mirror. To say Emmy had been insistent about you donning a pretty outfit for the occasion would be an understatement. Your roommate had practically threatened you with it, saying she would no longer speak to you if you did not dress up. Honestly the female Canid didn't need to threaten you, no one could say no to her. Not even you.

So when she had dug through your closet and taken out the articles of clothing she deemed worthy for the event, you had put them on with no complain. A blouse and a corset with a skirt paired with shoes. The latter you had picked out yourself, having no desire to wear anything impractical should you need to kick someone in the nuts.

"You look gorgeous, Y/n." Parla your third roommate trained one of her several eyes in your direction, while simultaneously applying some black goo to the eyelashes of her remaining eye. "By human standards." Quel barely glanced up from where she was oiling her arms. You were thankful she was, your android roommate had a tendency to squeak when her joints would run out of oil. Emmy grinned proudly as she put the final touches to your hair and stepped away to appraise her work.

"Maybe you'll catch a sailor's eye while in town y/n." She giggled, prompting you to roll your eyes at her. "I doubt I'll have the time." You crossed your arms over your chest. "Since I will be making sure you don't run off half-drunk, Parla doesn't get in trouble because of her wandering eye and avoid Quel being stripped for parts by some con-person."

You had grown to be protective of your roommates over the years you had lived together. Emmy cooed as she reached out to embrace you sweetly. "You don't have to worry about us, honey! We've all excelled at our combat classes. Not to mention we'll have dates who can protect us." Both you and Quel glared at Emmy who only gave a nervous laugh. "Did you have to rope us all into dates?" The android asked, her mechanical voice somehow sounding annoyed. "Its best to go in a large group." Parla came to Emmy's rescue. "My grandmother says there might be some pirates or thieves in the crowd. And given the number of people that have come for the Ball, its best to find strength in numbers."

Emmy nodded enthusiastically. "Perhaps it is best to accept our fate and simply go along with the situation." Quel spoke as she stood and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. You sighed, closing your eyes briefly before shrugging and allowing a smile to play on your lips. You weren't about to be a spoilsport and ruin everyone's fun. After the month all of you had had, with the exams and revisions and tests and selecting the courses you would be majoring in, you all deserved a break.

A bright smile pulled at your lips and Emmy very early squealed at the sight. "Here's to having a night none of us will ever forget!" You stated with conviction, opening the door and leading your friends out of your shared room.

Little did you know how true those words would be for you.

                                          ————————–

The town of Aonadh enjoyed a rather prestigious position. On one hand it was the closest to the reputable Interstellar Academy. An Institute that had been thriving for years and housed the future generation of sailors for the Queen's Armada. Many living in town had relatives who went there, or had some other form of relation with the Academy.

On the other hand, the town served as a harbor for many ships. From merchant vessels carrying riches and trading goods, to the crafts bringing new hopefuls to begin the next phase of their journey. The port of Aonadh was always bustling, always busy. There was never a quiet moment. Every other hour would bring a new ship in. Either to relieve itself of its cargo, have repairs done, or pick up people who wished to travel.

Really town was a small word for Aonadh, but the people refused to call it a city. Their ancestors started as humble farmers before the location of the Academy changed their status to something more. They were proud of what they had accomplished over the years as well as their status so a town it remained. One could find almost every life form residing in town, Arcturians, Aquanogs, Canids, Centaurous, Cragorians, Densadrons, Felinids, Geeories, Humans, Macriki, Mantavors, Minotarous, Optocs, Roboticas, Sirenius, Tuskrus, Zirrelians and a hundred more. No one could remember the first specie that lived in Aonadh and no one cared. Everyone was treated on an equal footing and the town had a huge council that had a member from every specie living in Aonadh.

There were several attractions that beckoned the young Cadets at the Academy to spend their time off in town. From pubs that never ran out of ale, to shopping markets that overflowed with the finest wares. Not to mention the massive library that housed more then a million scrolls, books, hoverstories and maps. To say nothing of the lavish streets and squares where something was always happening.

Of course the ports were the most exciting place to be. One could meet new people, learn about shipping from seasoned sailors, or even catch a tour of one if a Cadet was so lucky.

At present the excitement going about had something to do with several large ships that had docked not a day ago. Ships carrying Cadets who had passed out over the years and were coming back for their annual party of sorts. The Annual Ball it was called. Held every ten years. A huge affair. One of the biggest ones to ever occur in the entire galaxy. Guests of honor and other people of importance were sent invitations, while the rest of them simply showed up. Unless they were on duty or had anything of importance to attend to everyone came.

                                          ————————–

It was certainly the busiest Jim Hawkins had seen it. In the years he had attended the Academy there had been several festivals he had attended with his friends, but not one of them came close to the excitement of today.

However that excitement had died down to be replaced by a burning annoyance at the sight of the only other human in his year. The very human who was now sitting at the same table as him, both of you sipping from your drinks.

It wasn't that you had anything against being set up for a blind date, it was the boy you had been set up with.

What existed between you and Jim was something of an anomaly. The both of you were the best in your batch, and quite frankly, some Professors seemed to be of the notion that you were both the best Cadets they had seen in years.

If only the two of you got along.

A bitter rivalry had formed between the both of you. Neither of you remembered who had taken the first shot, but all you knew was that you had to one up the other. And that was how it had been your entire career at the Academy.

Spiteful comments thrown at one another. Hateful glances whenever the other would be praised. Childish pranks just to annoy the other. Goading and baiting that resulted in either one or both of you getting into trouble.

The list was endless.

Honestly, if it wasn't so entertaining the Academy would've had taken action years ago. You often wandered if perhaps you and Jim had a betting pool going around in the Academy. Parla had dropped hints here and there, but you weren't quite sure.

Well, whatever existed between you and Jim, it was destroying your evening. As soon as it became clear who your date was, Parla and Quel had made themselves scarce, having the intelligence to stay clear of the obvious Supernova that was about to erupt given yours and Jim's expressions. Emmy had quickly taken you aside, begging you to go along with it, and explaining how Lyon, her crush for a good year and a half, had said he didn't want to ditch his friend while he had fun.

So Emmy had offered a solution.

Correction.

Emmy had offered you as a lamb up for slaughter.

And being the soft-hearted idiot that you were, you had relented, agreeing to going along with Emmy's plan. Only because you knew she was half in love with Lyon, and maybe this night he would work up the courage to tell her of his feelings as well.

And as you sat there, watching your best friend sway in the arms of the half-felinid and half-human male, you couldn't help but give a small smile at the happiness that seemed to radiate from the both of them.

"There must be a Supernova freezing somewhere." Stars, even his voice was annoying.

You turned your head back to look at him, that annoyed frown returning. "And what makes you say that."

He smirked, hands behind his head as he rested against the back of the booth. "You were actually smiling. I thought she-demons never smiled. Something about bursting into flames and the world coming to an end, that sort of thing."

"I smile plenty Hawkins." You responded, pursing your lips. "I just don't happen to smile at maggots such as yourself." The insult, if it were called that, seemed to bristle him enough to warrant an eye roll, though he didn't respond.

Seemingly taking his silence as a win, you returned your attention to the dancing couples. The music was lively and there would certainly be more people coming in soon. Sighing, you wished you could join in the dancing. Of course there was no chance of that happening.

You had no desire to ask a stranger, for fear they would try something untoward. And there was no way in the entire galaxy you were about to ask Jim Hawkins to dance with you.

Glancing at your empty glass of drink, you stood and stretched, completely missing Jim watching you out of the corner of his eye. "If I am to tolerate your company for the rest of this evening I'm gonna get another drink." He rolled his eyes, prompting you to give him a glare that had one too many cadets backing off in fear.

But not Jim. Jim was used to your glares and stares and returned them at an equal footing.

Walking toward the bar, you waved at the many tentacled bartender who was quick to give you your drink. The glass was a little too full, prompting you to walk carefully back to your table.

Perhaps it should've been better that you kept your attention on the people around you rather then the drink you were trying not to spill.

A boisterous group of sailors jostled you, propelling you forward and causing your drink to spill.

Nearly emptying the entire contents of it down the front of one of the sailors who had bumped into you.

"What the hell!? Watch it!" He cried out, swiping at the front of his uniform in an effort to wipe away the liquid. Of course, that didn't help.

Angry at loosing your drink, you glared at the male. "You were the one too drunk to walk properly, how am I to blame for your incompetence?" Maybe it wasn't the wisest of decisions to be picking a fight with someone who looked like he had some Densadron blood in him, but you didn't care.

You were already having a horrible evening, so why not make it worse.

Your words only served to make the male, and his group of friends angry. Pursing your lips, your hand slipped to the hidden slit of your skirt where you kept a taser knife for safety reasons. Your fingers itched, ready to pull it out when suddenly the stare down between you and the male was broken by a very familiar voice.

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

Astonished, you pivoted on your feet, just in time to see Hawkins drape an arm around your waist and pull you to his side. That wasn't what shocked you.

What shocked you the most was the smile he wore. One that was directed at you.

"Making friends I see." He continued while your brain tried it's best to compute the situation that was going on. "I'm sorry about that, my girlfriend gets a little light-footed when shes had one too many."

Girlfriend?!?!?

The group of sailors seemed to be calming down somewhat. Jim had that effect on people whenever he stepped in to stop a would-be squabble.

Ironic considering the numerous fights he had started in his younger days.

"How about she pay for the damage to my uniform, and I let her go." The male grunted, scowling down at the both of them. Suddenly his eyes zeroed in on you the way they hadn't before. A lecherous smile formed on his lips, one that had you scowling in disgust. "She can either pay money or show me a good time. I don't mind either." The rest of his group laughed boisterously, elbowing one another, wearing the same smile as their friend was.

His words seemed to snap you out of wherever your mind was. Pushing aside Jim's previous words, and trying hard not to comprehend where his arm still rested around her waist you opened your mouth to tell the disgusting male where he could shove something where the sun don't shine.

A firm but light pressure around your waist had you stopping. You watched, astonished, as Jim moved to stand in front of you, his stance protective, and an anger in his eyes that had you blinking in surprise.

"Or maybe I should have you reported for showing such disrespect to a future Captain of the Royal Armada."

It was then that the group realized who they were speaking to. Their gazes flitted to the pin you had proudly stuck to the right side of your chest. A coat of arms that assigned your rank, despite having not even graduated yet. Jim had the same pin, though his was hidden by the jacket he wore. Though he made no effort to hide it as he pushed aside the front of his garment to reveal it to the buffoons.

Being Captain meant you had authority and power that no lowly sailor had. It didn't matter what age you were, so long as you were a rank above, you held power.

And at that moment you wanted nothing more then to throw the idiot in jail for daring to make such a proposition to you.

The group began to retreat, taking their friend with them. The danger past, Jim turned his attention to you.

"You okay?" He asked, his eyes roving over your frame, as if looking for some sign of injury.

You nodded. "I'm fine." Despite there having been no physical altercation, you were still a little shaken. "You didn't need to step in. I had it handled." You finally said, still clutching your half full glass. Jim rolled his eyes.

"Not from where I was standing."

You scowled. "I was ready to fight him if I needed to."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "And get expelled so close to graduating? You're reckless Y/n, but I know you're not that reckless."

"And why should you care? Wouldn't you prefer to graduate top of the class all by yourself? Not share your spotlight with anyone."

He nodded. "I would." He paused before a teasing smile pulled at his lips. "But then who would be my rival when I make Captain?"

You waved your hand. "I'm sure you would find someone else to piss off."

"I doubt they would be as beautiful as you."

You gaped at him, had barely voiced your astonishment when his eyes widened in realization of what he had just said.

A bright blush overcame his cheeks, one that had him gulping nervously, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

"Y-you think I'm.............beautiful?" You could barely believe the words coming out of your mouth. An awkward shrug was his only response.

Normally you would've teased him mercilessly about revealing something so intimate. But right then? Having just been saved by him, and watching him stand there, unable to meet your gaze, you couldn't help but smile.

"Don't tell me its because of my beauty that you've been a pain in my ass all these years." Your tone was light, teasing, compelling him to respond in his usual sarcastic way.

"That and you're annoying." He stated, a smile pulling at his lips as his blush began to recede. You hummed. "I didn't take you as the romantic type Hawkins."

He leaned closer. "Theres a lot of things you don't know about me y/l/n. Though one thing I can tell about you, is that you've been wanting to dance the entire night but have been too stubborn to ask me." Now, it was your turn to blush as you glared at him. Had you been that obvious? But Jim wasn't deterred.

"Shall we?" He held out a hand, indicating that you take it if you wanted to fulfill your wish to dance.

You pursed your lips, your previous annoyance for him rising to the forefront. You would never call what you felt for Jim hatred, but you wouldn't call it affection either.

But right then, you mused as you took his hand and he led you the dance floor, maybe you could label your feelings for Jim as undetermined.

For the time being.

The dance floor had lost a few dancers as the musicians in the corner prepared to play yet another song. You looked around, feeling a little nervous. It had been awhile since you had danced, and while you had no doubt in your dancing skills, you didn't trust your partner fully.

"You're not going to drop me during a dip or something like that are you?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Jim laughed before shaking his head. "No, I promise I won't."

You frowned, leaning up to press the back of your hand against his forehead. "You're not running a fever are you?" You inquired, feeling your own forehead to compare the temperatures. He flushed at the sensation of her touch against his skin.

"No, why would you ask that?" His questions prompted you to shrug. "Well you're being nice to me, and neither of us have thrown an insult at the other in the last five minutes.

Jim nodded, looking impressed. "Must be a new record for us." He commented to which you laughed softly. "And I'm nice to you because I am a nice guy Y/n." He stated, to which you let out a very unlady-like sound. "Oh please, you've been anything but nice to me since we first met Jim."

Alright so it was strange to call him by his first name, but he had used your first name. And when he had? You had felt a sliver of warmth flicker in your heart. Maybe he would feel the same sensation you did?

Well you were right. At least about the warmth part. And though Jim felt that warmth in his heart, same as you, he also felt it steal across his cheeks.

God! He had never blushed so much in such a short span of time his entire life.

"Well you didn't make it easy now did you? You just had to be a smartass." You smirked. "Better a smartass then an idiot." Jim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his toned chest. "I don't know, we've both done some pretty idiotic stuff over the years."

The musicians were still tuning and drinking. Apparently it was their break, and while there were several other couples standing around waiting for the dance to begin, your and Jim seemed to be encapsulated in your own little world.

"True, but they've been fun years. Memorable." You stated with a nostalgic smile, thinking back on all the times you had gotten into trouble playing pranks on your rival. "Ones neither of us will be forgetting for a long time." He agreed, matching your smile with his.

Your eyes met his, and you suddenly realized just how much Jim had changed over the years. He had been a little reckless and rebellious in the start, but those traits had toned down over the years. They would never be gone completely, but he had matured, no doubt about that. And not just personality wise, you mused, eyes roving his face, as if you were seeing him for the first time.

He had grown a lot taller the past few years. Taller then you at least, since he was a good head taller then you. And he was handsome, there was no denying that, and kind, given how he had just helped you out of what could've been an ugly situation. Not to mention he was extremely loyal, a trait you had always admired in him despite your rivalry.

Little did you know Jim was thinking along the same criteria. Remembering the day he had met you, and how annoying he had thought you were. With your perfect hair, perfect uniform and perfect scores. Then again his scores had always been perfect too, but he made up for it by being messy and a little rebellious.

You? You were always the picture of perfection. Even so close to graduation, every aspect of your life seemed perfect. From your scores, to your attendance record. Your gorgeous face, and expressive eyes to your hair that always looked so soft that he had to fight the urge to touch it at times.

Though today, he didn't hold back. Raising his hand, he brushed a loose tendril behind your ear, and if his hand lingered a little longer then necessary, and if it brushed against your ear, causing a gentle shudder to race through your body.

Your eyes never wavered, and it looked like he was about to say something.

Just then the music started.

Jim cursed, prompting you to raise an eyebrow at him. "Its a fast jig. I'm not really good with those." You smiled and shook your head. "Thats alright, I can teach you. Its easy."

So saying you quickly placed his hands in the appropriate places, one at your waist, the other holding your own aloft, fingers intertwining togther. As soon as you started moving, Jim cast his eyes downwards, trying his best not to step on your feet.

"Hey!" Your voice compelled him to look up, nearly catching your foot but you gave him a reassuring smile. "Eyes on me. You gotta dance right. Don't worry about my toes, they're made of steel."

He gave a dry laugh, but did as you asked him to. Neither of you looked away from the other, allowing the music from the minstrels and the voices of the singers to overtake all your senses.

You would sometimes tease him for a misstep, he would comment about your being a talented dancer who hid their talent, but there was no malice in your voices. Only playfulness, and dare you think, affection.

The jig began to pick up speed, the footwork getting a little complicated, but the steps were ones that kept repeating over and over, and Jim had always been a fast learner, and he had seen many people dance to this particular song over the years.

So when the part came where he had to twirl you away from him before bringing you back, the move was so effortless and fluid that it looked like you had rehearsed it. Your hair and skirt flew about you as you twirled back into him, your back against his chest, his arms around your body, hands clasped, keeping you close.

You tilted your head, breathless from the dance, your gaze meeting his. Suddenly all that playfulness became charged, and your eyes glimmered with a passion you had never felt before. His lips were so close to your own. To him your lips looked so inviting.

But then the dance continued, and you straightened in his embrace. This time though, this time neither of you spoke. Neither of you looked away as you continued to dance. Hearts beating faster, steps picking up speed, your movements becoming wilder more impassioned.

You twirled away from him, holding one side of your skirt aloft. The song was coming to a close. The last verse had begun, where you would dance around your partner, slow and playful, never breaking eye contact.

And the final chorus? That was the main attraction. Knowing what was to come, Jim braced himself. You took a running start, jumping a little as you neared him to give yourself enough momentum to fly upwards, only to have Jim catch you around your waist, spinning in a fast circle.

A laugh fell from your lips, your arms held aloft at your sides, enjoying the sensation of flying through the air. As Jim began to lower you, your head tilted to look at him once more. Your arms dropped to wrap around his broad shoulders, while his rested around your waist.

The song had ended, the both of you were breathing heavily, twin smiles of jubilation stretching your mouths as the crowd around you roared. It seemed both your dancing had attracted quite the crowd.

And the cheering doubled tenfold when Jim suddenly closed whatever distance was left between the both of you and fused his lips with yours. A moment of disbelief, where your eyes widened almost comically, before closing shut, lips moving as you kissed him back.

It was blissfully sinful, the way he kissed you. You sighed almost dreamily against his lips, allowing your fingers to play with his hair. Jim was no better, he was doing his best not to let his hands explore too much. You were still in public after all.

"What in the furthest reaches of the galaxy is happening here?"

The shrieking voice tore your apart. Extremely reluctantly, you might add as you both turned to glare at Emmy and Lyon in annoyance. Emmy looked like she was about to faint, while Lyon looked utterly bemused.

"We weren't disturbing you while you locked lips, so why're you disturbing us?" You asked, your arms still around Jim's shoulders. Then again his hands still rested on your back, keeping you close.

"Weren't the two of you just at each other's throats?" Lyon asked, blinking stupidly at the two of them. Jim smirked. "Well I can get to her throat again if you prefer. Though not in the same way as before." His words had Emmy squeaking, Lyon gaping, and you rolling your eyes and smacking the back of his head. "Lets not ruin their innocence Jim." You grinned.

"Maybe we should take this someplace private?" You whispered, gesturing between the both of you. "Away from prying eyes." Jim needed no further prompting.

Grasping your hand, he began to lead you out of the tavern. "Don't wait up!" He called out to your two best friends.

"What did I just say about ruining their innocence Hawkins?"

"What? We can always say we just played a game of battleship?"

"Really? That's the euphemism you're using?"

"So long as it clarifies that I'm gonna beat you at whatever we'll be doing."

"What makes you think you're gonna win?"

"I always win."

"Oh, we'll see about that!"

Emmy and Lyon stood blinking in disbelief as you and Jim walked out of the tavern, continuing your arguing.

"Were they talking about having sex, or actually playing Battleship?" Emmy asked, sounding just as bewildered as she looked. Lyon made a face.

"Knowing them, they were actually talking about the latter before moving on to the former."

Emmy shook her head. "Oh, there was nothing in the betting pool for this." She giggled. "Everyone is gonna be so angry."

[buggyjuggie]

How would Mileena and Kitana treat their younger sister? Like, Sindel she didn't die shut up had another child with Jerrod (somehow) when he came back as Ermac.

I would like to see how they would adjust to having a new addition to the family and what their dynamics would be like, from childhood to adulthood :)

──★ ˙ ̟Mileena and Kitana with a younger sibling

Note (please read) : i know the OP said a younger sister but i still made it a gn sibling instead because as stated i dont write female readers or self inserts BUT i still tried to include activities that would be considered ,,girl like” if that makes sense so fair warning

「 ✦ Mileena ✦ 」

* She definitely wasn’t expecting a new addition to the family

* Mileena has the hardest time adjusting to the sudden change

* She wasn’t necessarily rude or mean to you but she was pretty distant

* It didn’t help that when she was afflicted with tarkat she held it a secret from you

* After the events of mk1 Mileena decided to come clean to you about everything and vowed her best to mend both of your relationship

* Mileena helps you pick out outfits when you don’t know what to wear for fancy evenings

* Most of the time you spend with Mileena is compromised of walking around the royal gardens, deep talks, girly activities like dress up and makeup

* You were actually the first person she told about her relationship with Tanya

* At least every 2 weeks Mileena will make you and Kitana match with her picked out outfit

* You dont get to spend a lot of time with Mileena due to her royal duties as an empress but from time to time you’ll visit her to help or she’ll invite you to take part in a royal ball taking place in another city

* You and Kitana comfort Mileena a lot because of how much being an empress, her mother and Edenias expectations weigh on her shoulders

「 ✦ Kitana ✦ 」

* Kitana was happy but also a bit apprehensive

* While Mileena is more conservative to showing you affection when you were young, Kitana was the opposite

* Most of your childhood was spent with Kitana either reading in the big palace library or her teaching you about different weapons, history and preparing you for the future

* She is your biggest supporter anything you wanna do, be or try she’ll be there to lend a hand if you need it

* You and Mileena are yappers while Kitana is a listener but the shit talking goes HARD once Kitana joins in on the conversation

* Both of the sisters are really protective over you

* If you have long hair then you guys do a hair braiding train (sometimes Sindel also joins in)

* On april fools (let’s pretend it happens in outworld) Kitana and Mileena pranked you by switching clothing, hairstyle, makeup ect. So Kitana looked like Mileena and Mileena looked like Kitana. Sindel spent the whole day trying not to laugh out loud

* Most of the time you end up being a third wheel when Raiden comes by to visit Kitana or even a fifth wheel if Mileena and Tanya decide go on a double date with the other mentioned pair

* Kitana’s favourite way to spend time with her siblings is cuddling up with them with soft blankets and a lit candle

*. ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[nehi-soda]

Bedroom Ceremonials - Joel Miller x Female Reader No Outbreak AU

Explicit; Minors DNI 18+ only.

“You walk a fine line between god and animal

You’re just a feral dog I worship in bedroom ceremonials”

- Dog Days, Ethel Cain.

Summary: His warm eyes were now stormy with frustration and concern, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, and his chaahart jacket soaked through from the rain. He doesn't waste a moment before unleashing his pent-up emotions, his breathing ragged as he towers in the doorway.

"Where the hell were you?"

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: P in V sex, ANGST, rough sex, smut, jealous!joel, established relationship, mention of violence (not directed at reader), alcohol, praise kink, dirty talk, size kink, makeup sex, oral sex (female receiving), au!joel, no outbreak!joel. Legal age gap (reader is mid 20's Joel is late 40's). No use of Y/N.

A/N: This is my first time writing any kind of smut or fan fiction. I just had to get some ideas out of my system. Joel is just so Ethel Cain coded.

As you step inside, the weight of the day's stress seems to cling to you like a heavy coat. It's been a rough day, and the unfamiliarity of your new job and home is only adding to your apprehension.

You can't help but feel a pang of longing for your dad's company, and you miss the comfort of having Joel just across the street.

You walk through the door, feeling like a soggy mess after getting caught in the rain on your way home.

Although you've been living there for four weeks now, the space still feels new. You do love it. You enjoy having your own space, being surrounded by your belongings, and having total control over the decor. Joel has personally assembled nearly all the furniture. No longer are you limited to just decorating your childhood bedroom.

However, you're still finding your feet in this new chapter of your life.

After dumping your bag in the hallway, you sigh deeply and release some of the tension that has built up in your neck. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - your mascara is smudged, and your hair is plastered to your face.

You quickly change out of your wet clothes and head to the bathroom to run the shower. As the steam begins to fill the room, you can feel yourself starting to relax.

You're already wrapped in your towel, pacing around your bedroom, when you grab your phone. It's been a busy day, and you haven't had a chance to check your messages. You see that Joel has sent you a few texts that you haven't had a chance to respond to.

Joel: hey baby, hope you have a good day at work x

Joel: hey, me again. Everything ok?

Joel: I figured you’re probably caught up in work stuff. Call me when you’re home.

As you toss your phone onto the bed, your face pulls into a guilty frown. You make a mental note to call Joel as soon as you're out of the shower, but right now, all you want to do is snuggle up in bed. Even though you crave to hear his southern drawl pour out of your phone's speaker like honey, exhaustion had taken over.

You head into the bathroom and swiftly lock the door behind you. You let out a sigh of relief as the hot water from the shower caresses your neck and chest. As you lather up your hair and body, you feel the day's stress slowly melting away.

Emerging from the shower, your hair still damp and clinging to your back, you tiptoe to your dresser and fish out a pair of checkered sleep shorts and an off-the-shoulder grey sweater, which you've cherished for years, proudly displaying "Texas" in bold across the front. You decide to complete the outfit with a pair of comfy cream knee socks for added warmth. They hug your thighs as you towel off your hair.

As you sink into the plush comfort of your bed and listen to the rain beating down on your windows, your thoughts drift to the soothing sound of Joel's voice.

You imagine the reassuring thump of his heart beneath your ear, the scratch of his unshaven jaw grazing the top of your head, and the comforting sensation of his work-worn fingers tracing hypnotic circles on your shoulders.

You yearn for more time with Joel, but it's hard to make it happen with busy schedules. He's been spoilt having you for nearly the entire summer break after graduating from college and now you both are feeling the strain.

Fortunately, he's devised a thoughtful solution - offering to pick you up after work to drop you home to squeeze in some extra quality time. Only this inevitably ends up with him just taking you to his house so he can tangle his fingers in your hair and fuck you senseless all night. Smart plan.

You wake up in his sheets, smelling like him. You always wake up first. You start to get ready for work, stealing glances at him sleeping in the sheets. Vulnerable and quiet. Such a contrast to his demeanour the night before when he gripped your hips so deliciously hard he left bruises, and pulled the fibres of pink tissue from your lips into shreds with his teeth.

You savour a warm cup of his coffee as marmalade sunlight seeps through the curtains, casting golden rays across his head like a halo. A glint of silver is growing up the side of his hairline. He thinks it makes him look distinguished, and you can’t help but agree. He loves to be so much older than you. He thinks it makes him wise.

You recall your fingers tapping against his bare chest like a spider's legs as you undo his flannel buttons one by one, revealing a glimpse of his toned torso from his physically demanding job. He listens intently as you ramble on about your day, content to let you have the floor. He's not much of a talker, but you don't mind. You love the way he watches you. His eyes glitter like a lake catching the glare of the moonlight, and he smirks when you get flustered. He knows the power he holds over you, and he lets it all go to his head.

He's a man of simple pleasures- clean socks and messy hair. He writes his name in the fog on the mirror from where he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pressed your face against the glass. The memory still makes you feel dizzy.

You believe he walks a fine line between god and animal, like a feral dog you worship in bedroom ceremonials.

Just as your saccharine memories of Joel have lulled you to sleep, you hear a loud hammering at the door. You jolt awake, panicked and disorientated, feeling like you’ve been ripped away from paradise.

Groggily, you fumble around the sheets for your phone, finding it still in the same spot where you tossed it earlier. Your eyes are still heavy with sleep; they peer at the illuminated screen displaying 11:11.

You see a barrage of missed calls from Joel. Your heart races as you wonder what could be so urgent. Then it hits you like a ton of bricks - you’d forgotten to call him….

You take in your surroundings- the deep blue hue of your room and the persistent pounding at your front door. You scramble out of bed and rush through the hallway.

You fumble with the lock and swing the door open to find Joel standing there, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity you've never seen before. His warm eyes were now stormy with frustration and concern, raindrops clinging to his dark hair, and his chaahart jacket soaked through from the rain. He doesn't waste a moment before unleashing his pent-up emotions, his breathing ragged as he towers in the doorway.

"Where the hell were you?" he demands, his voice sharp and accusatory with a southern edge. “I've been callin' and textin' all day, and you couldn't even bother to respond?” He barges past you. The sound of heavy footsteps resonates through the living room as Joel paces back and forth. The tension in the air is palpable, hanging thick like the storm clouds outside. You watch him, tugging on your sleeves and shuffling your socks against the wood floor.

“Joel, I'm sorry. It was just a hectic day, and I lost track of time. I didn't mean to ignore you." You answer, still caught off guard by his unexpected visit.

His expression tightens, and he steps closer, invading your personal space. “Lost track of time? Or were you with someone else, huh? Is that what's goin' on?"

Your heart feels heavy with hurt. "Joel, no! I would never—" He cuts you off, his frustration escalating.

"Don't give me that. You've been distant lately, and now this? I'm not stupid. If you're messin’ around, just be honest about it.” The faint scent of alcohol lingers on his breath. Whiskey you guess. Tears well up in your eyes as you try to make him understand.

"Joel, I'm not cheating on you. It's just been a tough transition with the new job and all. I've been overwhelmed." Your heart pounding now.

He carries on prowling around your living room.

“What, you think I’ve been fucking one of my co-workers on the side?” you continue, struggling to focus on his face as your vision blurs from the tears.

His face is shrouded in the darkness of your living room. He casts a long shadow on your walls. “Overwhelmed or not, you should have found a moment to let me know. Ignorin' me ain't fair.” His words come out with a coldness that makes a lump develop in your throat. You nod, a tear escaping and trailing down your cheek. "You're right. I should have communicated better. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. "Damn it, I care about you. I can't stand feelin’ like I don't even know where you are."

"Joel, please," you plead, trying to sound calm, but your voice comes out strained. You can’t help but feel pathetic. "Let's talk about this. I don't want things to be like this."

He halts his pacing, shooting you a glare that cuts through the air like lightning. "Talk? We've been needin' to talk for a while now. You've been avoidin' it”.

You take a deep breath; your lips tremble now. "I know. I've been caught up in everything; I don’t want to think about anything when I'm with you. That’s why I don’t bring it up.”

Joel's gaze narrows, his lips forming a tight line. The room feels charged with his lingering anger. He releases a sigh and his eyes soften slightly.

"I get it. Life can throw a whole mess of things at us; sometimes it feels like we're drownin'. But keepin' things bottled up and shuttin’ me out ain't the answer baby girl," he says, his Southern drawl carrying a touch of sweetness. You nod again the tears are now streaming down your face.

“I just… I don't want to burden you with my problems. I want our time together to be a safe space from all the chaos."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "Look, I ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy, but we can't keep playin' these games. I ain’t one of your lil’ college boyfriends, okay. If you got a problem, we face it together. That's what bein' in a grown-up relationship is about." His tone bites.

You nod again, a heavy weight settling in your chest. "You're right. I messed up. I want to fix it, Joel." The desperation in your voice echoes, and you feel like a rabbit pleading into the blinding headlights of an oncoming car.

He steps closer, his hand warm on your cheek as you lean into his touch. "I appreciate that, darlin', but we're in this together.” His words are unexpectedly soft.

"You're right. I shouldn't have shut you out,” you mumble.

His darkened eyes threaten to swallow you up as they gaze into yours. He makes you feel… nervous. His mere presence has this effect, leaving you feeling exposed as your emotions betray you, slipping from your eyes and staining your cheeks. In this vulnerable moment, you're reminded of how much he loves it when you’re so needy. The contrast between your sleep clothes and his work attire makes you feel small. You wonder why he hadn’t changed out of them before coming over?

Joel had been back from work hours before he arrived at your apartment. He paced anxiously in his living room with a glass of whiskey in his hand, work-worn jeans, and boots still on. He pours himself another whiskey and slams it down on the coffee table as his mind swims with thoughts of you with another man. Joel knew he was jumping to conclusions but how else could he explain your distance lately? He knew you were too good for him. He just knew how everyone turned to look at you when you entered the room. You were too damn pretty for your own good. His jaw clenched at the thought of another man’s hands roaming over your perfect body. His grip tightened on his whiskey glass before smashing it against the wall in frustration.

He storms outside into the rain to his truck.

On his way to your apartment his eyes are wild on the road, knuckles turning white on the wheel.

“God, you drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he hisses between his teeth. Joel's hands, calloused and strong, cradle your face delicately.

“We'll figure it out, darlin'. Together. No more keepin' things from each other. Deal?" His voice warm and husky.

You smile as he buries your face into his still-wet chest. "Deal." You sigh.

He withdraws from you and firmly holds your chin, trailing kisses over your wet cheeks. He finds your lips and presses his mouth against yours. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you let out a soft moan. He tastes like whiskey.

Joel switches his grip from your chin to the back of your thighs as he lifts you in his strong arms. You feel his muscles flexing, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries you towards your bedroom. When you’re in his arms you’re convinced that nothing in the world could harm you.

Your heart races against your chest as he navigates the familiar terrain of your room. He places you gently on the bed, and the mattress yields to the shape of your body. Joel hovers above you, his eyes locked onto yours, dancing a shade of midnight. The soft illumination of moonlight casts shadows on his face, emphasizing the strong contours of his nose and face.

You can hear the muted sounds of rain outside, the creaking of the bed beneath you, and the rhythmic cadence of your breathing.

Joel's hands, now free from supporting your weight, shed his soaked jacket. You peer up at him as you work on your own sweater and discard it over your head. Your skin erupts in goosebumps with the exposure of your breasts. Your chest rising and falling steadily, nipples puckered like rosebuds. His eyes skate over your body with glint of hunger. You snake your hands underneath his shirt. He gets the idea and pulls his shirt off too.

You pull him closer into you with your legs as you writhe around underneath him, heels digging into his lower back. He leans over you, trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck. Profanities escape his breath as he ruts his hips into yours. The undeniable hardness beneath his jeans becoming more prominent.

His kisses are now nips, blooming blue and violet markings along your throat and collar bone. You grip at the roots of his hair, and extend your neck further to give him some extra room.

“Joel, please,” you wimper as you throw your head back into the bed.

He hums against your throat, and it sends tingles down your body.

“I want you,” you continue to whine.

You feel him grin and pull back. He shuffles himself off the bed and kneels on the floor. You take a hard swallow as he works at the waistband of your shorts and pulls them off along with your panties in one swift motion. He runs his hands along your knee socks playfully.

“These can stay,” he declares with a deep voice that reverberates across the room.

His head is low and in line with your bare throbbing pussy. You chew your lip as he settles down between your thighs.

His hot breath ghosts across your needy clit as he holds your thighs in place.

He starts sucking on your clit and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Little breaths escape your mouth.

“Fuck Joel.” You let out, gripping at the bed sheets.

He continues working at your clit. His beard on his chin pressed firmly against your entrance. The scratch is almost sore but mixed with the waves of pleasure emitting from his lips, you don’t care.

“Jo- Joel,…I-,” you can no longer string a sentence together.

“Use your words baby,” he mumbles against you.

"I-I don't even… want you to e-eat my pussy. I just… want your c-cock in my pussy," you whine, eyes pressed shut. Head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Huh? Well, what do we say when we want somethin’?" Joel teases, glancing over you, observing your growing distress.

“P-please,” your lips quiver.

“Good girl.” He coos, shifting to stand over you like a phantom in the dark.

You hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt and unzips his jeans to step out of them. He returns to the space between your legs reaching into his boxers to free his cock. The head looks angry and is leaking precum. He leans over you, and lines up to your entrance and pauses.

“Are you going to be good and answer your phone when I call?” He spits. A sheen of sweat forms on his skin, making his hair cling to his forehead.

“Huh…yeah…. I’ll be g-good I promise.” You moan, desperate for the stretch of his cock.

He slides into you, and you can't help but gasp. You're always so surprised by his sheer size. You wince as you try to adjust to accommodate him inside you.

“Ah…fuck.” He grunts, slowly building momentum in his thrusts. “Always, so tight for me baby.”

Your mouth falls open as the familiar swirl of your release is already growing in the pit of your stomach. Your nails carve small crescents into his sides as you clutch onto him.

Fuck, you needed this. You needed the stress to be fucked out of you.

More mumbles and moans slip from your mouth as you’re rocked into the bed, becoming more and more cock drunk.

“Such a good girl takin’ all of me.” Joel grits. His southern twang stronger when he's all riled up. His thrusts hit deeper, hitting a spot inside you so delicious it threatens to push you over the edge.

You pull your legs up higher around him, your hands cradle your toes just to give you something to cling onto. He felt like he was splitting you open. Filling you to the hilt.

The filthy sound of the bed creaking and the slapping of skin filled the room.

His hand moves to clasp around your throat, and you blink up at him, pupils blown out wide.

"Tell me you're my lil’ slut.” he spits.

"I-I'm your lil' slu-slut,” you cry out, your words catching in your throat.

“um…yes, you are darlin’, and don’t you forget it,” Joel whispers darkly in your ear.

“Now cum for me.” He grunts.

“Cum-for-me-prin-cess.” Each syllable punctuated with a hard thrust. His hips meeting yours. You were definitely going to feel it in the morning.

You feel your climax edging to the forefront and his words are enough to send you spiralling.

“Joel-fuck!” You pant as your muscles pull taught in your stomach, and your legs shake.

“That’s my baby.” He encourages you past the point of no return and you sink into your orgasm. You grip his cock tight like a vice and it’s too much for him. His orgasm spirts out hot. His cock pulsating inside you as he collapses his head into your neck.

“Oh fuck, baby, so good!” He exclaims- emptying his balls into you. You feel his spent spilling inside.

He peels himself off you and pulls out with a wince. You feel so painfully empty without him buried deep inside you, occupying every one of your senses.

He pulls you into the duvet and holds you close. You feel his warmth seeping into your bones. You both lie there with ragged breaths and oxytocin coursing through your veins. With a gentle touch, he swipes some stray hairs from your face as you nestle into his chest panting.

You lie there for a while watching the raindrops race each other on the windowpane, each tiny droplet leaving a fleeting mark on the glass. You can hear the steady beat of Joel’s heart under you. You were wiped out, eyes beginning to flutter closed.

In the quiet of your little cocoon, the minutes stretch like molasses until Joel breaks the comfortable silence.

With his arms wrapped around you, he whispers, “We'll face whatever comes together, darlin’," and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. You feel his warmth and love, and you know that you're not alone.

divider credit to @saradika

[maximus-alex]

Tengen Estate X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight verbal abuse.

Entertainment district. Where Tengen once found himself again. Word came from Master Ubuyashiki that a demon was being kept safe here. It was a rumor and Master Ubuyashiki was sure to make that clear. But Tengen rather be safe than sorry.

Tengen walked around, his hair down as he wore a beautiful haori. White and red, gold trim that perfectly complimented his eyes.

He scoped the area. He didn't sense any demons so he didn't see much of a reason to stay. He was already on the hunt for a couple of days. So he simply would turn around, ears perking.

"Why haven't you met the quota y/n??" An angry woman slightly raised her voice at the female in front of her. "I know you're ugly but that means you have to work twice as hard!"

Tengen could feel his eyebrow twitch at the sound. His eyes turned to the noise, spotting a beautiful young lady. Around his age. Her face was heavily caked with makeup but he could easily see her eyes. A beautiful shade. It reminded him of gems. But not even gems could come close to how beautiful they were to him.

She bowed at the older woman and apologized.

He made his way over to the two and threw on a fake smile.

"My my... Isn't she a gem?" He calmly spoke. When in reality he wanted to throw hands at the woman for yelling at the clearly exhausted girl. "You don't mind if I..?"

The old lady was taken aback by how beautiful Tengen was himself. She nodded with such excitement as Tengen just threw her a bag of money.

"Shall we?" He asked, gently placing his hand on the young woman's lower back.

"He... With me?"  Y/n thought to herself. Her heart pounded as Tengen held her hand, they strolled over to the room and she slid the door closed. She didn't even notice that Tengen was speaking to her until he shook her shoulder. 

"HEY!" He shouted, crossing his arms. Y/n juped at how loud his voice suddenly got. "I asked you a question!" 

Y/n looked up at the tall figure. "I'm sorry, what was the question?" A slight stutter came from their voice. 

Tengen raised his eyebrow, glancing down at the woman below him. "I asked if you liked being here. I noticed that you look tired." His eyes then examined the woman's figure. "And skinny, which is not flashy, at all." Y/n's eyes widened a bit. After all of these years of being stuck in this hellhole did no one ever think to ask if she liked it here. 

Slowly, she shook her head. "No..I don't..." Her eyes glanced at the ground, she felt a pain shoot through her heart and pressure build up behind her eyes. Her chest ended up feeling like an anchor was attached to it. She held her hand over her heart.

Tengen's eyebrows furrowed with worry. His hand gently landed on her shoulder. "I can get you out of here. The money I gave to the old lady was basically enough to buy you." Y/n eyes widened. "He..basically bought me?" Y/n thought to herself. Tengen bent down to her level, looking into her eyes with such care in them. It looked so soft, enough to ake the most vicious person in the world nearly tear up. "Say the word and I'll do it."

After some thought, she didn't know this man. But there was no sign of harm anywhere in his aura. 

Within another second, she looked him in his maroon eyes and nodded. "Let's go."

A grin spread across Tengens lips. Without a second thought, he picked the woman up, tossing her over his shoulder and flung to his clothes off, revealing the demon slayer outfit underneath.

How did he..whatever, that didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting out of this district. 

"Come one, let's not waste another breath!" He shouted and jumped out the window. They were on the second story floor, it wasn't too tall in the air, but enough to cause a small scream fromm y/n as they landed on the floor. Eyes widened around them as they watched the scene of Tengen carrying the young girl out of the arc, hearing the yells from the lady who once owned y/n. 

Y/n slowly watched the city fade away from her vision as they ran into the nearby woods. She had no idea where they were going, but she was glad that they were gone.

After a minute, they ended up outside of an estate. It was beautiful. Lots of green scenery around it with trees that hung high over. 

Tengen put Y/n down, nearly slamming her down. Y/n stumbled, nearly falling before Tengen wrapped an arm around her waist. He chuckled and held her close, his body heat radiating off onto hers. It brought over a wave of comfort over Y/n, yet her heart still raced out of her chest. 

"Welcome to my wonderful estate. Quite flashy if i say so myself." He welcomed her inside.

The inside was as beautiful as the outside. Y/n eyes looked around and spotted three beeautiful women outside, they seemed like they were doing laundry, one hanging clothes as the other two washed.

Tengen smiled at the sight of his wives and guided Y/n to them in the backyard. "I'm home!" He smiled.

They all shot their heads towards him and smiled.

"Wait, who's that?" A woman with yellow bangs asked.

"A youg lady who was being mistreated. I figured she could stay with us until she feels safe enough to leave on her own." 

A woman with a black ponytail walked up to Y/n, gently grasping her hand with her own. "Welcome to the Tengen estate. What's your name?" Her eyes sparkled. They were soft and gentle, like a mothers.

"Y/n. Y/n L/n." 

"What a beautiful name." She smiled.

The same woman with yellow bangs walked up to Y/n with a wet rag. "We gotta get all this makeup off first!!" Without hesitation, she began to viciously wipe all of the caked up makeup. Once it was gone, all of the women gasped. A woman with blue eyes came running over.

"I had no idea you were so beautiful!!!" She shouted, holding Y/n's cheeks. "Are we keeping her?!"

Tengen chuckled. "Suma, calm down." He gently pat the top of her head. "Give her some time. She's been through a lot."

The women nodded and introduced themselves.

The weeks went by and Y/n slowly got closer to everyone. Eventually catching feelings for all of them. Tengen noticed this, he caught feelings for her. As well as the wives.

"Y/n," Tengen spoke, opening the door to the bedroom that you resided in. "Can the wives and I speak to you?" Y/n's heart slightly dropped, what if they were kicking her out? Were they tired of her? Y/n nodded and walked with him to where the wives sat. He gestured for her to sit down. For once, all of their faces were serious. A side y/n didn't get to see a lot. 

"Is everything okay?" Y/n glanced at everyone, making eyes with Tengen. 

He nodded. "WE WANT YOU TO-" Makio shouted before Tengen threw a hand over her mouth. Once he removed his hand, she apologized.

"Y/n, we were wondering if..." His voice trailed off, all of his wives and his hands joined in unison, clamping around each other. "If you'd like to join us in our marriage." His smile softened. Y/n heart raced, feeling her cheeks heat up. "We all feel really comfortable with you here and honestly," He chuckled. "It would be nice to have someone stay and take care of the home while we're out on missions. So if you'll have us. We'll be more than happy to have you."

A smile grew on all of their faces, soft looks all the way around.

Slowly, Y/n nodded. "I'd be more than happy to." Suma and Makio immediately stood up and practially jumped on Y/n, showering her in kisses all over her face. 

"Oh thank the gods!!" Cried Suma. "I was so worried you'd say no!!"

Y/n chuckled and blushed. "I dont see why not!" Her hands wrapped around their waists. 

Hinatsuru chuckled, helping Y/n up. Her hand gently held y/n's pink cheek, an adoring look in her purple eyes. "I'm so glad.."

"Yeah I don't see why not! We're all hot!" Makio shouted. A chuckle came from all of them. 

Tengen walked up to Y/n, replacing Hinatsuru's hand with is own. "Good...I'm glad." He leaned down and gently pressed his soft lips against Y/n's. His eyes closed as his heart raced. So did Y/n's, the only thing she was able to hear was her own heart beat as their lips danced together. He pulled away, only for y/n's head to be tilted towards Suma's, their lips connected for a couple of seconds. Next, Makio, the kiss grew more heated with every person, Makio slowly shoved her tongue in Y/n mouth. The second Makio's lips parted, Hinatsuru tilted y/n head towards her, their lips moved together, slowly, their tongues also danced around each other. This caused Y/n stomach to gain butterflies, the other two girls hand roaming around y/n body.

"Alright ladies, that's enough." Tengen chuckled. "How about we save this for the honeymoon?"

Hinatsuru slowly pulled away. "Sorry Lord Tengen..She's just so cute.. we couldn't help ourselves."

He smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know, trust me, it's taking a lot of willpower to not want to keep going." Tengen let out a low chuckled.

"I mean.." Y/n's voice trailed off.

"What's stopping us?"

[cmncisspnandmore]

Can I ask for a Simon Riley x female reader but she's self conscious about her body (things like stretch marks, acne, unconventional body type) but he doesn't give a damn and loves her anyway lol

Here ya go love, sorry it took so long. <3

Pairing: Simon RIley X Reader

Warnings: Reader has body issues? Simon being sweet.

~~~~~

You stare at your reflection i n the mirror, smoothing your dress down for the hundredth time. A small frown on your lips as you tugged the tight fabric, trying to pull it away from your body. You felt like you were a sausage, stuffed tight in its casing. The black dress you bought was meant to be flattering. It was meant to make you feel beautiful. But instead you feel like everyone is staring at the pudge on your stomach. You feel like everyone can see the stretch marks on your arms and legs from growing too quickly. 

With a sigh you reach for the hem of the dress, ripping it up over your head and tossing it to the ground. There was nothing in your closet you felt like wearing. Everything was too tight, or too revealing. It was too flashy and drew attention. Or you were afraid it would be too plain and Simon would feel it wasn’t dressy enough for your date. 

Tears burn in your eyes, you wish you were skinnier. You wish you didn't have stretch marks that tiger striped your skin. But you had tried every diet, every lotion, every solution to make yourself feel better about yourself but nothing worked. At this point you weren't even sure why Simon stuck around. He was gorgeous, he could have any girl he wanted yet he was still here with you. Maybe it was pity? Maybe it was convenient? Maybe he didn't feel like trying to date?

Whatever his reason was you sure as hell didn't feel like you deserved him. You wanted to be beautiful, you wanted to look in the mirror and be happy. You didn't want to stand in front of the mirror trying on every item in your closet only to end up wearing the same things you felt safe in. You wanted to dress up for a date night with Simon and love the way you looked… But instead you sit on the bed and cry.

You hate the way you look. You hate the person who stares back at you. You hate the way your thighs touch and how your hair is never shiny enough. How you didn't fill out dresses the way they did on the mannequins. You wanted to wear dresses and thigh highs, you wanted to wear short sleeves. You wanted to wake up one day and not feel like you had to run 2 miles to eat breakfast. You didn't want to sit down for a meal and wonder if it was worth eating. 

You scrub your hand over your face, the tears slide down your cheeks. A harsh breath rushing past your lips as you sit on the edge of the bed. With a sigh you pull on your hoodie and sweatpants, moving to sit back against the headboard. You stare blankly at the clothes thrown about the room. A reminder of all the outfits you tried on and hated. Why couldn't you just be like the other girls? Be like Soap and Gaz’s girlfriends who seemed to wake up and put on anything they wanted.

You swore they could wear a plastic bag and make it designer. But you? If it didn't hide every curve, every stretch mark and scar on your body you wouldn't even think twice about wearing it. It was an automatic no. There were a few things you felt comfortable wearing, your go to was a hoodie and sweatpants when at home. When did you leave the house? A pair of jeans and an oversized shirt. You hated that when you sat down on the couch your automatic response was to hold a pillow on your lap to try and cover your stomach. You hated how you would suck in subconsciously to try and make yourself smaller.

You put your head down on your knees, your arms wrapped around your legs as you cry softly. When would you feel worth it? When would you be happy with your body?

Simon’s gut tells him something is wrong, you told him you would be out once you were dressed. You were supposed to be going out to the pub with Soap and Gaz tonight. But it had been awhile since you disappeared into the bedroom. 

He makes his way towards your shared room, the door getting stuck slightly as he pushes it open. The clothes on the floor get caught under it and cause resistance. The first thing Simon notices is the entirety of your closet all over the room, the scattered hangers around the room. His brown eyes land on you, your head on your knees, shoulders shaking slightly as you cry. His heart breaks, Simon hated to see you upset, and it was simple for him to piece the puzzle together. Clearly trying to find something to wear didn't go well. 

“Love?” Simon calls softly, as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed. It dips slightly from his weight, and his large hand closes over your wrist. He tugs gently and manages to get you to look up from your knees. A frown coming across his face as he takes in the makeup running down your cheeks.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks softly, hishand coming to brush your mascara tears away.

“I just want to be pretty,..’” you whisper hoarsely.

“You are pretty, baby, why do you think you’re not?” Simon's voice is soft as he moves closer to you. His hands come to rest on the tops of your knees, he gives them a small squeeze.

“I’m not like them…” 

“Like who Love?” 

“Like the other girls… They’re so pretty, they  have perfect hair, perfect skin… They can wear whatever they want and look beautiful.. I wear something remotely skin tight and I look like someone overfilled a sausage casing,” You start to sob, hot fat tears rolling down your cheeks again. 

Simon knew you had some underlying issues with how you looked. You would often mention that you wish you could wear something. Or when you would look at one of your magazines he would see your shoulder slump slightly when you got to the ads. The longing look in your eyes as you looked at the girls that littered the pages. But he didn't care that you didn't look like stick thin overly made up barbies. He loved you for who you were. 

He loved your curves, and the way your body fit against his. He didn't find the girls in the magazines attractive, they looked almost sick to Simon. He had always favored women that had some meat on their bones. The ones who didn't look like one slightly strong wind could blow them over. But most importantly he loved you. 

“Baby, I promise that you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I love every part of you. Your curves. Your stretch marks. The scar on your left shoulder. To the way you crinkle your nose when i say something you find funny but aren't allowed to laugh. I love the way your body fits against mine. I love every part of you, and if I have to tell you every day for the rest of your life just how much I love the parts that you don't , I will.” Simon’s fingers grasp your chin as he leans in, his forehead against yours as he whispers to you.

“You promise?” You whisper, slowly opening your eyes as he pulls back.

“I promise,” He whispers, leaning in and capturing your lips in a soft kiss. “Now how about we stay in tonight, yeah?” He whispers against your lips as his lips ghost along your cheek towards your neck. 

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Undercover in a Skin Tight Skirt

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: The BAU Chief isn’t fond of sending his scantily clad wife in as bait 

Warnings: Misogyny, mentions of rape and murder, near sexual assault, suggestive language, provocative clothing, description of gore, alcohol, religious allusions

Work Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

“The unsub is hunting within what seems to be a pentagram,” Reid explained. “Each club creates a point on the star while the bars have already formed the circle.”

“What is he sacrificing virgins?” Garcia rhetorically asked over the phone. “I don’t know about you but night clubs and bars isn’t where I’d be hunting virgins.”

“Maybe he’s trying to point to the immortality of these types of places. You know alcohol, sex, drugs,” Emily suggested.

“So he’s kidnapping these girls and then he’s raping and murdering them to what? Punish them for their promiscuity?” Morgan suggested.

“Or he feels entitled to them,” I suggested. “Maybe he’s taking them because he believes in polygamy because he’s a man but isn’t receiving the female attention he feels he deserves?”

“Or he feels he deserves as certain woman. Given that every victim was between the ages of 20 and 30, had H/C hair, E/C eyes, and a S/T (skin tone) complexion,” my husband, Aaron suggested.

“Okay so we’ve got a religious man who feels entitled to women, shouldn’t be too hard to find,” JJ said sarcastically.

“Well we need to find him before he finds another girl tonight. If he follows his pattern we’ll have Phoebe Simpson,” the girl who was currently missing, “show up dead tomorrow.”

~

After some research from Garcia and more talking through the profile we found the unsub, Pastor Daryl Richardson. Now the team was just trying to figure out how to catch him since we knew we’d need to catch him in the act. Unfortunately everyone was dancing around me going undercover since no one wanted to suggest putting the boss’ wife in danger.

Finally I had had enough. “Why don’t I just go undercover? Everyone knows I perfectly match the unsub’s type.”

“Y/N,” my husband’s voice immediately warned, not happy about the suggestion.

“Why not?” the local sheriff asked. “Seems like a good plan to me.”

“Because this is an increasingly unstable and erratic unsub and I won’t put my wife in that kind of danger. We’ll figure out another way to catch him. End of discussion,” Hotch declared before storming off.

“Aaron,” I called after him, getting out of my seat to follow. “Aaron what the hell?” I asked once I caught up with him. “Even before I even got into the BAU we both agreed we wouldn’t let our personal lives interfere with a case. Now you’re letting our marriage get in the way of catching this unsub.”

“I am not making this personal,” Aaron insisted.

“Then why’d you say you wouldn’t let your wife do this?” I challenged. “Why didn’t you say my agent or team member?” Aaron was at a loss for words. He knew the ‘that’s not what I meant’ argument wouldn’t work on a profiler. “Look me in the eyes and honestly say you wouldn’t let JJ or Emily do this if they fit the unsub’s type.”

Aaron couldn’t lie to his wife. Truthfully he would be hesitant to allow this with any of his other agents but he wouldn’t forbid it the same way he did with his wife. “I can’t,” he admitted. “Fine you can go undercover but there will be cameras on you at all times, you’ll have a weapon, an agent or officer within ten feet of you, and your outfit won’t be too revealing,” he listed. I rolled my eyes at the final command but agreed nonetheless. Seeing my eye roll, Aaron switched to my lighthearted husband that I rarely saw at work. “What? I have to keep some things just for me.” I let out a laugh at that, heading back into our workspace as Aaron returned to the stoic BAU Chief.

“Agent L/N will be going undercover to be picked up by the unsub. Officers and agents will be stationed throughout the club keeping an eye out for Richardson and my agent. Agent L/N will also have a weapon on her in case of emergencies but there will be cameras on her at all times. When Agents Prentiss and Reid tell us to move over the comms we all move to apprehend the suspect. Is that clear?” Aaron command the room. He wasn’t going to allow any slip ups while his wife was the most vulnerable person in the room. “We’ll reconvene in an hour to give everyone their positions.” The officers all agreed, splitting off to get ready while the sheriff and the rest of your team began looking at the layout of the club.

“Y/N, do you have something you can wear that would attract the unsub’s attention?” Derek asked.

I thought for a second, considering what was usually in my go bag. “No it’s all t-shirts and business casual outfits.”

“There’s a mall just a mile up the road,” the sheriff offered.

“Reid, JJ, go with her to find something for tonight,” Hotch ordered.

“Why am I going shopping?” he protested.

“Because you have sense and will make sure whatever she wears isn’t too bad,” he explained, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.

So Spencer begrudgingly followed JJ and I to the Suburban, with me in the drivers seat. “Do you need something too?” I asked her.

“Probably, I don’t travel with a lot of mini skirts,” she joked.

“Can you believe Aaron actually said my outfit can’t be too revealing?” I asked with a scoff.

“Oh I believe it,” JJ laughed. “He sends death glares to every officer who looks at you a little too long.”

“He does not,” I dismissed.

“He does,” she insisted. “You seriously haven’t noticed?”

“No, have you Spence?” I asked, glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

“He does sometimes,” he agreed.

“Oh my god how did I never notice?” I wondered as I pulled into the mall parking lot.

~

After a few minutes I found a leather skirt and a bustier top. An outfit similar to the ones many of the girls were last seen wearing.

“What do you think?” I asked JJ, stepping out of the dressing room.

“You look great! Hotch is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this.”

“Yeah he definitely will. I’ll make it up to him,” I shrugged. Walking out into the public area I found Spencer in a seat, tapping away on his phone. “What do you think, Spence?”

He glanced up, his jaw dropping open. He had never seen me dress like this, usually I stuck to business casual or field gear. “Wow, you look…” he couldn’t even stutter out the words.

~

Later that night I was doing my makeup in my hotel room, having already gotten changed and done my hair. I heard the door unlock, alerting me to Aaron’s presence. “The cab is here,” he announced walking into the bathroom. Through the mirror I could see him freeze as he caught sight of me. “This is what you’re wearing?” he asked carefully. What he really wanted to say was that there was no way in hell he was ever letting another man lay his eyes on his wife like this.

“It’s similar to what most of the other girls were wearing,” I explained nonchalantly, standing to face him. His gaze immediately slipped down to my chest before settling on my face again. “I’ll make it worth your while tonight,” I promised, sliding my arms around the back of his neck.

Aaron pursed his lips, considering your prospect. “Fine,” he agreed. “C’mon, we need to get you and JJ in the cab.”

Once I got downstairs the team was waiting for me. Derek immediately wolf whistled. “Damn.”

“Wow, you’re really gonna let this happen, Hotch?” Rossi asked.

Aaron shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay in the field? We’re gonna have to let this get fairly far before we can give the order to grab him.”

“I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I’m not letting her go into that club without me. We made vows to not let our personal lives interfere with our professional ones.”

~

JJ and I rode in the cab together acting like already tipsy friends. She almost immediately split off with one of the officers, leaving me at the bar alone. Everyone had a comm except for me, leaving me in the dark about where Richardson could be. The only protection I had as a tiny gun strapped to the inside of my thigh, just barely hidden by the skirt. It was the only place I could conceal it given the tight and revealing nature of my outfit.

It wasn’t long before the pastor slid into the seat next to me. “Can I top off your drink?” he asked, a southern accent detectable in his voice.

“Um sure,” I agreed shyly. “Thanks.”

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I’m sure I’d remember you,” he flirted, his hand already on my knee.

If I didn’t know what I knew about this man I’d honestly be charmed. He didn’t seem to hate women like we profiled but given his level of violence and dominance towards his victims I knew he was picturing all kinds of fucked up ways to torture me. “Oh I’m visiting a friend but she seems to have found a new friend for the night,” I nodded over to JJ who was still dancing with that officer.

“Well maybe I can be your new friend?” he suggested, his fingertips now grazing the hem of my skirt.

“I’d like that,” I smiled brightly, downing my drink before slipping off the stool, leading him to the dance floor.

We danced for a little while, letting him put his hands almost anywhere he wanted. I caught glimpses of my teammates but they were always gone in the blink of an eye and I was a little disappointed to not see Aaron. But nevertheless I let this guy grind on me for a few songs before he pulled me close to his body. “How about we go somewhere quieter? So we can get to know each other,” he suggested in my ear. I nodded eagerly, whirling around to take his hand.

He led me through a series of back doors and hallways. We went so far into the building I began to fear that the team would lose sight of me on the cameras.

Eventually we ended up in a back room. He held the door open for me, forcing me to enter first. “Finally, we can talk,” he said through a creepy smile, locking the door behind him.

My alarms were going off. I knew I was in serious danger now as I tried to back up a little. But he advanced quicker than I anticipated, dragging me onto the floor with him already straddling me. Surely this was enough evidence and my team would come to the rescue. “Get off of me,” I insisted, trying to push him away.

“Girls like you dressing like fucking sluts, just asking for it. You need a Man of God to show you how you should behave,” he said, pulling out duct tape which he began putting over my mouth. He began placing the tape on my arm when he froze. I was still struggling against his weight, all of my FBI training useless against this beast of a man as he put his full weight on me. He reached his hand underneath my skirt when his fingers met the metal of the gun. “What the hell is this?” he yelled angrily, ripping the gun out. He immediately pressed it to my temple. “What are you? A cop?”

“It’s just for protection!” I insisted. “Please I’ll do anything you want.” That was a genuine plea for my life. I had no clue if the team knew where I was or if they had even seen me leave.

“Take off your top,” he ordered angrily, pulling the gun away from my head but still pointing it at me.

“Okay, okay,” I agreed, my trembling hands immediately going to the fasteners of the top. Based on what we profiled this was a major deviation from his routine. But before the man got too frustrated by my genuine inability to undo the top I hear Derek’s scary voice.

“FBI!” he yelled before the door burst open. It all happened so fast Richardson didn’t even have time to react as the door swung open. Several agents and officers were immediately on top of him, pulling him off of me. The next thing I saw was my husband’s face. His rough palms were immediately holding my jaw asking me if I was okay, gently pulling off the duct tape.

“Y-yeah, I’m good,” I agreed, standing up on shaky legs with his help.

Reid and Prentiss ran in, Spencer already holding out his jacket for me. Hotch took it, wrapping it around my shoulders as he tucked my head under his arm as he led me outside. There were already news reporters eager to get a shot of the man that had been terrorizing the city but they became equally interested in “the lone survivor” being escorted under the FBI agent’s arm.

~

Back at the police station I had been given hot coffee and a blanket as Aaron sat beside me on the couch. “He didn’t… touch you, did he?”

“No, the furthest he got was reaching the gun,” I tried to shrug him off. I hated feeling like a victim. I’m an FBI agent who did the job I signed up for.

“He won’t talk,” Derek said, exiting the interrogation room. “We’re not going to be able to intimidate him.”

“Let me try,” I immediately suggested. “We profiled him as a narcissist. The fact that he didn’t get to hurt me will drive him insane. He won’t like that a woman has power over him either. Especially one dressed like this,” I said, gesturing to my outfit.

“No, absolutely not,” Aaron immediately disagreed. “Y/N you just went through a major trauma. He was a second away from raping you.” He was basically begging me to understand how afraid he was.

“He’s in cuffs, I’ll be fine. Aaron, this is the only chance we have if finding Phoebe Simpson alive.”

He sighed deeply. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’m in the room.”

“He won’t talk to me while you’re in the room, I have to be in there alone.” Aaron didn’t like it but he he knew I was right so he just nodded before following me towards the interrogation room.

As I entered the room I could immediately feel Richardson’s eyes rake down my body. “You know for a ‘Man of God’ you sure do have a habit of looking at girls like they’re pieces of meat.”

“It’s your job as a woman to fulfill me,” he shrugged, leaning back in his seat.

“Isn’t one of the Seven Deadly Sins lust, Pastor?”

“It’s not lust to look at what’s mine. God told me that you’re mine.”

“A little late for that,” I mocked, wiggling my ring finger to show off my wedding rings. “Married.”

“Your husband lets you dress like a slut for other men to see? This is why you needed me tonight to show you your place below men, satisfying men.”

“Well I know you’re unsatisfied. They’re already calling me the lone survivor,” I bragged, taking a seat finally. I crossed my arms under my chest, revealing even more cleavage.

Richardson’s eyes immediately went to my chest and stayed there. “What do you mean lone survivor? I haven’t done anything wrong. Except apparently showing you the consequences of your actions is against the law.”

“You know, we have profilers here. That’s how we caught you, they figured out that you kidnap, rape, and murder women to have control over them.”

“I do have control over them.”

“So you are the one that has been kidnapping and murdering these women.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are you just tried to do it to me.”

“No I’m not!” he yelled lunging across the table. I didn’t even flinch, knowing he was restrained, something I was proud of until I heard the door bang open.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Hotch storm up to Richardson, trying to intimidate him. “Hotch, it’s fine. He’s restrained,” I said, never taking my eyes off the unsub. He opened his mouth to protest but I cut him off. “Leave.” Closing his mouth again he complied, storming out of the room.

Outside every member of the BAU had their jaws dropped. Even if it was part of the plan they’d never talk to him the way Y/N just had. Hotch was fuming, not at his wife but at the man who was looking at her like a piece of meat.

“We already know you’re the one hurting these girls, tell us where Phoebe is and I’ll tell the prosecutor you were compliant.”

“What so my sentence gets reduced from five life sentences to four?” he spat.

Establishing my dominance wasn’t working anymore so I stood up. “Among other privileges in prison,” I coyly suggested, sitting on the table next to him. I was keenly aware of how high my skirt was riding right now.

Outside Hotch was screaming in his mind for his wife to not get within reach of the very dangerous man she was interrogating. The team nervously observed his angry expression.

“So tell us where Phoebe is and maybe I’ll make an appearance in your life again once or twice. I’d be so grateful.”

His hands were now straining against the cuffs to touch me but I was just out of reach. Unable to let the idea of sex with a woman he wanted to control go, he relented. “I brought all the girls to a friend’s farm.” With that I quickly hopped off the table, strutting out of the room. “Hey! What do I get?”

“Nothing, you get nothing,” I promised, exiting the room. “I’m coming with,” I said to the team already grabbing the bag of extra clothes and heading for a bathroom. I changed the fastest I ever had in my life and soon I was running out to the Suburban, my team and field gear already inside. Hopping in we took off as I strapped on my vest and boots.

“Never knew you were such a temptress,” Derek laughed.

“Men are so easy to manipulate when you take away what they want.”

We caught up with the rest of the SWAT team just as we pulled up to the farm. “We’ll take the house!” Aaron ordered and we followed him. Morgan kicked down the door and we were immediately confronted with the most putrid smell.

We went through clearing the rooms until I entered the bedroom. The smell became so strong I nearly gagged and I was horrified to see the already decomposing body of Phoebe Simpson. “We got a body in the bedroom,” I announced.

“Is is Simpson?” Rossi asked as he entered.

“Yeah,” I sighed dejectedly.

As Aaron came in he was horrified to see the state of the body. Aside from the decomposition she had been left in an abused state, cast aside like garbage. He became disgusted realizing that could’ve been Y/N. He knew she was safe, there was more law enforcement surrounding that nightclub than the White House but he still couldn’t help but think of the worst case scenario. He immediately reached for his wife, pulling her into his chest to assure himself she was there. Breathing in the scent of her hair as they exited the room.

Masterlist

Smutty follow up

[soultek]

Late To The Party - Roronoa Zoro x Female!Reader (One Piece Live Action)

💚As it's a certain someone's birthday today!💚

A/N: I feel literally late to the party myself with this - but there we are!

Also not the Zoro I ever expected to be writing for but I was just too inspired NOT to go for it!

100% inspired by 'Dance With Me?' by @alotofrandomfangirling. I read that fic, listened to this song and was like "Oh it's all fits nicely!" and then kinda ran with it! [BTW - you should OBVIOUSLY go and read her fic!]

Ahh... and also, for getting me through all this OPLA fangirling @alotofrandomfangirling this one is also 100% for you! 😁❤

Disclaimer: As usual, nothing except the reader character is mine (loosely based on my OG anime counterpart character Zoro!SO) I tried to keep him as close to his OPLA self as possible but I can't promise I didn't let a bit of his anime personality slip in but I have read this back so many times now I'm like 99.9% he's LA accurate!

Warnings etc: Drinking, mention of injury/scars, super mild cursing, established (secret?) relationship.

Premise: With a party happening in the port you happen to be calling in, you and the crew take the opportunity to be social. Zoro takes it as an opportunity to drink, but maybe that isn't the only reason he's going...

Words: 6325

Song Inspo: Late To The Party - Kasey Musgraves

---

By the time we get there Everybody will be drunk The chairs will be on tables And the band will be unplugged We're gonna look real good But we're gonna look real rude I'm sorry I'm not sorry that I'm Late to the party with you Let's promise when we get in That we'll try to get right out Fake a couple conversations Make the necessary rounds These kinda things just turn into Who's leaving here with who? But I just want 'em all to see me come in...

Late to the party with you Oh, who needs confetti? We're already falling into the groove And who needs a crowd When you're happy at a party for two? The world can wait 'Cause I'm never late to the party If I'm late to the party with you

---

Nothing was right. Every outfit you tried just ended up with a sighed 'No.', before being thrown in the corner. Everything else was done – hair and makeup went perfect; you were maybe even quick with those. But this... This was taking the time. Sure, you probably could throw on any old thing and get away with it - this wasn't some fancy dinner, or anything you had to look good for. Just a port with a party. But that was the point - it was a party. It was a chance to be sociable, dress up for a change. It was your thing. And you were late.

Snapping you from your thoughts with a jump, was a loud pounding on the door behind you. It was almost accompanied by a shriek, but luckily you saved yourself the embarrassment of that. Whipping around, you could feel your heart beating a million miles an hour - you didn't realise any of the crew were still here.

"Y/N! What the hell is taking you so long!?" Your eyes widened to the voice; now you were doubly glad you hadn't screamed. Opening the door ajar, you poked your head out and were faced with the unimpressed look of the crew’s resident green-haired swordsman. On second thought that was just his natural expression. You opened the door a little wider, halfway between asking a question and looking around to answer it yourself - was everyone else still here? Evidently, he wasn't done ridiculing you; "What the hell!? You're not even changed!? Even I got changed!" Your eyes focused back on him... Well, he wasn't wrong. He had changed his shirt. You indicated to the pile of clothes strewn on the floor, "Well I didn't know what to wear!" Now you were talking to Zoro, you might as well ask; "Wait, is everyone still here!?" His hands went to his pockets as he shuffled a little on his feet, eyes moving from yours, "No, but I said I wasn't leaving without you, now hurry up!" "…Hurry up!?" You folded your arms, eyes narrowed. You'd known him long enough to be able to read him pretty well, "Zoro, I bet you don’t even want to go!" He copied your crossed arm stance, "Maybe it's not my scene but if it’s a party, there’s alcohol." You couldn't help but roll your eyes, 'good lord.' Resisting shaking your head you turned your full attention back to him, glancing head to toe; "You’re going with your swords? Really?" Zoro was as defensive as you expected, "You never know what’ll happen." That seemed typically him. "Well…" You turned back to your clothes with a smile, finally deciding on something that would complement what he was wearing, "you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take mine." "Annnnnd that’s why I’m the better swordsman." You glanced back over your shoulder to shoot him a look. Despite how nonchalantly he'd declared it, the tiny smirk on his face said everything. “I am but a humble student, you’re supposed to be better than me.” He laughed, short, more like a bark; “Humble is the word you’d use, huh!? Interesting…” You turned your body fully back to him, hands on your hips. "Why would you even think I would debate-" You cut yourself short, realising that somehow Zoro was managing to stall time even more. So much for hurrying you up. "HEY! Will you get out of here and let me change!"

Sensing he was clearly enthusiastic; you gave him 15 more minutes before you headed back out on deck. He was standing with his hands in his pockets again, ankles crossed over each other as he leaned back on the railing. Glancing you up and down he gave a single simple nod. This was Zoro, so that was a complement and you would take it. There was silence between you for a moment, but the sound of a party was in the air. It was loud, it sounded busy. Exactly the kind of thing you liked. Exactly the reason it had taken you so long to get ready in the first place. And he knew that. The man in front of you however…

Zoro walked forward a couple of steps, slowly, looking around as if on high alert. He stopped not even a foot from you, brown eyes focusing back on yours. His voice was flat, but it was a distinct tease. "You know, a lookout not on deck is no good." You could have seen it coming from a mile off, but there was something about him that made you rise to it anyway. "Looking out for what?! We’re docked! You seem to believe you’re doing a better job, and you were still here.” He indicated to himself, "First mate. Lookout is not in my official job title." He was going to drive you insane. Your breath was deep but you held back the ‘my god, how did I end up with you!?' - for both ways he could take it and neither ending up in your favour. Instead, you cleared your throat and threw your hand in the direction of the port, “Can we just go please - if you’re so eager?! You did just rush me.” Zoro shuffled on his feet a bit more before he decided to respond with, “Fine.” That did not mean that he moved very fast at all, and you shook your head slowly, following him. Apparently, the draw of alcohol wasn't even doing it tonight. You did wonder sometimes, you really did…

Once you got down the gangplank, Zoro turned immediately left. You glanced to your right; exactly where all the light and sound was coming from. God help you now... You raised your eyes to the sky; 'idiot.' Instead of saying anything, you simply reached out and took his hand. Seemed like a natural enough thing to do... He was fine with it within the confines of a room training. Touch was okay there. But in public, you couldn't be sure. Not even on a currently deserted dock. But Zoro didn't jerk away, and even when he walked far enough for his arm to pull back when you weren’t moving, he didn't drop it. Turning back to you, standing rooted in place, staring at him. Your arm stretched as far as it would go with his doing the same, hands still together. You tipped your head in the opposite direction. Once again, not a word passed your lips. His eyes moved around you to the port, but he barely acknowledged it before walking back to you, and then in step. You let him dictate the pace - still super slow.

Zoro cleared his throat, deciding that he would comment on the situation. "I knew that, I was just taking the scenic route." You declined to comment that the scenic route was about to lead Zoro off the end of the pier. There was humour in your voice, “Every route with you is the scenic route…” You wouldn't say you struck a nerve, but there was something sharp in his voice. “What are you trying to insinuate?!” You opted to just shake your head again, amusement obvious on your features; even if it was clear, you were saying something. Zoro narrowed his eyes at you, keeping them on your face to wait for you to break. Unfortunately for you, it didn't take long to start giggling. Composing yourself a little, you came up with a decent excuse. “Hey, look, I just don’t want to lose you. It’s pretty busy.”

To your earlier point, the dock around you was dead, but the direction you were heading in seemed overly crowded. Zoro, still focused on the surrounding area, was halfway through raising an eyebrow to correct you - when he realised the joke. “HA. Lose.” Again, you said nothing, maintaining innocence. If that was the conclusion he wanted to jump to - correct or otherwise. For a minute or so you thought you'd get away with it, until you found your left hip bumped by not just one, but all three of his swords - which caught across your ankle for good measure, so his timing must have been impeccable. You paused your walk for a moment, looking across to him, clearly unimpressed. Rubbing your side with your free hand. Zoro merely shrugged, voice once again level. "Sorry." His first thought had really been to muss your hair or something, but that would have meant dropping your hand, and he really didn't want to let that go. It was also the perfect excuse when his swords were between you. In honesty you thought you probably did deserve some retaliation. "Maybe you should walk on the other side of me." "Not exactly my first thought, swordsman." Maybe you would have held his hand otherwise, but this had started practically... Now it was turning more romantic. Even if the words weren't. "If you had yours that wouldn't happen." "If I had mine things would be worse - probably for me." Considering you wore yours on your left hip you probably would have had to walk on his other side... "Yeah, that’s you up against me.” (It didn’t cross your mind he would be talking about anything except sword fighting until later.) “What!? I can’t believe you’d-” What did that have to do with anything!? “Name one time you’ve ever beaten me….” You remained silent. “Exactly.” Something within you felt determined to get him back for that comment - such had your friendship always been before it had become a relationship. “You know when I said that I bet what happened with Mihawk was awful for you and I was sorry you had to go through it?” Zoro almost smirked following your train of thought, “What? Not exactly feeling that right now?” The smile you gave him in response was crooked, “Yeaaah…”

So, his only option was to one up you, “Okay, well, next time how about I just put my sword through you instead of just barely grazing you. The AUDACITY!? This time he raised a gasp from you. You turned to retaliate, but funnily enough at the exact same time you gripped his hand a little tighter - this was play fighting. “Just barely—!? You call this just barely grazing!? I damn well needed stitches! It’s going to leave a mark!” Zoro listened, body half turned into yours, but he wasn't looking at you, continuing to stare in the direction you were walking. He simply indicated to his chest; 'really!?'. You knew you had no option but to drop it then - because fair enough. But there was still a deep cut across your left shoulder blade that he had left there. Instead, you sighed gently, turning back to the lights glittering off the water, everything was getting steadily louder as you got ever closer. You smiled again, “It’s okay. I know I’m the 5th wheel here…” Zoro frowned momentarily at your math; mentally counting the crew, before he realised you were talking about his swords. He shook his head in response, lacing his fingers with yours.

You weren’t quite sure how this had happened in the first place. It also wasn't meant to be like you were sneaking around behind the crew’s backs, you just weren't ready to be out in the open yet. You'd both been bounty hunters; Zoro mostly worked alone but very occasionally you had worked together. Had a couple of other good bounty hunting buddies too – and the four of you were a decent team. It hadn't taken long for you to develop a crush on him - and as a swordswoman yourself you were in awe of his skills. It was something you only ever strived to get better at. You'd pushed that crush back a long time ago in favour of friendship - after all, unless you were going to team up permanently (not his thing.) there was not much point in getting serious about it. Added to that, Zoro never at all seemed interested in romance. You had been content to just keep seeing him around. That was until rumours started flying around the community that the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was now a pirate himself. Had joined a crew and everything. At first you had simply laughed it off as ridiculous. That must have been some other guy calling himself 'Roronoa Zoro' because there was no way in hell the man you knew was going to do that. How wrong you were, sufficiently curious to follow the rumours along until you both ended up on the same island. And sure enough there he was - with a crew calling themselves the Straw Hats. A crew you now found yourself a part of, having practically begged him to teach you after he'd kicked your ass yet again. (Like you weren't about to miss a bounty hunting opportunity - even if it was him.) Now you were, as you had pointed out to him earlier, a humble student.

The relationship element was new. You knew you weren't sure who or what started it, but it happened and it just felt like a good natural progression. Neither of you were really pushing that relationship aspect currently. You were close for sure, and you always kept close. ALL the time. (And if anyone on the crew was suspicious, they didn't call it out.) You held hands after training... When you were alone. It never progressed much further than that. Passed a confession and the agreement that you were, indeed, a couple.

Yet here you were, Zoro was not protesting holding your hand on the way to the party. And hadn't he just been the one to link your fingers in this way? That hadn't been you.

Stepping up from the dock onto the port side you were both bathed in light. It went from just the two of you to apparently everyone else in the world who had descended on the little town. You weren’t sure where to look – there was so much to take in. The bustle of the people – of all ages – was secondary to the bright colours all around. Shops, restaurants, bars, and their patrons spilled out onto the streets – covered in bright neon decorations and constantly glittering lights. In the central square ahead of you, music played from an elevated platform; even from here neither of you could tell if it was a live band playing or simply amplified through a sound system, only that the gathering of people around it were dancing. All down either street was a collection of booths selling various foods, drinks, wears and even offering games to play, each one looking as busy as the next and all dressed in the same bright colours as the permanent stores. Happy voices called out to each other: both friends and merchant alike. It was more like a festival than a party and you wondered quietly if that was actually what you had stumbled upon. There was so much to see and do, standing up on the street you almost weren’t sure what to give your attention to first: but you knew it was going to be a fun evening. Zoro could feel the energy from the party hit you instantly; if he didn’t know any better, he would say you were vibrating – you had an entirely different buzz about you than you had 2 seconds ago walking with him down here. He could feel it all through your connected hands, see it in the way your eyes were almost sparkling (though, that could have been the reflection of the lights). This was your domain; you were as in your element here as he was with three swords.

Zoro instinctively pulled you closer - if you didn't want to lose him in the crowd this was the only way. "You know where they are?" "In case you didn't notice - which you did - I wasn't the one looking out for them!" "Right... Stay close. Don't let go." He pulled you forward, and tonight you decided you would just trust him with directions. The 'don't let go' hit different though; if he was going to drop your hand at any point it would be now - not only in a very public place, but the chance of any of the crew happening upon you at any second. You almost wondered aloud if it might have been due to him spending his time waiting for you drinking; loosening up a bit. It would have made sense, but it didn't seem like it. Zoro was going to the party for alcohol. If he had it on him back at the ship, why would he bother? Unless...

You were snapped from that thought by suddenly being pulled in another direction. Finding yourself steered towards a building labelled 'Bar.' Figures he'd be able to find that with no issue. You continued scanning the crowds; the crew must have been around, but also at this point were long gone to you. And Zoro was clearly interested in drinking, pushing the door open with the most enthusiasm you'd seen out of him all night. But he wasn't just holding your hand for the sake of holding it. He knew men. You had dressed up for this because you had a social side. If he didn't clearly indicate who you were with, you were as likely to end up in trouble as anything. Another reason to keep those swords on hand; if anyone dared try anything he was sending clear signals. In the bar the crowds were even more dense, and you moved closer to him, free hand coming across your body to touch his arm; if you were going to hold his hand any tighter it might actually hurt. Still, Zoro couldn't help his little smile. You scanned the gathering more, swallowing hard at the realisation of how many eyes were suddenly on you. Drawn not just to yourselves, but also more closely to the points of connection between you and your entwined fingers. Your gaze flicked back to him, still solely focused on leading you to the bar - if Zoro had noticed this attention, he paid it no mind. You almost envied that. You were very aware of how gorgeous he was - you weren’t blind! You were unlikely to be the first or only girl to ever have fallen for this man. You were just the lucky one that had him…. Somehow! If you were any other girl in this room, you'd be jealous, too.

After what felt like an age, you finally made it to the edge of the bar. He brought your twined fingers up to it, unlinking your hands but keeping them close, leaning forward to try to find the barkeep. At this point the aged wood was littered with empty glasses and bottles. You hoped for the sake of your partner the whole bar wasn't already dry. Without even asking you were both presented with a beer, "Ahh! What can I get the lovely young couple then, eh? First one is on the house!" Zoro was clearly irked by the descriptor - but got straight to the point, "What have you got? Bottle of your best...?" He waited for the suggestion. "Well, uh, I'll have to see, sir! I would expect most things are out by now, but I'm sure I can find something." "Okay. Then," Zoro's sigh was deep, like he was trying not to think about it being the only reason he came down here. "I'll have a bottle of whatever you have left!" He turned to you, look pointed, "Clearly, we are late to the party."

You were about to commend him on just the one - realising suddenly you were going to quickly become the 6th wheel in this relationship to alcohol - when you were interrupted by the overly loud calls of your captain. "HEEEYYY!! ZORO! Y/N!!!" You barely had time to turn before Luffy was throwing his arms around you and pulling you together in a three-way hug, "Where did you go!? We were worried about you guys!" "Ah, blame her. She takes too long!" You punched Zoro's arm playfully, but you returned your hand to resting next to his on the bar. Luffy said nothing - likely oblivious as ever; but you could bet if one person in the crew didn't care, it would be him. Luffy grinned, "Well it doesn't matter! You're both here now! Ahh you gotta try the food, it's so good!" You turned back to the busy room, watching everyone else laughing and joking together. Luffy and Zoro followed your eyeline. Zoro's hand brushed against yours for your attention before he nudged you, "Go on." "W-what about you!?" You whipped back, a little too quick to protest. Luffy looked between you. "I'll be fine here. Besides, I can keep an eye on you from the bar. That's what you want to be here for, go have fun." Fun definitely didn't seem like the word Zoro would use, but this wasn't about him. It was about you. You looked to the bottle of beer you'd been given and pushed it towards him, "Here, just in case they can't find you anything else. I think you need it more than me!" Turning to Luffy you smiled sweetly, rubbing his shoulder, "Look after him for me!" "I will do!" Luffy grinned, Zoro just shook his head. But you knew he had everything he needed right there. You let your eyes linger on his and focused on that touch for just a moment longer, before you slipped from under the arm of your captain and went to make yourself sociable with the other crew and townsfolk. Surely Usopp, Nami and Sanji were in here somewhere... Glancing back over your shoulder you watched Luffy take your place, chatting excitedly to his first mate. He had Zoro's full attention; it made your laugh to yourself. You were going to end up so many wheels back you might as well have not been in this relationship...!

You were social, it was one of your greatest strengths. It was easy to make friends. It made it easy to get information. That was how you used to do your bounty hunting. You could talk to anyone and everyone easily. You liked listening to people's life stories - hearing about all the places they were visiting. The islands you’d landed on; about what there was to do in the area, even if you never went yourself. You liked talking about the tiny East Blue island you'd grown up on. You had enough stories from sailing across the East Blue yourself. And you could twist the crews’ stories into something a little less... Pirate-y. You always enjoyed it, you always had fun. If someone asked you to dance, you would. If someone wanted to drink with you, you were down. Tonight... Tonight you realised that even in your element, you were not having fun. Not as much fun as you wanted. Not alone.

You hadn't thought about it before. Hadn't considered when you were getting ready that it would ever be the case. You expected to have a good time with the crew - your relationship and anything that might happen with it tonight was an added bonus to something you loved doing. But in the middle of the conversation, you couldn't help realising how much you didn't want to be there. At least... Not in the company of these people.

You looked back over your shoulder to the bar, and were almost surprised to see not only was Zoro alone once more (you would have put money on either Luffy dragging him along, or Luffy dragging everyone else over to him), but he was staring at you. Clearly, he wasn't going to take his eyes off you tonight. When Zoro said he was keeping an eye on you he meant it. And maybe he’d never say it out loud, but with you looking like this, that wasn’t the only reason. The two bottles besides him were finished. But whatever the bar man had managed to find him was unopened. He turned slowly to it, before wrapping his fingers around the neck and dragging it off the bar. Gesturing with it towards you, before tipping his head back towards the ship. You smiled, and suddenly it was the happiest you had felt all evening. In that moment you knew exactly where you wanted to be. And tonight, where you would rather find yourself.

He met you by the door as you politely excused yourself from the conversation, this time taking his other hand and making sure to walk on his left. The knowing smile on Zoro's face indicated he knew you were learning. A tiny piece of your felt bad, as he opened the door back into the night air - the crowd was a little thinner, but the party was still in full swing. It felt like you were bailing, you'd been late and you were leaving almost immediately. But it wasn't as if people could say you hadn't turned up. Luffy at the very least had seen both of you there. But there was something inside you that stirred in excitement at the thought of sneaking back to the Merry with a bottle...

If you had gone at a snail’s pace to get here, you practically ran back. Or you would have thought you had, considering how giggly and breathless you were, despite not having drunk at all tonight. Yet. With the bottle in his hand that was clearly going to change. Zoro removed his sword belt, propping them up against the wooden railing of the ship, before blowing out a breath and settling beside them; back up against a pillar, he stretched his legs out in front of him, placing the bottle between them. You shook your head, sitting yourself down in front of him with a grin. At least out here it was quiet, the air was cooler. Zoro closed his eyes for a moment, tipping his head back; allowing you to trace the lines of his face. His jaw and down his neck, up over his broad shoulders and down his toned arms, to his fingers. You thought for a moment about the skilful way he could un- and re-sheath his swords. How any just-so movement with his fingers would move those blades to make perfect strikes. You hadn't been present for the fight with Mihawk that had made the scar across his chest. That was a little too much to think about, but the shirt you were coordinating with tonight exposed enough of his chest for a part of it to be visible... But you still couldn't imagine Zoro losing. Even when you could imagine just how incredible the 'World’s Greatest Swordsman' was.

You bit your lip, thinking about your earlier jab, and suddenly felt terrible. "Hey, Zoro..." "Mhm..." He initially kept his eyes closed and head tipped back, but when you didn't continue, he changed his position to look at you. With your eyes and expression a little guilt ridden; he couldn't help tipping his head in confusion. You took a breath, and although it seemed like you wanted to look away from him, you didn't: "What I said earlier about the Mihawk fight... You know I didn’t mean it, right?” Zoro almost chuckled - that was debatable. But he had known you was joking with him. "Y/N, you worry too much." "But I still-" "Of course, I do." It's what you wanted to hear - so he would satisfy that. You sat back on your hands with a smile, this time voice a little sweeter; "And what I said about being with you being scenic… you know I did mean it, right?” You had realised the hilarity of saying every route with him was the scenic one, and that depending on how you'd said it, how it could have been either a sarcastic tease on his sense of direction or a very smooth romantic flirt. Internally you'd kicked yourself for not realising sooner and now - despite it being obvious at the time which you were going for - you wondered which way he’d actually taken it… Zoro cracked a grin, clearly he'd noticed it too. “Oh. You mean I am the view.” Even though, by the look on his face, you knew Zoro understood you hadn’t meant it that way. Yet, you couldn't help but blush a little, “Glad we could agree.” “That would be a first…” You were compelled; you leaned forward and smacked his leg. It was likely always going to be a knee-jerk reaction to his teasing. That just made him chuckle, and he picked up the bottle again, cracking it open. "Should I get some glasses?" "Glasses?" Zoro scoffed, "Hell no. Now c'mere." He beckoned you forwards.

You couldn't help being intrigued, but as you moved to the side of him, Zoro grabbed your waist, pulling you to sit between his legs. For a minute you struggled, both shrieking and laughing, pushing against him enough that he had to physically hold you in place. You relented, giggles still rising in your chest as his arms wound around your waist. Head propped back against his chest you looked up at him. "Okay fine, you win!" "I'll just chalk yet another one up." "Ah, keep them, I'm never beating you." "Wow." He smirked again, "Did we just agree on two things? Careful, Y/N, we might be on a roll!" You nudged his face with your palm, "Hush!" Causing Zoro to grab your hand and interlink your fingers again. The movement caused his piercings to run together, making them chime softly. You focused on them dancing for a moment, unable to help yourself from reaching out and making the gold ring together again. Zoro simply shook his head at you, picking up the bottle he'd just opened (and somehow in all that hadn't spilled everywhere.) and taking a sip. "Whatever helps you amuse yourself." "One per sword?" "I'm not even answering that." "Hey, it's a valid question!" After all, you had a multitude of piercings in both your ears and didn't carry nearly that many weapons. He ignored you, holding the bottle out. You accepted it gratefully and read the label; "Any good?" "It's alcohol, even the bad stuff is good." "Yeah, no," you sighed, "that sounds like you." You took a drink and concluded that this one was indeed, pretty good. Taking another sip, he smacked the top of your thigh, "Hey! No drinking the whole bottle, I waited too long to get that one!" You almost choked, "And you won't get any if you make me spill the damn thing!" "You do that, I'll be throwing you overboard and telling the crew you elected to stay in town." "Thing is I wouldn't put it past you..." You handed the bottle back to Zoro, making yourself comfortable against his body, "I'm just saying a good boyfriend wouldn't do that." You heard Zoro huff a laugh as he lifted the bottle to his lips again, "Ah, I never promised to be one of those." "What? A good boyfriend?" "That's the one." "Well. A girl can dream." "That's all you'll be doing." You let out a laugh then, a full-blown belly laugh. "I know you're determined to ruin this, but you can't. It's not happening. This is exactly what I wanted." "Me?" But he left it there, fingers of the hand not holding the bottle finding yours again.

You sat in silence for a moment, the only sound your breathing and the back and forth of the liquid in the bottle every time he took a drink. Further back, the dull hum of the party, and the waves lapping at the side of the Merry. Inspecting the bottle once more Zoro realised it was nearly empty. Looking down at you in his arms he realised your eyes were closed. "Hey..." He tried softly, so not to wake you if you were asleep. "Mmm?" Your response let him know that even if you weren’t, you weren’t far off. "You want any more of this?" "Oh, no." You shuffled a little more, head moving to his shoulder, opening more of your body to the warmth of his, Zoro found himself pulling his legs in closer to aid you with this. "It's yours. You said it yourself; it was hard to come by. And I know it was the only reason you were going anywhere near the party." He stared at you for a moment, and then between you and the bottle. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his next soft smile. "Well, maybe it wasn't the only reason." You didn't respond, but he saw the smile on your face grow.

By the time he'd finished the drink you were asleep, and even when he moved himself to get a little more comfortable - careful with you still in his arms - you didn't wake. He'd have to be vigilant, glancing to his swords... Just in case anyone did think they were about to come on here and try to mess with you, or the ship. Come to think of it, where were yours...? ‘Ah forget it, I could handle it myself.’ He looked back down to you, peaceful. Pressed up against him, Zoro suddenly noticed how warm you were. How the air had a distinct chill to it the later into the night it became. (Heck, maybe it was early morning now. But there was no way of knowing - especially with none of your crewmates around.) Delicately he brushed some of your hair out of your face, before pressing his lips fleetingly to your forehead. Closing his eyes, he propped his head on top of yours, position of his body protective to your smaller form. He almost laughed to himself - when the hell did something like this happen? "Goodnight, Y/N..." * * *

It was not the scene the crew expected to return to, that was for sure. Looking between each other and trying to determine who might have had any indication that you were in any way a “thing.” Clearly, you and Zoro had been just that good at keeping it under wraps. Not that it mattered much now; nothing could have been more obvious! “What. The. Hell!?” Sanji was the first one to gain anything near composure enough to talk - although not composure in general. Nami and Usopp had to move quickly to hold him back; “I’m going to KILL that moss-head!” “Sanji! No! Wait!!”

Nami internally cursed herself for not being the first one on the ship. If she had been, she could have kept the rest of them away and would have had pretty good ammo for blackmailing you both for Berri. Ah well, no good thinking too much on that now. “I, for one, think it’s sweet.” Sanji scoffed. “Maybe she’ll lighten him up a little! God knows he needs that. Always so damn serious! And unsociable! I would welcome that change.” “Not with her though!” Sanji made another noise of discontent, making Nami sigh. As if Sanji would be fine with Zoro being with any other woman – on this crew or otherwise? She looked back to the scene; cuddled up together and sleeping soundly. It was late - maybe even early - and the air was much cooler than it had been before, rolling in from the sea. “Can one of you get a blanket? Last thing we need is either of them catching a cold!” Luffy - who had just been staring at you up until now, trying to add it all up in his head; it would explain how close you were at the bar but also… - suddenly sprang into life: “I’LL DO IT!” Nami grabbed him, clamping her hand over his mouth, “Stop yelling you idiot! You’ll wake them up!” Sanji actually thought that was a great idea - but he wasn’t exactly the person who was going to go against Nami’s wishes.

Luffy’s version of quiet was more of a shouted whisper, and he sounded out his words in their syllables for emphasis. “Sorry. I’ll get it!” Nami placed her hand against her forehead watching him walk off in big slow steps - she truly was surrounded by idiots. It was a good thing she loved them.

By the time he came back, she’d managed to successfully move Usopp and Sanji on. And once he handed her what she’d asked for, she began ushering Luffy away (which, considering him, ended up only being a few feet further back.) Rolling her eyes, Nami sighed again, unfurling the blanket, and throwing it carefully over you both. She tucked it as much as she thought she’d get away with before it woke you up and stood back admiring her handy work.

Luffy looked between you and her, “Soooo… will they be alright now?!” “I think so…” Nami turned to him, and pushed, “Now will you get out of here and give them some quiet!” “Well, what about you!?” “I’m leaving too! Honestly—!” “Okaaaaay….!!” He protested as if he wasn’t protesting and walked away.

But when Nami turned back, she almost jumped. Zoro’s eyes were open, and he was staring at her. From the expression on his face, she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or not. She decided she’d probably rather not enquire. After a little while of unnerving her on purpose, Zoro closed his eyes again. But he spoke, voice quiet. “Thanks, Nami.” She smirked, because this was her chance. He’d just left that door wide open and she wasn’t missing the opportunity. “You’re welcome. But you guys owe me!” He sighed - knew it! - this much more of discontent, “Of course.”

---

One swordsman down, two to go! 😁 💚🖤💛

[verlaineszz]

I'D BLEED FOR YOU IF YOU HELD ME CLOSE.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ CANNIBAL! Dazai x EERIE PHANTOM LIKE ! FEM! Reader

✮⋆˙༒︎ — SUMMARY: wasted along the parts of yokohama at nightfall, an eerie spirit roams around the forests and graveyards, a spirit that wasn't just a spirit but a phantom. A phantom that had regeneration abilities and haunting quirks.

Dazai osamu, a man who was drunk and starved wandered off near a graveyard and he sees a figure. A figure that he has never seen before.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ ANGST + HORROR + FLUFF + SUGGESTIVE

A/N: its me again! :D this story is based off the metaphor for love, cannibalism. I hope you guys enjoy it, I'm trying to grow my account so if you enjoy horror like themes like vampires, you can check out my blog!! This is my 2nd fanfiction post so i hope you all enioy it! (≧▽≦) also, for more context—

Reader has a mysterious doll like personality since she is a phantom. Readers outfit is like a porcelain doll. (her personality is like columbinas!)

NOT PROOFREAD BTW!

༒︎ — Warnings: Blood, Death, g0re, cursing

The moon has risen up and the sun has gone down, and dazai had gotten drunk to ease his problems, he walks around near a graveyard but he hears an audible whisper that he couldn't make out where it was coming from, he genuinely thought he was high. He ignored it and kept walking, his stomach grumbled since he hasn't fed on anyone for days. He ignored the feeling since it really didn't matter to him, he tried to eat ordinary food like hamburgers and what not but nothing made him have the feeling of over indulgence other than human meat.

He walks around the graveyard and he felt like utter shit, his head was spinning but he couldn't remember anything. All he knew that he was drawn to the graveyard, but all he heard was whispers of a female voice and the voice was calling out his name— "dazai"

He continues walking and ignoring it before being met with a female figure that had a dress like a porcelain dolls. You stared at him with a neutral but eerie expression, he stops and looks at you, just staring with no intent to do anything but stare. You walk closer and you stare at him, analyzing his every move and how his thoughts lingered through the taste of blood. He stares at you curious, analyzing you as well and your mannerism but he was drunk so he couldn't get a great look.. But he didn't forget your face. You look at him and he looks at your arm, you had a living and working body but it had special abilities. Regeneration. He stares at your arm and he gulps, he has starved himself for days and he might aswell just collapsed right there and then and by the look of his pale face, you already cracked the code— he was a cannibal.

You looked at his hair and his clothes, he seemed like one attractive young man and you have been wandering around the forests and graveyard for years alone since you were connected to it. And you had just the abilities to serve him and make him your own.

"Are you hungry?" you ask with an eerie small smile as the lit moon shined upon the both of you, crows everywhere and fog everywhere, leaving only the presence of you two. He looks at you abit taken back from the question but he showed neutral expression, standing there with his hands in his coats pockets, he then replies back a small response, "yeah." he replies back.

He looks down on you while the wind flow through him at his direction, your hair flowing behind you as his flows through in front, you grin and you initiated a conversation with him to get to know more about him.

"your name? Perhaps." you ask, tilting your head to the side just a bit as a way of showing curiosity.

"Dazai osamu." he replies with a small smile, he stares at you and analyzing your behavior and your appearance as if you were a fish caught on a hook, he wasn't gonna lie but he absolutely found your appearance attractive.

You continue analyzing him, his face was abit flushed, his eyes glossy and he reeked the scent of alcohol, he was drunk and you wanted to take advantage of it by getting information from him.

"Are you cursed with the tragedy of understanding people but nobody understanding you?" you ask so suddenly, he chuckles and he looks down on you, finding the question new. "and how do you know this?" he chuckles.

You tried to make him open up more and you knew that he was somewhat broken, from his bandages and to his drunken state. "are you?" you added into the conversation, "maybe." he says in a curious tone, getting curious in where the conversation is going.

"Do you need anything from me pretty lady?"

He asks, you grin and you reply, "ah.. Yes. Just a few questions and a prize in the end, that is all." you say with an eerie smile, which dazai didn't mind. He found it new but he wanted to know what the prize was. Though he was wary of you and your aura, he decided to take a gamble because in his point of view, death is just an extension or a part of life. And what a better way to die is to perish by the hands of a beautiful woman?

"ask away then."

"are you happy? Are you sad? What is that one thing that fills your core? " you ask with a grin, he looks down on you with a neutral expression, his heart beating and he thinks about question.. But really he didn't feel anything most of the time, he wasn't completely emotionless but he wasn't particularly happy nor sad, and the core..that gaping hole that eats through him like leeches sucking him dry. What did he want? He doesn't know, he thinks and he shrugs, he was drunk so he was half honest and half his facade, his way of coping is through humor so he said what he thought would hide his internal feelings. "you.. Really ask weird questions you know?" he chuckles. "i just live like any other human being of course. But by core I'm not sure." bullshit, he thought. Human? Not him. He didn't understand what humanity felt like, he always felt like something was missing..

You nod and continue to ask more questions and so did he, but the difference was the way you answered his questions were different. It wasn't completely true and it was just halfway of the real thing, which kept you mysterious and that made him attracted to you like a magnet.

"Your soul must be unfortunate." you say. Slowly circling him as he stands there, slightly stumbling with a wary but interested vibe. "maybe it is, but maybe yours is unfortunate as well, you're talking to some random guy you know?" he says in a slightly tipsy way.

"Are you still starved?"

He chuckles, "i just drank. Maybe."

"do you wanna eat?" you ask, he was curious about what you meant by thar so he smirks and nods. "yeah, i do." you stand infront of him and you raise your arm, he raises an eyebrow as he squints in curiosity and out of the lingering effects of the alcohol. You grab your arm and rip it off, your skin ripping off a part of your shoulder leaving you without your other arm, his eyes widens and he looks in shocked but interested, the blood dripping made him more hungry. You hand him your arm as your arm slowly regenerates back.

"what the- huh?.."

"eat it." you say with a straight forward tone, dazai looked at the arm and he sees the dripping blood and meat, thats where he lost self control and took it from your hands and ate. He ate hungrily like a starved animal, he felt guilty but he was starved. And how an angel you were offering him food? But as he ate, he thinks, how did you know he was a cannibal? He thought it must be a trap but he couldn't stop chewing. He ate the meat off and so far, nothing happened. By the time he looked up at you with blood on his mouth and hands, your arm has already regenerated. He was on his knees as he looked up at you, the moon shined upon the both of you and he lick his lips, slowly backing away. "why.. Why would you do this?.." he asks, wary of you.

"you were starving, correct? Can't i feed you?" you ask, making a good point but to him everything was too good to be true. He didn't know your true intentions but you knew that all you wanted was for him to be yours.

♱ ˚₊‧⁺⋆✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹✮˚₊‧⁺⋆♱

The next day, he woke up in a cold sweat. He doesn't remember anything about going home or even going to bed, but all he sees is that his coat is neatly folded on the corner of his bed and he feels something aching in his head, hes got a hangover, but as he recollects his memories he remembers your face and the meal he had gotten from you, he thought about your appearance and it sinks in him, the soft smiles you gave him and how interesting your character was weird to him, the way you asked him questions was like you knew his whole character. He wanted to see you again. He was completely drawn to you, after all he is just a man that is not just hungry for human flesh but also knowledge.

He then remembers about his work and he gets ready, during the whole day of work he couldn't stop thinking about you and how interesting you were. It reminded him of anomalies.. And how your mannerism was different, but he was drunk so he couldn't picture everything well.

After work he decides to visit the foggy graveyard near the gloomy moonlit forest, he prayed that he sees you again but nothing. He looked for you but nothing. You were like just a figment of his imagination, a phantom of sorrows.

This went on and on and on until one night, he visits the place where you and him met, he sees you leaning against a tree, humming something.. Like some sort of old song, he looks at you and he wanted to talk to you again, he hasn't eaten since the last time you offered your arm to him so he walks up to you and initiates a conversation.

Quickly the both of you found comfort in eachothers melancholy, talking about various aspects of life and topics. Slowly but surely you and him got fond of eachother, you fed him and he kept you company. But as more as he ate, the more he craved for something more of you. You offered him your legs, arms, and fingers out of love and he still couldn't get enough.

⋆｡‧₊°♱ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ♱ ༉‧₊˚.

You and him spent the night together in the forest in a field of flowers, crows surrounded the both of you, they flew above in a circular motion as the moon shined upon the both of you. Fog surround the area and his head was resting on your lap, you pet him and he looks at you in admiration. He felt guilty for doing this, he felt like he didn't deserve this but then again he was like a dandelion. Dandelions were never given love since they were just weeds.. Therefore they fall apart at the slightest touch.

He knew he never asked why you were doing this but he wanted to keep this lingering feeling of affection for now. You stared from afar but he stared at you. He smiles softly and raises his hand to caress your neck, outlining the veins of your neck to your collarbones. Oh, what a beautiful sight.

He was completely obsessed. This obsession wasn't something he has ever felt. He tried to deny it but he couldn't. He doesn't even know your origins. He doesn't know why you only come out at night. And he doesn't know why you care.

You look down on him and with a small smile and he looked back at you with a neutral but interested look, he slowly sits up and he wraps an arm around your waist, most days you and him spent it quietly. Both of you gave each other what you guys yearned for, an obsessive cannibalistic romance. He wanted to taste your everything and you wanted to touch his inner soul.

All you had was just a physical body that yearns for exterior touch and he has a body that yearns for interior touch.

He rest his head on your chest and you pat his head, he felt strange comfort. Even though the night was silent, he wanted you more than anything and so did you..it was to the point that he swore he'd be yours and you'd be his.

He looked over your body and he sees the plump color of your skin, he didn't just want a taste of your arm or leg. He wanted your insides. You look down at him and notice his behavior, has he not eaten?

"have you eaten yet?" you ask, caressing his cheek with an eerie aura that felt comforting but disturbing at the same time..that was ome of the things that made him attracted to you.

"... No."

You then lunged your hand into your stomach and you pull out your intestine. Blood spilled all over your dress, he was worried but since you were the one doing it, you'll be fine.. Right?

As you pull your pale scarlet intestines out, you were already regenerating. You hand him the intestines and he hesitantly feeds. This is how it has always been. It was mutual connections, he brought You his bullets, You brought him your LOVE.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

His mouth was bloody and his hands were tainted with the scarlet liquid, the feeling of you Going down his throat felt like heaven, being with you felt like ecstasy, he felt comforted more than disturbed. He just wanted to cry into your chest but the way you look at him felt like judgement day.

You caress his cheek and you pull him into a kiss which he quickly returned, his kiss was a mix of obsession, love, and hunger. He kissed you guiltily. He lets out small soft quiet moans and his scarlet stained hands caressed your cheek to your neck, leaving a handprint of your blood.

Words didn't matter to the both of you since the both of you could read eachothers mind like it was a library. Each touch, gaze, drop of blood meant everything.

He pulls away and leans and looks at you, the wind catching up and the flowers danced along as crows cawked and you and him exchange glances of obsessive affection.

The more you and him touched eachother felt like a cigarette slowly turning your lungs into ash, he kisses you and he holds your waist, roaming his hands all over you, small moans and gasps for air was everywhere as he kisses you which you gladly accepted.

He bites your lip and slowly he felt more hungry, he kisses your neck to your chest, looking at you with admiration. He pulls away and holds you tightly before asking about something.

"how come you've never given me your heart to try?"

You didn't wanna tell him the truth, because the truth is, the only way you were regenerating was because of your heart. If your heart was gone. You will immediately die.

"hm..i just.. Haven't thought of offering it yet."

He nods but he felt more hungry, he looks down at the still regenerating wound at your stomach and he just wanted to have a little taste of something.

He stopped himself but as every touch and compliments are given, he was slowly getting desperate. He wanted more of you. The undecaying love that the both of you had was real. He felt real. He felt cared. But he wanted more. Something to fill the gaping hole im his heart, before stopping himself he already lunges a hand inside the wound and he grabs your heart out. Your eyes widens and rolls back, your spirt leaving your vessel (physical body.)

He looks down and he realizes what he has done, he shakes and his eyes were wide. He felt nothing again. Numb. He did the last thing he wanted to do to you and that was to hurt you. He knew there was something wrong with him. He would never forgive himself.

He stares down at your body and a tear fell down his cheek as he holds your still beating heart, his eyes were blank but a tear ran down his cheek

Your spirit looks at him but he does not see.. you didn’t know what to feel about the situation.. But you knew that your soul was finally free, your spirit slowly dissapears as you grin.

He looks at your heart and his hands were shaking, slowly bringing it closer to his face with a guilty feeling.

But you know how the saying goes..Starving people will eat everything and anything since their desperation is greater than their self control.

© All works by @Verlaineszz Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.

Thanks for making it to the end! :D i wanted to make a fyolai version of this but unfortunately I'm very sluggisg today..

(－‸ ლ)

Hope you enjoyed it though <3!

||TAGS:

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 13 - Summer: Nighttime Perils

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: A terrible incident occurs during preparations for your first meeting with Furina as Neuvillette’s wife.

Warnings: Assault, injury, drunk people Note: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette in Domus Aurea

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“I’ve got nothing to wear…”   

Uttering that complaint for what felt like the thousandth time, you flopped down onto your bed, which looked as though your closet had exploded all over it. Not for the first time, you lamented the excess of practical, modest, and exceedingly plain clothing in your wardrobe.  

It was said that the clothes one wore reflected the soul. In that case, your soul was fully on display to an embarrassing extent.   

You pictured you and Neuvillette standing next to each other. Though his outfits didn’t vary much in color or style, they were always elegant and well put together, befitting his status and position. Meanwhile, with your sensible sweaters and plain knee-length skirts, looked more like the Chief Justice’s secretary than his wife. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, and in fact, it would be preferrable due to the secretive nature of your marriage. But this particular occasion wasn’t normal.  

Furina had agreed to the meeting. By Neuvillette’s account, she was most enthusiastic about it. It would be taking place in three days and held in his office.   

The bravado you had felt before in his cozy study, as you brushed his long, silky hair, had all but dissipated by now. Instead, you were left with a growing anxiety and doubt that gnawed at your mind.  

The chief of them being, Will this go smoothly without any incident?  

It was true that your great-grandparents had personally met with Furina (it had become somewhat of a point of pride), but this was very different from a mere appointment to ask for a favor from the Archon. In your case, you were going to present yourself to her as the wife of Chief Justice.   

You were well aware that this whole meeting was a chance for Furina to probe at your marriage and more specifically, you.   

Anything strange, out of the ordinary, or unusual would be pounced upon by the drama-loving Archon. Therefore, you had to maintain a perfect, unassailable front. You had to present yourself as someone who looked like she could be Neuvillette’s spouse. That started with appearance. Unfortunately, that was the biggest hurdle you were facing right now.  

You never had a problem with your wardrobe until now. Sure, your clothes weren’t the trendiest or most luxurious, but they were durable and comfortable, and you took pride in the fact that you took good care of them, mending tears and ironing out wrinkles regularly. You considered wearing the black semi-formal dress you wore for interviews at the Palais Mermonia for the governess license qualification process, but it seemed too plain and austere for the occasion.  

As the first person in your family to meet with the Hydro Archon in generations, and as Neuvillette’s wife, you needed to make a good impression.  

“Well, your tastes certainly lean more towards the practical, Madame,” Marie said. She was sitting on a chair and carefully looking through your clothes. You had asked her to come to your room as a second opinion. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to go shopping for clothes that are more befitting of your current status.”  

“A status that I will lose at the year’s end,” you reminded her, but you didn’t disagree with her suggestion. As someone who was raised by frugal parents, you were more prone to saving up your Mora and only spending when it was necessary. That was what you did with the allowance that Neuvillette gave you, but…perhaps the time had finally come to use it. After all, one could make the argument that nice clothes were essential in situations where you had to make a good impression, and let’s face it, Neuvillette wasn’t exactly hard up for money…  

The fashionable but expensive clothes that you could only admire from afar until now came to mind. Now, you had the means to obtain them for yourself. You felt little bubbles of excitement in your stomach at the thought.   

“I suppose I’ll be hitting up the shopping district tomorrow,” you said, sitting up. “It’s long overdue, anyways.”  

“Indeed, Madame,” Marie looked very excited for some reason. “Honestly, Monsieur Neuvillette should have taken you out shopping a long time ago.”   

“He’s always busy, so it can’t really be helped. He already gave me plenty of money to spend anyway, so I can just shop on my own. Besides, does he even enjoy doing things like shopping?”  

“Mm-hmm,” Marie sounded like she wanted to say something, but held her tongue. “In any case, he is in for a wonderful surprise to see you all dressed up.”  

“I’m not doing it for him ,” you protested, even as you had to admit that you were curious to see Neuvillette’s reaction to you in clothes that you didn’t normally wear. What would he say? What expression would he make? Would he like them?   

You hoped he would. No, you wanted him to.   

“Perhaps you could model your outfit for him when he comes home tonight,” Marie carried on, seemingly not hearing what you just said.

“That’s a good idea,” you said. The idea hadn’t occurred to you. And while you were at it, you should have a discussion with him about what you were going to say to Furina. You had to come up with a good story to tell.  

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you told Marie as you folded up your clothes to put them back in your closet. “You’re always so full of good advice.”  

“If only my own children thought the same way as you, Madame,” she laughed.  

s you stared in bewilderment at the row of high-end boutiques stretching out before you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were in way over your head.  

The low, colorful buildings sparkling in the sun reminded you of jewelry boxes that looked too expensive to touch, lest you leave a smudge on them. The impeccably dressed and coiffed shop clerks standing in front of their doors smiled invitingly and greeted passersby, but their eyes reminded you of the mothers working tirelessly at every ball you had attended—sizing up everyone who walked by and trying to sniff out the ones whose wallets were in need of a little lightening.   

But what intimidated you the most was the sheer variety of shops. You were surrounded on every side by fashionable clothing in a multitude of colors, sizes, and styles. Every time you saw something you liked, another caught your eye that you liked even more. This particular district was very different from the usual, more limited selection of stores that you usually visited. Now that you had the money to spend, you were quickly learning that having more choice wasn’t necessarily more convenient.  

It would be so much easier if I had my sister with me, or my friends, you thought wistfully , but quickly put it out of your mind. They would no doubt pepper you with questions you had no idea how to answer. You still weren’t sure what you were going to say to Furina yet.  

Just as you were standing there, uncertain as to what to do, you heard a familiar high-pitched voice calling out to you. “Madame! I didn’t know you were going shopping today!”  

You turned and saw a group of Melusines and, for some reason, Clorinde, walking towards you. These Melusines all worked for the Marechausee Phantom, but they were in civilian clothing instead of their uniforms. Perhaps this was their day off.  

“Oh, hello, everyone,” you greeted them. “Something came up suddenly, so I needed to do some clothes shopping right away.”  

“Something came up suddenly?” The Melusine who called out to you—Rhemia was her name—repeated. Her expression then changed, and she grinned, as though a realization hit her. “Oh, I get it! It certainly is a very urgent matter, then.”  

The other Melusines seemed to have also caught on to whatever it was, as they all giggled. You had a bad feeling that they were under some kind of mistaken assumption, but as Clorinde was here, you couldn’t correct them. “Can we join you, then? We’re also about to go shopping for clothes.”  

“Sure, that would be lovely,” you said. It was good to have company, even if you weren’t sure if the Melusines, with their unique perception of color and style, would be very helpful.   

Your gaze shifted to Clorinde, who had been standing silently behind the Melusines until now. Her face showed no hint of what she was thinking. It was as though this was the first time you had met each other.  

“Hello, Miss Clorinde,” you greeted her, not wanting to make things awkward. “Are you out shopping as well?”  

She shook her head. “The girls asked me to come along, and as I had some free time, I agreed.” She paused, then added, “I did not know you were married, Madame [Name].”  

“Just [Name] is fine,” you quickly said. “Or Madame, like everyone else does.”  

Clorinde had seen you walking with Neuvillette in the early morning, and now she learned that you were married. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots.  

Fortunately, she didn’t question you any further, nor show much emotion to the revelation. Neuvillette said that she wasn’t the type to gossip, so you supposed there wasn’t anything to worry about for now.  

“Come on, Madame,” Rhemia was tugging on your hand, pulling you towards the nearest shop. “There’s no time to waste!”  

The sun shined brightly down upon your little group, heralding the start of a long day.  

There is a certain danger in shopping with others, you thought as you trudged back home, hands laden with shopping bags.   

You had assumed that you were just going to buy a few new outfits. But somehow, you ended up buying a whole new wardrobe, plus more things that you weren’t even sure you needed, like accessories, makeup, and even perfume.  

Despite that, you felt a sense of tired contentment, the kind that came after a long day of satisfying work and ample rewards. It had been a very long time since you enjoyed a day out with a group of friends. It was also a nice feeling, being able to spend money on whatever you wanted without worrying about the price or whether you actually needed it. You now understood why the ladies of the upper class frequented the shops every day. What a frightening slippery slope.   

You were certainly feeling the effects of it right now—it felt like your arms were about to fall off. Come to think of it, I do wonder if these clothes would all fit in my suitcase when the time comes to leave. Perhaps I should get another one…  

Clorinde, who seemed stoic and aloof at first, was surprisingly easygoing, if not very talkative, as you had discovered during the course of the day. She knew the best shops and had plenty of good advice on what to pick and wear.  

She had offered to help you carry your bags home, but you declined. You weren’t sure how much she knew about your relationship with Neuvillette, but it was better not to assume anything.   

“I could go and fetch Monsieur Neuvillette instead,” she said.   

You were aghast. “I couldn’t ask him to drop his work for such a trivial matter,” you protested.  

“I don’t believe he would see it that way,” Clorinde said. “Besides, he’ll be off work soon.”  

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Neuvillette to come all the way here just to help you carry your bags. He would have to make a detour on his usual route home from the Palais. He should have a leisurely rest at home after a long day at work.  

There was another, sillier, reason behind your decision—you wanted to surprise him.  

You couldn’t help but picture his reaction to the clothes you and the others picked out. Would he like them? Secretly, you hoped he would. You wondered what he would say. You wondered how he would look at you.  

The thought of being looked at by him, for whatever reason, sent a shiver down your spine. All your life, you had become accustomed to being overlooked, to being invisible. It wasn’t a bad feeling at all. While others had the spotlight cast upon them, you were happy to remain in the shadows, free to do whatever you wanted. True, it bothered you sometimes that you might be a ghost in the lives of others, only remembered as a presence in the background, but surely the benefits outweighed the negatives, right?  

But Neuvillette was different. He was always looking directly at you. When you were with him, you felt more…solid. Like you mattered. Like you had some importance in his life—to him. It was wishful thinking that you shouldn’t entertain, but from time to time, you succumbed to it.  

After you parted ways with everyone, you slowly walked back home. You weren’t very familiar with this area, but as it was still daylight out and there were plenty of people walking around, you weren’t worried.   

Then, suddenly, you spotted a used bookshop tucked between a flower shop and a jewelry store. Your eyes would have skipped over it if you hadn’t seen the store sign.  

You eagerly made your way inside and was greeted with the invigorating scent of old books. After saying hello to the owner, you disappeared between the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Mysteries, romances, fantasy…they called to you with their siren songs, but you didn’t stop until you reached the one section you were looking for—the history section.  

You let out an embarrassing squeal once you reached the shelf. Luckily, there was no one around to hear you.    

The shelf was filled with everything from glossy textbooks to jacketless tomes that went out of print decades ago. Not even the library had some of these books. And they were all at reasonable prices, too… Oh, but I’m already carrying so many things. I can’t possibly buy these heavy books as well. But what if someone buys them before me?   

There was a comfy-looking couch nearby that was beckoning you to curl up on it with a book. Well, just one read wouldn’t hurt, right?  

You picked a book at random. This one was titled Boethius: Harmost and Villain. It was right up your alley, and it wasn’t too thick. You could probably finish this one in an hour. You sat down on the couch and immersed yourself in its world.  

“Miss, we’re closing soon.”  

A voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to the store owner.  

“Huh…?” you blink up at her, feeling as though you had just emerged from underwater. “O-Oh! I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time…”  

You hurriedly got up and reshelved the stack of books next to you. Feeling bad that you didn’t end up purchasing anything, you inwardly promised to come back here tomorrow.   

As you made your way to the door, you stopped in shock. It was completely dark outside. How long had you been reading?  

Ugh, this always happens. Once you got absorbed in a book, hours could pass in the blink of an eye.  

“Be careful out there, Miss,” the owner told you, and you nodded, bidding her good night.   

The sun had mostly set, the stores around you were all closed, and there were few pedestrians on the streets.  

Luckily, you could still see the Palais Mermonia soaring high above the city. If you headed towards it, you would surely be able to find your way back home. With that in mind, you walked on ahead quickly.  

I should have asked the bookshop owner for directions, you thought as you turned down a narrow lane, but you weren’t sure if you could find your way back. The streetlights were coming on, but the harsh, dark shadows they cast made you speed up a little bit more. I could ask it to stop near Neuvillette’s neighborhood and walk the rest of the way back…  

However, you saw no carriages around. In fact, there was no one around at all. Oh Archons, I made a huge mistake!  

Even back in your sleepy little hometown, your parents always cautioned you to never stay out late. You heeded their advice in the Court of Fontaine as well, very conscious of the fact that it wasn’t rare for young ladies like you to get kidnapped off the streets. And yet, here you were, ripe for the picking with your arms laden with shopping bags.  

I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot, I’m an idiot… you berated yourself in your head as you quickened your footsteps, your heart racing. Your earlier refusal of Clorinde’s offer to accompany you home now seemed to you a stupid, short-sighted decision.   

I’ll just stay close to the streetlights for now, you decided. You fixed your gaze on the Palais and tried to focus on reaching it. Deep, calming breaths, [Name]…almost there…  

However, every time it seemed that you were on the verge of reaching it, a sudden turn or twist in the road would divert you further away from it. Eventually, you had to admit that you were hopelessly lost.  

What’s worse, this particular area you found yourself in had a shady air to it that raised the hairs on the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if this was one of the less savory parts of town you had always been warned about, but it sure felt like it. The darkened windows of the buildings felt like eyes staring down at you. Maybe you were being watched. No, don’t be paranoid, you told yourself, but to no avail.   

In any case, I have to get out of here.   

But just then, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead of you, heading in your direction. Your steps faltered slightly when you saw that it was a burly man dressed in a surprisingly fine business suit. He was swaying from side to side and muttering to himself. A drunk?  

Instinctively, you tightened your grip on your bags and stuck close to the shadows. Perhaps he would be too drunk to notice you.  

Unluckily, just as you were about to pass him, he called out to you in a slurred, hoarse voice.  

“Lovely evening, eh, Miss?”  

Even from here, you could smell the stink of alcohol on his breath. His eyes were glazed over, and he was teetering on his feet. He must be terribly drunk.  

“...Mm,” you said, giving him a brief nod and not looking him in the eye. You tried to sidle past him, but he grabbed your upper arm. His fingers were thick and sweaty, his grip firm. Goosebumps rose on your body.  

“Where ya going in such a hurry, huh? Why dontcha join me for a drink?”   

You tried to shake him off, but he didn’t budge. In fact, his hold on your arm only tightened. That’s going to leave a bruise in the morning, your thought distantly.  

“Hey, why aren’t ya talking? You a mute or something?”  

You pursed your lips and gave him the nastiest glare you could manage, even as you felt your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. Reasoning with a drunk, especially an aggressive one like him, was futile. You should scream for help. The other end of the alley was not that far away. Maybe a patrolling Garde would hear you.   

You took a deep breath and was about to let out a scream, but barely a squeak left your mouth before the man’s meaty hand clamped over your mouth. For a drunk, his reflexes were fast.  

The man turned your head to look at him. His face was redder than before. It was from anger. “Not a mute after all, eh? Whatcha going around screaming for? I just wanted to have a nice little chat with ya. Why don’t we go back to my place and get t’know each other better?”  

Oh no, he’s going to drag me away somewhere! It all felt so unreal, like it was happening to someone else. Fear gripped your heart, and you did the only thing you could do in the situation—you bit down on his palm so hard that you drew blood.  

“Fuck!” the man shouted in pain and let out a string of curses. His grip loosened, allowing you to shake him off and run as fast as you could to the end of the alley, which suddenly seemed a whole other world away. You pumped your already-tired legs, pushing them to their limit, but the heavy bags in your hands slowed you down. You should throw them away, but sweat glued their straps to your palms and there was no time to stop and pull them off.   

You heard the man shouting curses and his heavy footsteps as he chased after you. He was catching up to you quickly.  

Fate must enjoy playing cruel jokes on you, for rain began to pour down heavily at that very moment.  

It got into your eyes and soaked into your clothes. The stone-paved road suddenly became hazardous. Every time your feet almost slipped on the wet stones, panic threatened to overwhelm you.   

After what seemed like a lifetime, you reached the end of the alley—only to be met with a crossroads. Which path to take? With your blurred vision, you couldn’t see the Palais Mermonia or anything at all.   

You dared to look back, and your heart nearly stopped. The man was right on your heels, his face a hideous twisted mask of rage. He lunged at you, and you managed to dodge in time. He fell forward, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. You were about to run away, but your feet twisted under you. You tripped.  

Oh, I think I twisted my ankle... Pain blossomed in your right ankle, your knee, and your palms. You tried to pull yourself up, but the man’s large hand clamped around your hurt ankle, holding you in place. His grip tightened, and you could practically hear your bones grind against each other. You gasped as white-hot pain lanced up your leg. He’s going to break it...!  

“You little bitch...you’ll pay for that!” the man growled. He was trying to drag you towards him, and you scrabbled desperately at the ground for something to hold onto, but it was no use. “Who d’you think you are, biting me ?”  

“Heard there’s some guy lookin’ to buy girls. I think I’ll sell ya to him. It’ll serve you right!” the man continued to rant and rave. He didn’t seem to feel the rain at all. There was a strange light in his eyes. Was he really drunk on alcohol? You had no idea. All you wanted to do was get away.  

“My husband knows I’m gone! He’ll come looking for me!” you shouted, but even you knew it was an empty threat. There was no way Neuvillette would know where you were right now, right?  

The rain... The image of Neuvillette standing in the rain came to mind. There was a connection between him and rain. You didn’t know what it was, but it definitely existed.   

It was an absurd, baseless idea, but you were out of options. “Neuvillette!” you screamed. “Neuvi--ah!”  

Your ankle was squeezed even harder. He really was going to snap it in two at this rate. How can anyone be so strong?  

“Shut the fuck up! Ain't no one here to help you now, not even—” he suddenly let out a scream of agony. His grip on your ankle slackened.  

You stared at the sight in front of you, feeling as though your brain skipped a few seconds ahead in time.  

Just a moment before, it was only the two of you in this alley...until it wasn’t.   

There was a heel grinding into the hand grabbing your ankle. You knew even before looking up who it belonged to.  

Neuvillette was standing above the two of you, his cane in hand. There was a wavering blue light behind him. His face was an emotionless mask, but his eyes seemed to be glowing, figuratively and literally. They were filled with a cold hatred—no, something even more primal and basic than that. It was as though he was looking down at a worm, something far beneath him.  

For the first time since you knew him, you thought he seemed completely inhuman.  

The man was whimpering in pain. He tried to heave himself up, but couldn’t. He turned to look at who was stepping on his hand and gasped. “M-Monsieur Neuvillette? W-What...how...”  

“You are under arrest, Mr. Moreau, for assault,” Neuvillette’s voice was low and deep, carrying well even in the cacophony in the rain. Like his expression, it was void of emotion, but you thought you could hear something else behind it, like a shadow lurking in the depths of the sea. “The Gardes will be here shortly. I suggest you prepare yourself.”  

The man seemed too overwhelmed to speak. All he could do was stare up at Neuvillette blankly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You weren’t any better yourself.  

Seeming to no longer deem the man a threat, Neuvillette immediately turned to you. The terrible look from before was gone, replaced with naked worry and relief. “Madame!” he helped you sit up, then quickly took off his coat and wrapped it around you. “Can you walk?”  

You simply stared at him, unable to speak. In the distance, you heard shouts and footsteps running over here. It was probably the Gardes.  

His question registered a few seconds later, and you shook your head. Your ankle felt as though it was on fire. You didn’t want to look at it.   

Neuvillette studied your ankle, his brow creased with worry. His fingers brushed against the skin, and you let out a yelp. “My apologies,” he said quickly, pain flashing across his features. “I shall take you to the infirmary right away.”  

The Gardes had arrived by then and became busy with arresting the man—Moreau. Neuvillette spoke a few words to them, then turned back to you. “I shall be carrying you in my arms now,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ll ask a Garde to bring your bags to the infirmary.” He hooked an arm under your knees and circled the other around your waist, lifting you and holding you close to his chest. He seemed uncaring of the fact there were others around. None of them were looking your way, though.  

“Madame, you’re safe now,” he murmured. He sounded like the Neuvillette you had always known. That, along with the gentle warmth and crisp cologne that suffused his coat wrapped around you, finally thawed your frozen emotions.  

“Neuvillette...I was so scared!” Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, and you buried your face in his wet shirt, sobbing into his chest. “If you hadn’t shown up, he would have...!  

“There is no need to say anything more,” he whispered. He was now walking away from the scene. “I am with you now. No one can harm you any longer. The emergency room is not too far away. A carriage will bring us there.”  

His hand combed through the strands of your wet hair. The motions were awkward, but they brought you a comfort sweeter than anything you had known.  

Maybe it was just your imagination, but the rain seemed to abate with every stroke of his hands.  

At the emergency room, a nurse examined your ankle and declared that while it was badly sprained, it was not broken. An ice pack and bandages were applied to it, with instructions to rest in bed the next day and to change the ice pack every few hours. Your knee and upper arm were bruised, and your palms were scraped, but other than that, you weren’t seriously injured.   

The nurse also helped you change into dry clothes. Miraculously, your newly-brought clothes were mostly unscathed from the rain, so you chose a sweater and pants. She also offered you a hot cup of coffee, which you gratefully accepted.   

Not long after that, a Garde came to question you about the incident and record the injuries you sustained. It mercifully didn’t take very long.  

“Would I have to testify in court?” you asked Neuvillette nervously after the two of you were finally left alone. He had been with you through all of this, silently sitting at your bedside and rarely leaving it. You couldn’t help but wonder what other people thought of this, but mostly you were just glad for his steady presence.  

“It may not come to that,” Neuvillette said slowly, which was not reassuring to hear. “You have given your statement, and there is enough evidence for a prompt conviction without requiring victim testimony. And with the past history of the accused...”  

He trailed off, a shadow passing over his face. “You knew that man—Moreau,” you said.  

“Yes. Mr. Moreau is a wealthy businessman with many high-ranking friends in government. I have met him at several functions, and, well...you will have to excuse me for refraining from speaking of his character due to my involvement in this case. It has long been suspected that he has been engaging in various underhanded dealings, but no concrete evidence has ever been found. But to think that he would even stoop to human trafficking...it’s simply unconscionable.”  

You wondered why a man like that would be walking around the streets drunk and attacking people. If he was so good at concealing his crimes, surely he wouldn’t do something so stupid and brazen that would get him arrested. You recalled his hideous mask of a face and the eerie light in his eyes and shivered. Neuvillette, seeing this, reached out and took your hand in his, squeezing it. You could feel his wedding ring pressing into your fingers through his glove.  

“There is no need for us to dwell on this any longer,” he murmured, rubbing circles in the back of your hand with his thumb. “Focus on recovery. If there is anything that is required of you, you will be given ample notice beforehand.”  

You stared into his eyes. You would never admit this to anyone, but you enjoyed looking at them. They were the most expressive part of his face—which wasn’t saying very much—and you thought you had become rather good at grasping the emotions flickering behind them, like trying to catch a slippery fish in a pond. Right now, you would say that there was a mix of lingering panic and an earnest desire to make you feel better.  

“Thank you,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes again. Neuvillette took out another handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to you. You dabbed your eyes.   

“I only wish that I had gotten there sooner,” he said, and you could feel the regret and anger at himself rolling off him like waves. “So that I could spare you from having to go through something so traumatic.”  

“Don’t blame yourself. It was all my fault. If only I hadn’t gotten distracted by books and lost track of time, if only I had familiarized myself with the roads more, none of this would have happened. I made you worry about me. It’s what I deserve.” You had recounted everything that happened to him while riding in the carriage. He must think I’m an idiot who can’t even take care of herself, you looked down in shame.   

“Madame, please look at me,” Gentle fingers tilted your chin up, his lavender eyes transfixing you. “None of this is your fault, not a single bit of it. A bit of absentmindedness does not deserve punishment. The only party in the wrong here has been taken into custody and will receive a fitting sentence for his crimes.”  

“...Mm,” you managed to nod. His face was very close to yours. From this distance, you could see every single one of his long eyelashes in stark detail. For some reason, your heart started beating faster again.  

“So...how did you find me?” you moved away from him a little, though you left your hand in his. “I did tell Marie that I was going to the shopping district, but I don’t think I was anywhere near there by the time you found me.”  

“Marie told me where you went when I returned home in the early evening. When you didn’t return home by dinner time, we became worried, so I went out in search of you and asked the Gardes to assist. Then, I heard you screaming my name and followed it.”  

“Hmm...I see,” it felt like he cut out some important details out of that explanation, but he was clearly not about to divulge his secrets. “The sudden heavy rain must have made it quite difficult,” you said, glancing at him.  

“For the others, perhaps. But it was hardly a hurdle for me.”  

A short silence followed. You wanted to push him for answers a little more, but sensed his discomfort and decided to drop it.  

“You know, we’ve known each other for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve seen you with your cane up close,” you said. “Actually, this was the very first time I’ve seen you so angry. I hope it's never directed at me.”   

The memory of Neuvillette’s look of fury flashed through your mind again. That blue light you saw behind him must have been his glowing horns. It reminded you that he was, in actuality, an unfathomably powerful being.  He could have done much worse to Moreau than merely stepping on his hand.   

“My apologies. Did I scare you?” a small furrow appeared between Neuvillette’s brows, the corners of his lips turning downwards slightly. It was such a contrast from that previous expression that you almost felt like laughing. “I am often unaware as to how my face might appear to others. It is something I try to work on outside of court. Although, I must admit, I was not thinking very amicable thoughts at the time. It might have shown on my face.”  

You mulled his question over. Were you scared of him back then? To be quite honest, your mind was already preoccupied with fear by the time he arrived—there simply wasn’t enough room for more. Yes, you certainly had been shocked at first, but…  

Even if his eyes and horns (that was his horns, wasn’t it?) were glowing, it was still Neuvillette.  

“You should have been even more terrifying,” you told him sincerely. “If you ever do something like this again, you should show up riding on the back of a vishap.”  

He stared at you in bafflement for a few seconds, then turned his head away, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.  

Mentally and physically exhausted by last night’s events, you slept like a log until noon. When you woke up, you were greeted with a platter of all your favorite dishes.  

With the new day and the cozy familiarity of your room, the events of last night seemed like they happened a lifetime ago. The fear had mostly subsided, leaving mortification and regret in its wake, especially as everyone was acting so considerate towards you. Looking back, you had no idea what you were thinking, and you realized once again just how lucky you had been.   

Your ankle’s swelling had gone down considerably the next day, but it still hurt whenever you put even the slightest bit of pressure on it, so you spent most of the day in bed, reading books, drawing, or staring out the window at the gray sky. You weren’t without company, though, as Marie sat with you in your room often, changing the ice pack and helping you put away your newly bought clothes in your closet. She had been horrified when you came home last night in Neuvillette’s arms. “How awful, Madame!” she had lamented as she helped you get to your room and change into your nightgown. “Thank the Archons that Monsieur Neuvillette arrived on time!”  

Marie wasn’t the only visitor to your room. The Melusines, including those who hadn’t gone shopping with you, also came to see you throughout the day. You supposed that Neuvillette told them about you, for they all brought you cakes and other desserts as get-well presents (you also suspected that they also reported back to Neuvillette about your condition, for when you mentioned to one Melusine how you would like to drink some Fonta, your wish was granted by the next Melusine who visited. However, she also heartily recommended that you drink water from Snezhnaya instead, which held a coolness that was good against swelling, and if you wanted, you could ask Marie to fetch a bottle of it for you from Monsieur Neuvillette’s personal stash. She also added that you need not hesitate to ask, as he had more than one bottle. Perhaps all Melusines shared his specific tastes in water, but you didn’t quite believe that was the case).  

Rhemia and the other Melusines who had been with you yesterday had been the most distressed upon seeing you bedridden. “I’ll stick to you like glue from now on, Madame! No criminal will escape my sights!” Rhemia had declared, and her sisters nodded vigorously in agreement.  

“There really is no need for that,” you tried to decline her offer. Privately, you thought that there wasn’t much a Melusine could do against a man of Moreau’s size anyways. “The whole incident only happened because I was careless and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll be much more careful next time, so I doubt it will happen again. Just because I’m Neuvillette’s wife, it doesn’t mean that I deserve special treatment or anything of the sort. And if he put you up to this, then—”  

Rhemia blinked at you in confusion. “But this has nothing to do with Monsieur Neuvillette. Not entirely, anyways.”  

“It doesn’t?” Now you were confused.  

“Nope! I’d do this for all the people important to me! Oh, but I guess you’re more than that, since you’re married to Monsieur Neuvillette! That would make you our mother, I suppose.”  

“Um…” There was the m-word again. You considered correcting Rhemia, but she continued, seemingly not noticing your discomfort.  

“You’re always so kind and patient with us, just like Monsieur Neuvillette. You greet us whenever you see us, and you always ask us about our days and listen to our troubles. Oh, and Madame, you’re such a good teacher too! I’ve gotten so much better at drawing humans thanks to your lessons!” Rhemia turned to her friends. “Am I right?”  

Her friends nodded enthusiastically. They began recounting all the times you’ve spent with them.   

“I’m glad to hear that you all think of me as your friend,” you said after they finished, a little embarrassed but also pleased. You hadn’t expected them to remember so much about you. But you felt a little guilty as well. At first, you decided to become friendly with the Melusines because everyone knew that Neuvillette treasured them greatly and you wanted to be in his good graces so that he wouldn’t have any reason to kick you out. They had always been the ones to come up to you first, especially in the first few weeks after your marriage, and while you didn’t consider yourself to be a particularly friendly and warm person, even you weren’t heartless enough to be cold to such a cheerful race of creatures.   

“It’s not just us! I’m sure all the Melusines in the Court of Fontaine feel the same way. You’re just as important to us as Monsieur Neuvillette.”  

“Oh…” Looking at their bright, earnest faces, you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes suddenly became misty. Before this marriage, you hadn’t given much mind to Melusines. They were just the public servants you would occasionally pass by on the street. But now that you were connected to them through Neuvillette, you were belatedly learning just how wonderful they were.  

“Thank you,” you said at last, patting each of them on the head. Your hand still stung a little from last night, but you ignored it. “It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Truly. Still, you don’t need to follow me around. If I ever need help, I promise that I will come straight to you. And…I hope that you will all come to the sunflower viewing party we’re holding here next month.”  

“Of course, Madame! We wouldn’t miss it for anything!” the Melusines chirped in unison.  

By evening, the deluge of visitors had finally ended. You sank into your pillows, feeling exhausted. You weren’t used to having so many people fuss over you. It was unfamiliar territory, one that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate.   

Still, as you gazed at the teetering pile of confectionary boxes covered in Melusine stickers on your bedside table and remembered all the get-well wishes you received, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. How did I get so lucky? You wondered. Perhaps even after I leave Neuvillette, we can still be friends…  

As you were lost in your thoughts, Marie came into your room again.   

“Oh, Madame, I completely forgot to give you this because of everything that happened yesterday. It appears to be from your family.”  

Marie handed you an envelope made of thick, creamy paper. You recognized the stationery as the kind used by your father for formal correspondences, and the address written in familiar, flowery cursive on the front was indeed that of your family’s house.  

“Ah, that would be from my sister,” you said, tearing the envelope open and taking out the contents. The envelope contained two cards made of similarly thick paper. They both had an elaborately drawn border of Lumidouce Bells and Rainbow Roses and had an invitation written in the center. This was new.  

You are cordially invited   

To a celebration  

Honoring  

Justine’s nineteenth birthday  

Semi-formal attire requested (Floral themed outfits are preferred)  

P.S. Sister, please tell me if Monsieur Neuvillette has any allergies or requires any accommodations!  

“Oh no…” you groaned, putting your palm over your face. “I still haven’t gotten her a present yet!”  

You had planned to get something for her yesterday after you finished shopping for yourself, but meeting up with Rhemia and the others caused it to completely slip your mind.  

While we’re on this topic, shouldn’t she have sent the invitations much earlier if she wanted people to RSVP? It’s just like her to do things last minute! And why is she acting like it’s already decided that Neuvillette’s coming?  

“Marie, could you please fetch me my pen and paper?” you asked the housekeeper. After you received them, you began to write a reply to tell Justine that while you were coming, Neuvillette definitely wasn’t. But just as you got to that last part, you paused. The idea of the Chief Justice attending a teenage girl’s birthday party all the way out in the countryside was absurd, of course. You tried to picture him sitting at your family’s worn dining table, singing “Happy Birthday” eating the butterscotch cake your housekeeper always made for birthdays, all the while fending off the barrage of questions from your family and friends. I can’t imagine it! It’s just too ridiculous.  

It would be better if he didn’t have too much contact with your family, in order to avoid them asking too many questions, and to make the eventual divorce go smoothly.  

He rarely even attended the far more glamorous functions of high society, so something like this would be out of the question. His answer would go without asking.   

Or would it?  

You didn’t really know why you were entertaining the idea. Perhaps being with Neuvillette these past few months had greatly inflated your sense of self-importance—but then again, you thought that the two of you had gotten close enough where asking him wouldn’t be so preposterous. You were friends, and wouldn’t it be ruder to not at least extend an invitation to a friend? Wasn’t the act of asking in itself greatly appreciated?   

And…there was a little part of you that would like to show him around your hometown. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and all you could see for miles around were fields of wildflowers and mountains—a common sight in Fontaine—but there were a few spots that you had fond memories of. Since Neuvillette showed you his favorite places, it was only right to repay the favor, even if none of your favorite spots were as exciting as the giant willow tree or Merusea Village.  

Recent events, including the latest incident, had taught you the folly of making assumptions, even for seemingly inconsequential things like this. Just because you thought   

The worst thing he could say is no, you reasoned to yourself. And it’s not the end of the world if he does. Sure, Justine will be disappointed, but everyone knows how busy and reclusive Neuvillette is, so she’ll understand if he declines.  

As if on cue, you heard the front door open downstairs. Neuvillette had returned home. After a brief conversation with Marie, the sound of his heels briskly ascending the stairs and heading in the direction of your room until it stopped in front of your door. There was a soft knock.  

“Madame, may I come in?”  

“Yes,” you called out, and Neuvillette opened the door and stepped inside your room. He was about to close the door behind him, but then he looked at you. A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he left the door ajar.  

Um, why is he just standing there? You stared at him, confused when he didn’t take a seat right away. He simply stood there stiffly, his gaze a mixture of worry, uncertainty, and something else. For a second, you wondered if he was that caught off guard by your disheveled appearance that was a result of staying in bed all day. It took you a minute to realize that he was waiting for you to ask him to sit down. Really, this man… I thought we’re past such formalities.  

“You can pull up a chair,” you said, nodding towards the cushioned chairs in the center of the room. He complied, clasping his hands in his lap after settling in his seat and leaning towards you slightly. He stared at you intently, as if afraid that you would disappear before his eyes. You squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing only your rumpled nightgown and that you were lying in bed. You surreptitiously pulled your covers up to your chest.   

Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever had a man who isn’t my father in my room, you mused, though you were also aware that this wasn’t really the occasion to think about such things. Well, I guess it technically isn’t the first time, but this is very different.  

Thankfully, Neuvillette broke the silence and (once again) prevented your thoughts from going down a potentially thorny path.  

“How are you feeling, Madame? Regrettably, I was not able to take some time off to come and see you.”  

“There’s no need for that. Marie took very good care of me, and I got plenty of visitors today,” you indicated the tower of cake boxes on your bedside table.   

Neuvillette nodded, his face softening slightly. “We should postpone the meeting with Furina.”  

“No,” you said quickly, putting your hand on his. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’ll drag myself up the steps of the Palais if I have to.”  

Neuvillette looked like he wanted to argue, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. “There’s no need for that,” he said at last. “I would be happy to carry you into my office, if you should ask.”  

“Carry me into your office?” you repeated incredulously. Was he serious? But by now, you already knew the answer to that question.  

You leaned back against your pillow with a smile. You sometimes wondered if Neuvillette realized how unintentionally funny he could be. “Wouldn’t that give people the wrong idea?”  

“You do have a point. Then, I propose that we arrive at my office early in the morning, before the Palais employees come into work.”  

“How about instead of carrying me, I borrow your cane?”  

Neuvillette seemed to be pondering your words seriously. “But that would also run into the problem of rousing people’s suspicions. Someone might wonder why my cane is in your possession.”  

You turned your head away to smother your laugh.  

“It seems that the Melusines have made their visits,” Neuvillette said, looking at the tower of boxes on your bedside table.  

“Yes, they were all very sweet. Although, I’m not sure how they expect me to eat all these…” You liked dessert and all, but not to this extent. Perhaps you could bring some of them back home with you to share with your family and friends.   

“Clorinde also asked me to pass on her well wishes to you. She was very sorry to hear what happened.”  

“I see. Please thank her for me, and tell her not to blame herself for my foolishness.”  

“I will do that,” Neuvillette nodded, then was silent for a moment. His solemn gaze as he looked at you made it seem like you were diagnosed with some terminal illness rather than merely spraining your ankle badly and hitting your knee against the ground.   

“Neuvillette?” you called out his name in hopes of getting rid of that grave look in his eyes. It made your chest feel heavy.   

“Ah, by the way, I consulted with a friend of mine about your injury. She made this drink for you,” Neuvillette manifested a green, ridiculously adorable cup from out of nowhere. It reminded you of the bulky and colorful cups toddlers drank juice out of. “She says that it will help your body recover quicker.”  

“A friend of yours?” you repeated, your interest piqued. While Neuvillette would happily talk to you about the Melusines for hours on end and occasionally talk about his (human) acquaintances, you had never heard him call anyone his friend before.   

“Yes. She is the head nurse the Fortress of Meropide’s infirmary, and one of the kindest and most considerate people I know. I hope the two of you can meet one day.”  

“That’s high praise coming from you,” you said, making a mental note of this mysterious friend. “Why don’t we invite her to the sunflower viewing as well?”  

“What a wonderful idea. I shall do just that,” he said, then held out the cup to you. “Now, Madame, you should drink this.”  

“Alright,” you took a sip of the drink and nearly spat it out. “Bleakness” was the only way to describe the taste. It almost made you want to get out of bed and walk so that the pain could distract you from the torture of your tastebuds. For a heartbeat, you wondered if Neuvillette was trying to poison you. “A-Are you sure this is h-healthy?”  

“Of course,” Neuvillette said, looking baffled by your question. “I’ve drank it on numerous occasions, and I’ve always found myself quite refreshed and invigorated afterward. I asked Sigewinne to make it taste more palatable for you, as I’m aware that her concoctions are not for everyone. She truly hopes it makes you feel better.”  

This is palatable? You thought. Did I do something to this Sigewinne person? Whoever she was, she shared the same incomprehensible sense of taste as Neuvillette.  

Speaking of Neuvillette, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh Archons, is he expecting me to finish it in front of him? Just as you were trying to come up with an excuse to not drink it, those efforts were dashed by his next words. “Is it not to your liking?” he said quietly. You were vaguely aware that it had started raining outside.   

“I…um…” you didn’t know what to say or where to look. You suddenly had the impression that a large puppy was at your bedside, staring at you with sad eyes. Gah, he must be doing this on purpose! Either that, or he must really be fond of that friend of his. “Well, when it comes to medicine, it’s not really a matter of liking it or not liking it, right? A-And since you’ve gone to the trouble of asking your friend to make this for me, it would be rude of me to not drink it, right?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.  

“If you do not like it, then you do not need to force yourself—”  

“No, no, I mean, I’ve taken plenty of bitter medicine when I was little, and I survived. This will be no different,” you brought the straw up to your mouth and held your breath. Let’s just get this over quickly, you thought, then emptied the cup in one go. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to drink. However, the lumpy texture was still a struggle to swallow. You felt as though you had just eaten concrete.   

“That was…certainly something I’ve never drank before,” you managed, flopping back onto your pillows to recover. You opened a box of lemon tarts and shoved one into your mouth to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you wanted to drink some Fonta instead, but decided that it might be a bit uncouth. Of course, some might say that it was unladylike to eat cake in bed in the first place, but you doubted those people ever had the misfortune of having to drink that so-called “healthy drink.” “Please thank your friend for me.”  

Neuvillette nodded, watching you as you ate a second, then a third tart. Lemon wasn’t your favorite flavor, but anything would do right now. You offered one to him, but he politely declined. His gaze dropped to the papers in your lap. “…Were you writing a letter to someone?” he asked.   

“Oh!” you had almost forgotten about that. “My sister Justine sent us invitations to her birthday party. It’s a bit short notice, but it’s in a few days.���  

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you mention it before,” Neuvillette took a pause, as if he had only just taken in the entirety of your words. “Did you say ‘invitations’?”  

“Yes,” you nodded. Your hands suddenly felt sweaty. What were you so nervous about? “Since we’re, you know, husband and wife, it’s only natural that invitations would be sent to the both of us. Funny thing is, Justine thinks you’re already coming and has asked me if you require any accommodations, but, obviously, you haven’t given any answer as to whether or not you’ll be attending the party. I-I know that you usually don’t attend public functions, but birthday parties in our party don’t tend to be very extravagant affairs. It’s usually just a small gathering of close friends and relatives. We can even make everyone sign a contract of confidentiality, if you want. You don’t have to bring any gifts either. I think your presence will be a gift in itself for my sister, haha…”  

Oh no, I’m rambling again…why do I keep doing this? It’s a simple question! You toyed with the edge of your comforter, suddenly too nervous to look at his expression. Would there be a look of disgust there? Why would there be? Your brain argued back. You haven’t asked anything offensive!  

Finally, you dared to sneak a peek. He was staring at your face, as though scrutinizing it for answers to a difficult question.   

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, thinking that he must be trying to find a way to let you down gently.   

“…Do you want me to attend?” he said at last.   

You hadn’t expected that question. “What do you mean?” you frowned.  

“What I mean is…would it please you—would it make you happy if I attended your sister’s party?”  

The question threw you off guard. You didn’t know what he meant by it. What did it matter what you thought?  

“Well, it’s not my party, so my opinion doesn’t matter,” you said slowly. “My sister will certainly be overjoyed if you attended.”  

“But your opinion does matter quite a lot to me,” Neuvillette said. He was oddly insistent about this.  

Oh, I get it. He doesn’t want to come, but doesn’t want to offend, you thought.  

“If you want to come, then come. If you don’t, then don’t,” Realizing that your words might sound too harsh, you softened your tone. “It’s okay to say no. I won’t hold it against you. I’m sure my sister and everyone else will understand.”  

Neuvillette stared at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You could hear the rain pounding against your window, and you turned your head to it. The sky was a dark, leaden gray. It’s been raining pretty frequently these days, hasn’t it? You thought distantly.  

“Unfortunately, I have a trial to oversee on that day,” he said. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him clench and unclench his fists. You wondered why he didn’t mention the trial earlier. “I do not think it would be wise for me to attend, in any case. It would be a needless distraction.”  

“Alright then. I’ll tell my sister you can’t attend,” you said lightly, then turned your attention to your unfinished letter. You picked up your pen and began to write. Focusing your mind on producing the words helped distract from the tumult of emotions within you—emotions that you didn’t know quite what to make of. Was it relief you felt, or disappointment? Relief for what? Disappointment about what? Were you seriously expecting him to say “yes”? That made no sense at all. In fact, it would have been stranger if he had agreed to attend.   

It was better to keep expectations low. That way, it wouldn’t feel so terrible when they were inevitably let down.   

In any case, it’s over and done with, you told yourself firmly, signing the letter with a flourish. Maybe too big of a flourish. I’ll post this first thing in the morning—that is, if I can walk by then.  

You glanced up to see Neuvillette still sitting there. He was drinking from his cup, but he was watching you over the rim. You had long gotten used to him studying you like you were some kind of strange specimen, but it was still awkward, especially in this silence. Your room, which had always felt needlessly spacious to you, suddenly felt very small.  

Just as you were debating whether or not to fake a sleepy yawn and ask him to leave, he spoke again.  

“You haven’t yet bought a birthday present for your sister, yes?”  

“Uh-huh?” you replied, wondering what he was getting at.   

“I won’t have any time tomorrow, but I do have an hour or two to spare after our meeting with Furina. We shall go pick out a present together then.”  

You gaped at him. “Together?”  

“Is there something wrong with that? It is customary for married couples to give presents as a pair, is it not? Since I cannot attend the party, allow me to make it up to your sister with a birthday present.”  

“…If you insist,” you said, since he seemed so adamant. Neuvillette was so hard to grasp sometimes. Sometimes, he was clear as a fresh water spring. Other times, like now, you had the sense that you were staring into the sea, unable to see all the way to its bottom. “She’d be happy about that.”  

“Then it is settled,” he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, then leaned forward and cupped your cheek. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to react. “W-Wha…” was all you could manage to stammer out. There was only a millimeter of space between your faces. Your heart sped up a little when his gaze moved to your lips. His thumb moved to the corner of your lip and brushed against it. It took you a moment to realize that he had flicked off a cake crumb.  

"That has been bothering me for a while,” he murmured, removing his hand from your cheek. Despite that, you could still feel the smooth silk of his glove and the press of his long fingers against your skin. “I will take my leave now. Please rest and get well soon, Madame.”  

“I-I will,” you nodded, suddenly feeling shy. You took a box of Conch Madeleines from your bedside table and handed them to him. “Please take this. It’ll take me a year to finish all these desserts anyways. There’s a little packet of whipped cream included, so if it’s too dry for you...”  

“Thank you,” he took the box from you, then stared into your eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving your room. It was only when you heard his footsteps recede to the other side of the house that you realized that it was no longer raining.   

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