#OOC ∵ ( outside the frame. )

[kagamine-rinrin]

FLOR IS GOOD. KEEP DOING FLOR. WE LOVE A BITCH WITH TALENT

" Oh man... Maybe a URL change isn't a bad idea, even after this long. "

[widowshill]

she's naked

[captainseamech]

//giggling like a madman imagining HT into HH just to be flabbergasted at everyone constantly being that open about... well, stuff

[cautelous]

not really here much anymore due to irl obligations so sorry to reblog a giveaway and run... you know how it goes

[cowboydisaster]

Dark Red

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 5.6k summary: The Task Force 141 goes out drinking, and you wind up on your stomach in Ghost's bed. If you knew it would only take a few rounds of drinks, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. (eventual smut, lots of family 141 interactions beforehand) a/n: This is my first COD fic and also the first thing I've written since May, so go easy on me if it's ooc pls xx. If you like this fic please give a follow or a reblog, I'm fixing up my blog and I'll be writing a lot more Simon. beta read by @margowritesthings warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (smut, fingering, size difference, doggy)

masterlist

Your dress is wrapped tightly around your frame, held up by tiny golden chains that drape over your shoulders. It's dark green, and just barely covers your ass. It's definitely not the tactical gear that you’re used to wearing. You swallow thickly, pulling it down over your thighs as much as possible as you glance over yourself in the mirror. You barely recognize the reflection in front of you. No eye black, no tac-vest or combat boots. Tonight you’re not a soldier, you’re a civilian.

Price had arranged a night out to celebrate the 141’s latest win. He invited the Task Force alongside some allies for drinks at a club of all places, figuring everyone deserved to unwind. You were hesitant at first, but the boys all reassured you it would be just a few drinks. 

Once all the little details of your outfit are in place, you give yourself a onceover before pushing open Price’s bathroom door. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price are all leaning over the kitchen counter, speaking quietly about the mission. They smile, oblivious to you as you exit the bathroom, feeling a bit self conscious about the dress Kate insisted you wear. That is until Ghost catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye and quietens. He turns, and you watch his back straighten, hands in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes slowly run up and down your body. Something about that stare… you wonder if Ghost would ever see you the way you see him. It's been years now of you pining after him. You could never tell him. He’s your lieutenant, and besides, you’ve heard what happens to the recruits who make a move on Ghost. Every single one of them was harshly rejected and dropped from the program. You can't compromise your job, especially not for someone who doesn’t want you back. 

 Ghost stares, and the other three men turn to you in sync. A fierce blush blooms across your face as four pairs of eyes land on you. Ghost is wearing that familiar balaclava, the one he wears out in public or around the base. It hides everything but his eyes, and you stare into their swirling depths for a moment before the eye contact becomes too much. You clear your throat, glancing down over your dress. 

“Too much…?” You whisper, questioning your choice of fashion and makeup. 

“No…Not too mu–” Ghost is cut off as Soap lunges forward with a smile bigger than Texas and slaps you on the arm.

“Lookin’ good, bonnie lass!” Soap laughs. He looks nice himself. You’ve only seen him in sweats around the base, but tonight all four of your teammates are dressed to the nines. 

“Not so bad yourself, Johnny.” You smile, clutching a small purse to your hip. 

“We ready then, Cap?” Gaz asks, glancing up from his phone for a moment, “Laswell just got there, said she brought König.” 

“Yes.” Price smiles at you, checking his watch, “I've ordered two Ubers. Should both be here.” 

You follow them outside, smiling and nodding to Ghost as he holds the door open for you. The Captain and Gaz take the first car while you file into the second with Ghost and Soap. Soap sits in the front, leaving you in the back with Ghost. Your lieutenant is quiet most of the ride over, letting Johnny fill the silence, which he does. But it's hard to focus on Soap talking. You’re hyper aware of the eyes on you and how exposed you are. Your breasts are practically pushed up into your face, and the dress suddenly feels all too tight. You’re used to fighting, not celebrating, not partying. You take a few deep breaths, knowing that once you get a few drinks in your system you’ll feel better. 

“You alright?” 

Your eyes flick up. It’s Ghost, just barely over a whisper. His eyes are fixated on something out of the window, but he still must have noticed your anxiety. You nod.

“Just nervous.” You admit, “I’m not used to all this.” You whisper, gesturing down to your dress and matching strappy heels, then to the car that is driving you through the nightlife. Ghost smirks under his mask. 

“Me neither. Bourbon helps.” He says. 

“You drink bourbon?” You ask, glancing over. Soap hasn’t noticed your little conversation and continues to chat up the driver. You hadn’t taken Ghost as a bourbon man, he’s piqued your curiosity. 

“I fancy Kentucky.” He remarks. You chuckle. 

“Don’t let him know that.” You nod your head in Soap’s direction. 

“Never.” Ghost smirks, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Your eyes fixate on the tattoos lining his left arm, just briefly exposed. You force your eyes away, knowing if you stare too long you’ll get caught up in the intricate pattern. The thought of running your fingers over those tattoos lingers in your head, soothing you enough to make the ride. 

—

The club is nice. Colored lights stream from the ceiling, a steady thrum of music vibrates lowly through the walls. You take in your surroundings, watching people drink, and dance with one another. It's a bit dark, hard to make out faces. You take note of all the exits while following behind Gaz and Price, both leading you all towards a closed off section of the club. Laswell is already there waiting along with her wife and König. The man must have already had a few drinks because he’s more relaxed than you've ever seen him. König’s eyes immediately land on you, and flutter down to the short cut off of your dress. You gasp as a burly figure pushes past you, separating you from König’s eyes. Ghost. He stands between the two of you and starts unclipping the velvet rope that separates you from the VIP section, much to the bouncer’s frustration. You blush, looking back to König whose eyes are sheepishly staring at the floor. Ghost must have pulled out his famous deadly glare. Your cheeks burn red. 

“There you are!” Laswell exclaims, motioning for the bouncer to lift the velvet rope that secures her area. No one seems to have noticed the little interaction between Ghost and König, thankfully. 

“VIP?” You chuckle. “Was that some CIA shit?” You ask, passing into the nicer, more secluded area of the club. A couch wraps around the corner wall, a table sitting in front of it. 

“Afraid not.” She smiles, wrapping an arm around her wife’s shoulders. You take a seat on the couch, watching as Ghost motions for Price to follow him towards the bar.

“We’ll be back.” He mumbles. Price pats Ghost on the shoulder as you watch them leave. 

“So, König?” Soap asks as he sits down, nodding towards the masked man. You take note that a beanie rests atop his head in place of his usual tac helmet. 

“Hmm?” König asks, suddenly alert. His eyes dart until they land on Soap. 

“How many drinks is it gonna take for you to shed the mask?” The scot asks. König grows quiet, tightly gripping his beer bottle by the neck. 

“Nein, I do not–” König begins before Soap jumps up, fist down on the table. 

“Nine?!” Soap laughs, “Keep em comin’, Ghost!” Soap hollers towards the bar. König shakes his head profusely.  

“No, that is not what I meant.” König tries to clear the situation up, but is drowned out by noise as Gaz and Soap laugh together. Laswell shoots you a knowing glance. You feel for her, being the only woman to watch these children.  

“You went with the dress I suggested.” Laswell notes, a proud smile gracing her lips. 

“I did.” You remark, blushing, “It's a bit tighter than what I’m used to.” You admit, sitting up straighter as a few from the table look back to you. 

“That's the point.” Laswell laughs, shooting you a quick wink. 

Before you can ask what she means by that, Ghost and Price return with two trays of shots. Half the shots are a golden, bronze color and the others are crystal clear. You raise an eyebrow as Ghost sits down beside you. 

“Get your bourbon?” You ask. 

“Had three down at the bar. You’ve got some catching up to do, yeah?” 

As everyone plucks shots from the trays, Ghost slides three in front of you with his knuckles. Two bourbons and one of the clear liquor. 

“What's this?” You ask, picking up the shot and holding it under your nose. It burns your nostrils, stealing the air from your lungs and replacing it with a sharp sting. 

“Patrón.” Ghost replies with a smirk. Your eyes follow as he grabs a clear shot from the tray with one hand, and pulls his mask up over his lips with the other. You’ve never seen his lips before. He brings the small glass to his lips, and you try to memorize the shape of his them, the jut of his jaw. It's gone in a flash as he downs the shot like it’s water before pulling his balaclava down over his chin. 

“Your turn.” He smirks, giant hand pushing the shot glass towards you. 

You follow suit, throwing your head back and letting the alcohol slide down your throat. You grimace at its strength, making a sour face. 

“Fuckin hell.” You cough. 

“You’ve got a bit of catching up to do.” Laswell points out, nodding down the table. You notice as Gaz takes the last shot from the first tray and your eyes boggle. 

— 

An hour later

Steady music thumps through the building. It feels slow, sensual. Maybe it’s because you’re wasted, but your confidence is through the roof as you make your way across the dance floor. Your eyes are locked onto your group, specifically searching for Ghost. The more alcohol that enters your system, the more you find yourself staring at him, noticing his every movement, every breath. You’d never allow yourself these thoughts while sober– the thought of wanting your Lieutenant is out of the question when your mind is clear, but right now it’s not. Your eyes search for him as you make your way back to the VIP section. 

“Lt?” You ask, sliding back onto the velvet sofa. 

“Went for a piss.” Soap exclaims.

“Why don’t you go meet him in the bathroom, maybe he could finally bend ya ov–” Johnny starts. 

“Soap!” Price cuts him off harshly. Soap only laughs, looking down the table to Gaz and the Captain. You look between the two of them, absolutely oblivious to the jokes that have been passed around the table all night.

“Oh, come on, Captain! He wants her and everyone knows it. We all see that shriveled up, cold, dead heart meltin’ at the sight of this bonnie.” Soap points to you. 

“Bloody hell, we bet on it!” Gaz chuckles, adjusting his cap.

“I must admit, I do see it.” König adds in. You squint down the table at him, and he immediately looks away. Price looks down at the boys like he’s schooling children. Your mouth falls open, taking in all the new information. 

“Remember that's your lieutenant you’re talking about. Leave his private life alone. You know how Simon is.” Price interjects, stopping the conversation before it gets out of hand. You blush fiercely, taken aback by their words. You don’t even think about what they’ve said, you can’t. Price looks to you apologetically. 

“What?” You ask, looking between them. “Ghost?” You double check, making sure that your hearing hasn’t totally left you. 

“He’s gone on you, mate.” Gaz adds, tone more serious than you would have expected.

“Christ, just pass me another drink.” You say, extending your hand out as König slides a shot down the table.

—

Thirty minutes later

You can feel his eyes on you. They’re burning through the thin fabric of your dress, where your breasts rest perfectly inside the silk, where the curve of your ass swells just above the hem of the dress. Your cheeks blush, whether from his eyes or the alcohol you’re not sure. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, openly staring at you across the floor. His bourbon is held tightly in his hand as he watches you twirl on the dance floor between Soap and König. The lights aren't nearly as bright as your smile, and the night isn’t nearly as dark as the glint in your eyes. 

Ghost had watched men approach you on several occasions, and each time Soap shoved them away from you. You hadn’t given any of them the time of day. But Ghost? You’re taunting him, testing his self control to the point that he’s about to break. Every swing of your hips accompanies a purposeful glint in your eyes, a subtle bite of your lip. You’re teasing him, and he can’t take it. 

He deserves it. This is payback. He’s been apparently wanting you for months, and everyone in the damn Task Force knew about it but you. You’ve had enough of it. You extend your drink out for Soap to hold, accidentally bumping it against his chest and spilling a bit down his shirt. He takes the glass with furrowed eyebrows, looking down at your tipsy frame.

“Where ya headin’ to?” He yells over the music. 

“Have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back, j-just watch my drink.” You stumble over your words, eyes never leaving Ghost’s. Soap nods, taking your cocktail and continuing his conversation with König. 

Ghost inhales deeply from across the room, eyes fixated on the taunting little “come hither” motion of your finger. You turn away from him, making your way towards the VIP bathrooms. You walk slow enough that he can follow after you, not that you’re even capable of walking too fast, lest you lose your balance and fall over. You push past a few other people, your heart beating quickly as you go. The music is loud and the lights are low, which you’re grateful for. Hopefully no one notices Ghost trailing behind you. A warm buzz radiates in your chest, pulsing down your bones as the liquor you’ve been downing boosts your confidence and slows your movements. 

You push the door open, stepping into the dimly lit bathroom. It’s clean and orderly, perks of the VIP section. Immediately, you walk in front of the oval mirror, checking over your outfit and fixing your hair. You reapply a quick layer of red lipstick, tucking it back into your purse just as you hear the lock click. 

Before you can turn around, a solid warmth presses against your back. Ghost. The sink digs into your hip bones as he sandwiches you in, one hand pushing your hair over your shoulder. His skin on yours is more intoxicating than any drinks you've had tonight. He's never touched you, not like this. You giggle, tipsy as ever as he rolls his balaclava over his nose. 

"Ghost–" You whine, fingers clenching around the sink as he gently nips at the skin of your neck. He inhales your perfume, exhaling in a deep growl that rumbles through you. 

"Simon." He corrects, hands wrapping around your hips. For just a moment, you sober up. He wants you to use his real name? 

Your coherent thoughts fall away as he turns you around, hands nearly bruising your waist. He kisses you. It's sloppy and drunk, but it's everything. All the months of wondering, and hoping– he's kissing you. If you'd known it would only take a few rounds of drinks for the courage, you would have gotten drunk with him earlier. Painted fingernails dig into his shoulders as you lean up for more. His tongue delves into your mouth, and you whine. He tastes like his favorite bourbon, smells like expensive cologne– his signature scent that you could recognize anywhere. Eventually, you pull away for the oxygen that he's so easily stolen from you. 

"Everyone said…" You take a deep breath, glassy eyes flicking from his scarred lips and chin up to his eyes. He waits for a response, but sees hesitation.

"Hmmm, what did they say, love?" 

"They said you wanted me." 

"How couldn't I?" Ghost growls. 

You yelp as he grabs underneath your thighs and lifts you up onto the sink. His hands are massive, maneuvering you as if he was trained to do so. Your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against the pressure in his jeans.

"Fuckin hell, I've wanted you since you first joined the Task Force." Ghost growls in between kisses and bites to your pulsepoint.

You think back to all that time ago. It seems like ages since you met the cool headed, brooding, terrifying Simon "Ghost" Riley. You remember thinking how easily he could break you. Now?– Oh, how you want him to. 

Hearing him say it out loud sends a wave of need straight to your core. Your hands shoot for his black leather belt, but he shakes his head, stopping you before you can unclasp it.

"Not here, love." He shakes his head, gripping your chin to press one slow, sweet kiss to your plump lips. Your eyes slip shut, and you pout as he pulls away from you and slides his balaclava back down over his chin. Disappointment pools over you as you search for an explanation.

"Flat's not far." Is all he says before he grabs your wrist and pulls you off the sink. He unlocks the bathroom door and begins pulling you back towards the crowd. "Here. Order us an Uber, yeah?" Simon asks you, slipping his phone into your free hand. 

It's too much for your drunken mind to take in as he leads you through the crowd of people. Colored lights strobe, making it hard for you to make out faces, but eventually you spot your group across the club. Soap is still holding your drink, but now he's looking around. Price and Laswell are with him, eyebrows drawn together in worry.

Remembering your task, you look down to Ghost’s phone. It's already opened up to the app, but messages are coming in and you can't swipe them away quick enough. The light bothers your eyes, and you attempt to read the messages as they flutter across the blurry screen.

Cpt. Price:

-Is y/n with you at the table? We seem to have lost her. Very worried.

You swipe the message away, and quickly order an Uber to Ghost’s saved home address. It's difficult, and you have to squint to make out all the swirling numbers and bright lights. But eventually, even in your state, you manage to get a confirmation code and receipt. An unsaved number pops up, more than one notification at a time lighting up the screen:

-LT, where'd you end up?

-Y/n asked me to hold her drink, disappeared on me. 

-OH SHIT

-LT!

-YOU HOUND!

-HAHA! Getting a pump, eh, LT? No worries, lad. I'll tell the Cap what's going on.

Several erotic emojis pop up on the screen and you blush fiercely.  Then you giggle. Soap, of course. You shake your head to rid yourself of the idea. The last thing you want is for Soap to blab about this. 

Simon pulls you through the exit and into the cold night. The breeze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and your dress helps none. As he leads you towards the road, you check the address once more and slip Simon’s phone back into his blazer pocket. 

"I d-didn't know you lived in Manchester." You whisper as he leads you out into the cold night. 

"Manny, born and raised.” You can hear Ghost huff through his mask, as if something humors him, “But no one knows where I live." He mutters, leading you down towards the busy street. 

No one except for you.

Cars pass by, and scantily clad men and women rush down the sidewalks searching for the same pleasure that you’re seeking. You bite your lip, feeling a bit nervous now that this is actually happening. Simon squeezes your hand. 

A steady trickle of rain begins to sprinkle down from the dark night sky, and goosebumps trail down your bare arms and legs. As soon as you tense, Simon is pulling his blazer off. 

“Simon, that's not necessary, really–” You begin to protest, but he is already wrapping the expensive jacket around your shoulders. 

“Hush.” He warns, and you obey. It's instinct. He’s your lieutenant after all.

You can see the tug of a smirk under his mask, blonde eyelashes fluttering as his brown orbs flick down over your body. You frown lightly, feeling bad that he’s given up his jacket for your sake. 

“Don’t worry, love. I'll be taking it all off soon, yeah?”

The alcohol buzzing through your system, making everything fuzzy, only intensifies the burning desire in between your legs. You don’t know how much longer you can wait. If you had it your way, he would have already taken you, bent you over the sink and had his way. The thought alone causes butterflies to fall in your stomach. Cold fingers wrap around Simon’s phone, still resting in the coat you’re now wearing. His recent notifications are all from Soap, and you scroll through them until a new one pops up on the screen.

“Car’s here.” You whisper, half lidded eyes searching until you find the sleek, black Volvo as it pulls against the curb. He takes your hand again, pulling you towards the car. 

“Simon, how long is this ride gonna be? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” You admit, wanting nothing more than to tear your damn dress to shreds and throw yourself at the man beside you. He only huffs, showing a self restraint that you could only dream of. 

“Patience.” Is all he says as he opens the car door for you. You step inside the nice car, scooting towards the other side to make room for Simon to sit in the back with you. You see the momentary panic in the driver’s eyes as a 6’4 masked man climbs into his backseat, but Simon only places his hand on your thigh and politely confirms the details with the man. 

Simon grips your thigh, the large pads of his fingers leaving imprints on your soft flesh. You shake your ankle, distracting yourself from the desire growing in your abdomen.

“Drive fast, yeah?” Simon mumbles, sliding twenty quid to the driver.

—

The door lock clicks. Simon checks it twice. 

His hands are on you in an instant, picking you up by your thighs and pushing you up against the wall. He didn’t turn the lights on, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark as Simon’s lips run over your jaw in sloppy kisses. You moan, hands wrapping around his neck and resting on the back of his balaclava. 

“Simon, please–” You whine, throwing your head back as he nips your earlobe. 

“Just a second, darling.” Ghost growls, holding you against him. He carries you through the dark flat, maneuvering drunkenly down an even darker hall. He approaches a door, and kicks it open like a human battering ram. You’re slowing him down, your lips pressing against him everywhere that they can reach, leaving love bites that he’ll still have in the morning. You kick your heels off before he even sets you down, your hands tearing off the blazer from your limbs. It hits the ground, Simon’s phone buzzing silently in the pocket. He’ll find several missed calls from the boys in the morning. You don’t even want to think about the notifications your phone is receiving. Luckily, you dropped your purse as soon as you entered the front door, so it can be a problem for tomorrow. 

Simon gently tosses you down on his king sized bed, and you fall onto the plush black blankets. They’re warm and soft and they smell like him. It’s all too intoxicating. You lean forward and unclasp Simon’s belt buckle as quickly as your intoxicated hands can manage as he pulls his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. You’re taken aback as you notice a sizable scar on his ribs. It's a messy, deep, pink scar that indents into his otherwise pale skin. Your eyebrows wrinkle, fingertips brushing near the flesh before he snatches your hand away, squeezing it too tight to the point that it hurts.

“Don’t.” Is all he says. It’s a warning, and you blush a deep crimson out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry.” You mutter, quietly. Simon brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles. 

Ghost leans forward, hand gripping the side of your neck as he kisses you again. His balaclava tickles your nose as you deepen the kiss, leaning more into him. Any embarrassment or awkwardness from your last interaction falls away as he pushes his jeans down over his legs, lips still interlocked with yours. Simon steps out of his jeans and boxers, and your jaw falls slack. 

“Simon–” You stutter, eyes fixated on the length between his legs. Your eyes flick back up to his face, seeing the proud smirk he wears, even through the mask.. He simply won’t fit. It’s just not possible– He’s too big.

“I can’t-” You shake your head.

“I’ll be gentle, love.” He reassures, climbing overtop of you on the bed. Nervously, you nod. You trust him. Big hands grab you by the waist and flip you onto your stomach. You whine, clutching the sheets below you. He shushes you, and you gasp as golden beads and zipper teeth fly across the room, bouncing off of the floor and the glass window overlooking the city. A loud tear rings out as Ghost shreds your dress from the seams.

“Fuck, Simon! That was expensive!” You yelp as he pulls the ruined fabric from your body, discarding it on the floor. Laswell’s gonna kill you.

“I’ll  buy you a new one.” He growls, warm hand running down your bare back. His finger loops under the black lace thong you’re wearing. Simon smirks, “All for me?” He asks, releasing the lace so it smacks back down onto your skin. 

“Yes– all for you, only you, Simon.” You mumble, pushing your ass back up in hopes that he’ll touch you.

“That’s my girl.” 

You moan at his words, hands moving to your hips to shove the lace down off your legs, but he brushes your hands away, stopping you.

“Leave it on.” Simon rumbles at your back. You nod your head against the pillow, bringing your hands to rest under your head. Ghost pulls your thong string to the side, letting it rest just out of the way.

“Fuckin ‘ell, love.” Simon takes a breath, trying to keep the control that you’re so close to snapping as his fingers trail over your dripping folds. 

“Fuck, Simon. Stop teasing.” You beg, hips pushing back against his hand. He chuckles, dipping two fingers into your throbbing cunt. 

“O-Oh!” You whine, gripping the sheets as he hooks his thick fingers, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Simon kisses your back, nudging your legs with his less busy hand so that they’re folded under your stomach and spread apart. He positions you low enough that your stomach touches the bed. He curls his fingers, scissoring them occasionally as you throb and whine for him. He groans at the noises you make, working you open until you’re ready. 

“Perfect.” He grumbles, sliding his fingers out of you. You whine in confusion until you feel the tip of his length teasing at your entrance. 

“Ready, love?” Ghost asks. You moan, biting your lip and nodding your head. 

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Im ready, just– please Simon, fuck!” You stutter. 

Simon slowly pushes in, and you gasp for air as he parts you like the fucking red sea. It hurts a little, and your nose wrinkles as you exhale. Simon notices the hitch in your breath, carefully examining your reaction to make sure you’re comfortable. It only takes a few moments for you to acclimate, and then he feels incredible. His size stretches you, reaching depths you didn't think possible. He hits every sweet spot as he spears into you. 

Simon’s chest presses against your back as he pushes into you. His scarred lips lock onto your neck, biting you as he fucks you from behind. He grips the headboard to steady himself, nearly leaving indents in the wood as he thrusts.

It's rough, drunk and sloppy as he drills into you. He starts out at a slow and steady pace, grinding into you rhythmically so as to not hurt you. Your exhales become sharp huffs, swirling together with the puffs of air he exhales next to your ear. If only you could turn around and kiss him again. You crave his lips against yours, satisfying the craving you’ve been ignoring for so long. But you know Simon might not be ready for that level of intimacy yet. You’ve heard stories, connected the dots. 

All too soon, you find yourself teetering on the edge from his movements. You gasp and moan under him, whimpering out his name so loudly that you’re sure the entire building can hear. The headboard rocks against the wall with every thrust, loudly slamming and leaving dents in the drywall. Neither of you care, too wrapped up in each other to even realize. 

Your neck is bruised from Simon’s lips, adding to the pleasure that’s pushing you over the edge. You fight it, but lose as pulsing heat tears through your core. Stars explode in your vision, eyes shut tight enough that they wrinkle. 

“F-uck, Simon!” You scream, nails digging into the sheets as your whole body trembles with the weight of your orgasm. Your walls squeeze Simon’s length in time with his thrusts, turning him into a groaning mess. 

“Bloody fuckin ‘ell." Simon groans, accent thicker than usual. His warm breath tickles your ear, and you gasp as he bottoms out, hitting your cervix. 

“You- You on the pill?” Simon manages to stutter out between deep grunts. He can’t risk pregnancy, can’t be a father. But you feel so fucking good and he can’t bring himself to unbury himself from your perfect, dripping cunt. 

“Got the patch– you’re good. Just fucking fill me up, please.” You beg, rocking your hips against him. He nearly curses at your words. You have a foul mouth in bed, something he wouldn’t have guessed. You whimper his name, and that’s all it takes. 

Simon grunts deep and guttural, and with one an iron grip on your hips, he fills you up with his spend. You moan, taking it all until you can’t, and it comes dripping out around him before he’s even finished. 

“That’s it, fffuck– y/n.” He grunts as the last of his seed spills out.

You press your forehead against the sheets, wincing as he pulls out of you and collapses beside you on the bed. A sheen of sweat lines both your bodies, but as much as you’d like a shower, you’re exhausted. A digital clock rests on the table beside Simon’s bed, and you sit up, squinting to look at it. 0300. Damn. 

You look back towards Simon. He’s half sitting up against the headboard, half laying down. You notice the thousand yard stare that he’s putting off, and you gently cup his chin, pulling his gaze towards you. 

“You okay?” You ask, rolling up his balaclava with your dainty fingers. You uncover the subtle smile on his lips. You smile in retur, half lidded eyes focusing on the shape of his lips. Your thumb traces over them gently.

“Better now.” He whispers. You press a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet before pulling away. 

“Get some sleep, love.” He says, softer than you’ve ever heard his voice. Much to his surprise, you tuck yourself into the crook of his side, wrapping your arms around his torso. Sleep overcomes you almost immediately. He’s too warm, too perfect. It’d be impossible for you to stay awake next to the comforting, human heater that he is. 

Simon hesitates. It’s been a long time since anyone has been this close to him. The bourbon gave him confidence enough to bring you home, but this is a very new territory, and not even the alcohol can guide him through this one. Sex is one thing, but intimacy? Emotional vulnerability? Simon burned those handbooks long ago.

“Love?” He asks, awkwardly looking to see if you’re awake. You don’t respond, asleep he confirms. Simon’s not sure what to do. He doesn’t want to move you. Are you comfortable? Is he too close? Too warm? 

He sighs, looking down at your arms tightly wound around him. No one’s shown him this type of affection, not ever. He’s not sure how to reciprocate it, but he wants to. One day at a time. Simon pulls the blanket up over your waist, checking twice to make sure that it's covering you. Carefully, he places a hand over your back, feeling your soft skin against his. 

He doesn’t sleep at all, opting to stay awake and watch the small rise and fall of your back on his lap. He doesn’t deserve you, he's sure. But you’re here, and that’s something.

[youronlydarlin]

warning: kinda sad ANGST, Simon losses you :( , ooc kinda?? But he's soft for you only, trust me bro

This was kinda inspired by that one part in the comics where our poor, Si holds his mums skull, n he jus'... Kinda nuzzles into it. I dunno it just bought on some sad feeling, mkay...

Simon who slightly raises the cup of tea he's drinking each time he has one, just to let you know he's relaxing. Or trying his best too, at least. Doesn't know what he'll do if he worried you from beyond the grave. Sometimes he looks at all the belongings you left behind. Saying how they probably miss you, but not nearly as much as he does.

Unlike some, Simon uses your things. He doesn't want the house to go through the pain of loosing you too. So he drinks from your mug, and sits on your chair. Reads your favorite books, but never takes out the book marks in case you want to continue reading them. He also completes your bucket list for you, and even though he's the one doing them he always whispers 'good job, to the wind, hoping they'll carry the messenge to you.

Simon who speaks to your framed pictures. He remembers each, and every memory behind them. "Bet your happy... Now it'll always be my turn to grab the 'bloody groceries.." he jests. He hopes that one made you laugh. Knowing you, you would've. It's a mystery how you always laughed at his lame jokes. Though your laugh's always been better than the awful punchlines.

Simon who passes by that cafe you bugged him to go with you to, and he feels his throat go dry. He never got to take you there because of a sudden call from Price, telling him about an urgent, albeit sudden, mission. He definitely regrets not taking you out on dates more often. There's so many shops opening that he knows you would've loved to see.

Simon who's heart breaks at how quickly the world turns without you. Everything's moving so quickly, leaving him behind like it's already moved on, and he hates it. He hates how there's less clothes to fold now. Food is served, but only for one. The taste of it is flavorless, and dry. It's times like these, that he wishes he should have took the time and learn your recipes.

But what's worse, is that your side of the bed is cold. And it'll remain that way forever. At times he'll reach for you absentmindedly. Nightmares about war traded for dreams about you, but during those dreamless nights where sleep doesn't visit he'll stroke your pillow the same way he'd do to keep your hair out of your face, and pull the covers over the empty space you once occupied. He wonders if it's cold where you are right now. But just know that he's always willing to warm you up if ever you come back.

Simon who...

Stands at the doorway. Bag slinged over his shoulder, full of everything he needs and more for deployment. He knows he can't leave without properly saying goodbye, so he fishes out his wallet, and digs out a picture of you. He holds it up to his face, and it's funny. How you're not even staring at the camera when the photo was taken. No, you were staring at him. This one's always been his favorite. So he clears his throat, and wishes you don't hear the slight shake in his tone.

"..By now you would've told me to be careful.. And I will, by the way. But, m' sorry for all the times I didn't...'

....

" I have to go now. Don't need them gettin' on my ass for 'being late.. so.."

....

"..You just rest now, ok, love? There's nothing else for you to worry about' anymore. I love you, always. Wish me, and the boys luck, yeah?.."

He gives a light kiss to your photo, and it's as if you're with him when he steps outside the door..

a/n: This was a challenge to write, and I don't know what to feel about the results. I'm just polishing my english, I guess. M'not good at writing angst, you can probably tell, also my grammar feels off on this one, again. English isn't my first language, sorry. So please correct me on any mistakes I've made! But putting all that aside, I hope you like this more than I do! And, always remember that you are loved, and cared for! Have an amazing day, my darlings!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[stirthewaters]

Bad Mood

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: slightly ooc Wednesday?? angst - fluff, (not proofread I just threw it together 😭)

Summary: Wednesday has trouble figuring out your bad mood and decides to take it into her own hands

Pairings: Wednesday x GN!Reader

Wednesday was frustrated, to say the least. Though she would never vocally express her irritations towards you, you were surely a dilemma, and the fact that she was having trouble solving the puzzle that was you at the moment was most definitely the issue.

You had been moping all day, acting uncharacteristically sulky and closed off. Wednesday would’ve almost liked it if she wasn’t so put off by your sudden change of behavior. Sulking didn’t look good on you, she observed, as you sat beside her during class, not paying attention and absentmindedly twirling a pencil between your thumbs, the wood surprisingly close to splintering as you did so.

No, you had not given any reasoning to why you were feeling this way, and Wednesday did not like the sneaking suspicion that she might have had something to do with it. Though she couldn’t recall ever explicitly saying or doing anything to make you upset she knew that she was most certainly not one to know much about any sort of complex emotional drama, and therefore she was left outside of the tangled barbwire that was your emotions. Why must you be so confusing? Puzzles were supposed to be enjoyable to solve, not frustrating.

Wednesday let you be most of the day, silently hoping some time would improve your mood but you remained either irritable and snappy or moody and quiet, practically telling off Xavier when he came late to class and delayed it about ten minutes. Although the Addams had to admit that she found a sort of amusement in seeing you scold someone, it wasn’t followed by the playful roll of your eyes that you usually gave someone to indicate you were joking. Clearly something had upset you and she was getting increasingly frustrated.

The raven tried easing your irritably by placing a cold hand on your warm thigh, trying to practice the gentle rubs that she typically knew you liked, and though you stiffened as usual under her touch it did nothing to soften your mood as your eyes darkly flitted away.

But that didn’t worry her. Wednesday wasn’t used to being worried, let alone emotions themselves. To the Addams, emotions were a tangled spiderweb that once trapped in became a struggle to navigate, distracting one from common sense and rationality. Yet, she still felt the uncomfortable prickling of sickening worry in her chest when she saw you actually tear up. And it was almost without reason. Nobody had spoken to you unkindly or done anything physically immoral, yet your eyes glistened and you pulled your hood over your head, dark eyes disappearing behind its frame as you did so. You were crying? Wednesday briefly wondered whether or not she’d seen you cry before, most certainly she hadn’t without explicable reason.

Your quiet sniffles seemed to be the only thing her brain would allow her to hear amidst the sound of students around you.

Instantly she gripped your wrist gently yet firmly, pulling you into a dark corner in the hall as she searched for your eyes under the hood. That prickle in her chest started to scratch as you huffed out stiffly, in a voice close to cracking. “What is it?”

Wednesday silently brought her hand up to your hood, pulling it down carefully to see your dark eyes swimming in tears, and she felt her voice soften just slightly at the sight of them as she murmured, “I wish to know what has been bothering you throughout the day. You’ve been distant and irritable.” You tried to look away but she gently pulled your chin back to look at her, feeling you shake under her grasp. “Cara Mia, I would like to know whether or not I have been the source of your…” the Addams struggled for the right word. “Current emotional status.”

You shook your head weakly. God, she could tell you were fragile. It was as if the slightest poke could set you off, and she knew she had to tread carefully. Her brain raced to remember everything Enid had taught her on… comfort. The idea was a personal ick but with you she would make an exception. “Would you like to leave?” Your weak nod was all the confirmation she needed as she laced her pinky into yours to subtly pull you through the crowd. God, she was disgusted by pda but you weakened her, and she despised you for it.

In the privacy of her dorm, the gentle rain slapping against the large window, she watched as you shakily exhaled, clearly fighting off your tears as you closed your eyes and struggled to speak. “Today has just…been… a lot. It’s- I- I can’t-“ your voice finally cracked slightly.

Wednesday stood opposite you for a moment, in thought as the scratching of worry in her heart began to pulsate into more of a pain. Not a pleasant pain that she usually experienced, rather a more unpleasant one at the sight of the tear that fell from your eye, hitting the floorboards and disappearing. She felt as if she’d always remember that oddly specific place on the floor from now on.

Stepping forwards she shoved aside all of her disgust and apathy for touch and wrapped her cold arms around your waist to pull you in, your head falling atop of yours as she muttered into your neck, “from what I do know about emotions I have heard that it is a rather healthy way to deal with them by crying.” 

As if on cue from the touch and soft words she felt you slowly fall apart, quietly trembling as you cried silently, burying your face into her hair that she silently noted to wash later to get any snot out of.

She slowly brought you down to the floor with her, letting you cry as she tried her best to comfort you, tracing small patterns on your collarbone and neck, giving you small and delicate kisses here and there as to show that she was here with you. When your sobs began to ease she felt your weight press against her more, and she quickly put together that you were exhausted. She shushed you softly, letting you burrow into her as much as you needed. God, you were so warm, it was as if you were thawing the ice that she had worked so hard to freeze. 

Although still not inclined to show any major affection, she did press a small cold kiss to your temple, letting you rest in her arms as your head shifted into your lap and her hand threaded its way into your hair, slowly and softly stroking in an effort to calm you down, finally the nagging confusion and frustration easing as you both fell into a calm, the rain providing a soothing atmosphere. 

Perhaps Enid’s teachings had paid off.

[mcntsee]

lovey-dovey

Summary: 5 times the crows had to deal with their friends in love and 1 time they helped.

Warning: This is very ooc. Maybe some curses here and there, Kaz is ok with y/n’s touch.

The time they got caught:

In the dim-lit expanse of Kaz’s office, the air was thick with a shared secret that bound him and Y/N together. For two years, their love had been a whispered mystery concealed from the rest of the crows. Y/N sat comfortably in a chair, the soft light casting a warm glow on her features. Across from her, Kaz leaned against his desk with his customary confidence, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity only she could provoke.

Words flowed between them like a quiet river, a mixture of plans and reminiscences. Y/N’s fingers traced patterns on the edge of the chair, her voice a low murmur. Kaz’s lips quirked into a rare semblance of a smile as he listened, his eyes never leaving her face.

As time passed, the conversation grew softer, more intimate. Y/N’s laughter tinkled through the air, and Kaz’s usual aloofness seemed to melt away in her presence. A palpable tension built between them until, almost imperceptibly, Y/N pushed her chair back and stood. With a few purposeful strides, she closed the distance between them.

Kaz’s lean frame pressed against the desk, their proximity crackling with unspoken desire. As her fingers threaded through his dark hair, their lips met in a fervent kiss, a culmination of years of hidden affection. Their mouths moved in a dance of longing, the world outside fading into insignificance.

But the fragile bubble of their moment was unexpectedly shattered by the intrusion of the creaking door. “Hey boss—” Jesper’s voice started, but it trailed off in shocked surprise as his eyes fell upon the scene before him. Kaz and Y/N tore apart, the sudden separation leaving them breathless and disheveled.

Kaz’s gloved hands moved to smooth his already impeccable coat, his voice a mix of frustration and chagrin, “Jesper, I—” Yet the sharpshooter’s eyes held a glint of mirth as he turned on his heel and dashed out of the room, his voice echoing down the corridor, “Nina!”

As the door swung shut, the room remained heavy with the aftermath of their unexpected encounter. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, and Kaz’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “Perhaps it was only a matter of time,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her fingers still tingling from his touch. “I suppose we won’t be keeping our secret any longer.”

And as they straightened their clothes, their love, once veiled in shadows, now stood exposed—an undeniable truth shared among the crows, brought to light by an unexpected interruption.

First time

Several months had passed since the truth of Kaz and Y/N's relationship had been revealed to the crows. Now, gathered around a table for lunch, the camaraderie among the crew was palpable. Y/N sat comfortably, a plate of delectable French toast before her, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee. Kaz occupied the seat next to her, a rare smile gracing his features as he listened to the conversations flowing around the table.

As the crows engaged in their usual banter, Y/N focused on her meal, savoring the flavors. In a moment that felt both intimate and effortless, she raised her fork, a bite of French toast poised on the edge. Without a word, she turned to Kaz, offering the morsel to him. He met her gaze, his expression softening, and he leaned slightly to take the offered bite into his mouth.

Jesper's eyes rolled dramatically at the sight, his voice dripping with playful exasperation. "Ugh, had I known you guys were going to be so lovey-dovey with each other, I would've knocked on the door."

A musical laugh escaped Y/N, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Oh, Jesper, you can't deny that we've brought a little extra excitement into your life." Kaz took a composed sip from Y/N's coffee cup. His tone held a hint of dry humor. "It's your fault, really."

Around the table, chuckles erupted as the crows exchanged knowing glances.

Second time

As the days passed, the grip of the flu began to loosen its hold on the crows. But for Kaz and Y/N, it clung to them stubbornly, refusing to release its grip. The sickness had hit them the hardest, given their close contact with the person who had initially brought it into their midst. Their weakened states were evident as they lay cuddled together on the couch in the Slat, seeking warmth and comfort in each other’s embrace.

Inej’s thoughtful nature led her to offer to venture to the market with Wylan to fetch some much-needed medicine. When they returned, they were greeted by the sight of Y/N and Kaz, entwined in slumber on the couch. The scene was so endearing that Wylan couldn’t resist sharing it with the others. He disappeared upstairs to fetch Jesper, while the others followed suit, curious to see what had captured Wylan’s attention.

As Jesper, Nina, and Matthias descended the stairs, their eyes fell upon the sleeping couple. It was an unusual sight, and Matthias couldn’t help but voice his surprise. “This is very weird. I didn’t even think the Demjin slept.”

The crows nodded in agreement, their curiosity piqued. But just as they were caught in their staring, a voice broke the silence. Y/N, eyes still closed, chimed in with a playful tone, “It’s rude to stare.”

Caught in the act, the crows quickly attempted to act nonchalant, as if they hadn’t been observing the scene. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a soft laugh escaping her as she caught her friends in the midst of their not-so-subtle glances. Her gaze then shifted down to Kaz, his brow damp with fever-induced sweat. With a tenderness that spoke volumes, she leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. Nina couldn’t contain her sentimentality, her voice a mixture of awe and humor. “Ugh, it’s so cute!, I hate it.”

Third time

Far from the bustling heart of the Barrel, Kaz and Y/N found themselves in a serene park, fingers intertwined as they meandered along the winding paths. Y/N abruptly halted beside a sturdy tree, her giggles escaping like the softest notes of a melody. Kaz turned to her with curiosity, his eyes locked onto hers. "What is it, love?"

With a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, Y/N gazed at him with an almost childlike wonder. "When I was little, my friends used to carve hearts with initials in the middle into trees. I never did it because I never loved anyone enough to do it." Her laughter bubbled up again, a carefree sound. "I was just thinking about how utterly silly it would be for you and me to carve our initials."

Kaz regarded her with a fondness that reached deep into his eyes, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. Y/N let out a contented sigh, taking his hand to continue their stroll. But Kaz didn't move. When she turned to look at him, she found a small smile playing at his lips and a pocket knife in his hand.

Y/N gasped in excitement and rushed to embrace him. Kaz, laughing softly, returned her hug. They made their way to the tree, and with careful precision, they carved their initials within a freshly formed heart.

Days later, Y/N and Jesper found themselves walking through the same park, bags brimming with stolen goods from a successful heist. Laughter flowed easily between them, the spoils of their venture contributing to their buoyant spirits.

As they passed by the tree, Y/N's gaze lingered on it for a moment, a subtle smile gracing her lips. Jesper, noticing her gaze, couldn't resist asking, "What?" Y/N tried to dismiss it with a casual wave, saying, "Oh, nothing." But her words didn't deter Jesper's sharp eyes.

"For fuck's sake!" Jesper exclaimed, throwing his hand in the air as he spotted the freshly carved heart and initials. "Really?" Y/N simply shrugged, her smile unapologetic. Jesper couldn't resist the urge to tease. "How on earth did you get ‘big boss man’ to do that?" Y/N's laughter rang out melodiously. "Charming smile?"

Their laughter intertwined, and Jesper playfully warned, "When we get back, I'm going to tease Kaz mercilessly." Y/N couldn't help but grin mischievously. "It's your head on the line, not mine."

Fourth time

For the past couple of weeks, Y/N had been on a job that took her to Shu Han. Today, her return was imminent, and the anticipation was palpable. Kaz couldn’t contain his excitement, and the crows couldn’t help but tease him for his uncharacteristic behavior. He seemed like “a child on Christmas morning”, but he brushed off their playful jabs with a hint of a smile.

As Y/N’s boat approached, Kaz abruptly stood, his eyes fixed on the pocket watch in his hand. With a sense of determination, he turned to the crows. “I’m going to pick her up.”

Their smiles grew knowing and indulgent. Wylan, seizing an opportunity, stood up as well. “Mind if I tag along? I need to grab a few things from the market on the way.” Kaz nodded. “Of course.”

Together, they made a quick stop at the market. As Wylan settled the purchases, he couldn’t help but notice Kaz’s constant glances at his pocket watch. It was a subtle sign of the anxiety that had gripped the usually composed leader.

Once their errands were complete, they resumed their path to the harbor. They stood there, waiting for Y/N, engaging in a subdued conversation. When the boat came into view, Wylan observed something rare—a sense of relief washed over Kaz, his shoulders visibly relaxing, and a small, genuine smile gracing his lips.

Then, Y/N emerged from the boat’s entrance, her eyes scanning the crowd. When she spotted Kaz, a rush of emotion overtook her, and she navigated through the bustling crowd to reach him. Without hesitation, she leaped into his arms, and they embraced tightly. Wylan watched, a smile on his face, as the couple lingered in the warmth of their reunion.

Finally, they shared a kiss that spoke volumes—affection, longing, and the relief of being together once again. It was a moment that melted Wylan’s heart. “Ew, get a room.”

Fifth time

The once unbreakable bond between Kaz and Y/N had hit a rocky patch. Their problems, which had been growing quietly between them, began to surface in the form of heated arguments. These disputes echoed behind the walls of their shared room, the muffled sounds of their fights a stark contrast to the harmony that once defined the crows' hideout.

Kaz and Y/N believed that their issues remained hidden from their friends, but the crows weren't oblivious to the shifts in their dynamics. It was subtle things at first. They noticed that Kaz and Y/N no longer sat side by side during meals, nor did they share their food with each other like they used to. The intimacy that had once characterized their relationship seemed to be slipping away.

The tension in the room was palpable when Kaz and Y/N were in each other's presence. Conversations would stutter, laughter would falter, and even their daring heists seemed to lack their usual cohesion.

As the crows sat in hushed conversation about Kaz and Y/N’s strained relationship, the sounds of their argument in the adjacent room grew increasingly heated. Jesper broke the silence, his brow furrowed in concern. “Whatever happened to them?”Inej merely shrugged. “No idea.”

Their contemplative silence was shattered by the escalating volume of Kaz and Y/N’s voices. The tension in the room thickened as the cacophony of their argument intensified. It was then that Matthias, wearing a concerned expression, voiced his thoughts. “I hope they’re alright. The Demjin was more likable when he was with her.”

Nina, her gaze fixed on the room where the fight was taking place as if searching for answers, nodded in agreement. “They are perfect for each other. My parents better figure things out.”Wearing a puzzled expression, Matthias asked, “Parents?” His lack of comprehension prompted laughter from Wylan and Jesper.

Nina began to explain what she meant when her words were abruptly cut off by the unmistakable sound of a door being slammed shut, making them all flinch. Their attention shifted abruptly to the staircase as they watched Y/N rush down, tears streaming down her face, a coat clutched tightly in one hand.

Jesper called out, his voice laced with worry, “Love?” But Y/N ignored them, brushing past the crows and stepping out into the unknown, leaving a cloud of tension and uncertainty in her wake.

one time

The atmosphere within the Slat had grown increasingly heavy over the past three weeks. The night Y/N had left with tears in her eyes, something had shattered between her and Kaz. Shortly after, the group found out that the couple had decided to part ways, putting an end to their relationship. Since then, nothing had been the same.

Kaz, who usually kept his vices in check, was drinking more than ever. He barely left his room, and when he did, it was clear that he was consumed by his own thoughts. Y/N, on the other hand, had withdrawn into herself. She ate little, spoke even less, and the vibrant spirit she once possessed seemed to have dimmed.

The crows had initially believed it was best to let Kaz and Y/N sort out their issues on their own. But as the days turned into weeks it had become painfully clear that their friends were spiraling deeper into despair, and the crew could no longer bear to witness their suffering. Something needed to be done to mend the fractured bond between their leader and the one who had always held his heart.

As the crows sat around the table, the weight of Kaz and Y/N's broken relationship pressing upon them, Nina finally voiced what had been on everyone's mind. "We need a plan. I can't wait any longer for them to fix things." Agreement rippled through the group, the frustration and concern shared among them palpable. After a moment of contemplative silence, Wylan broke the quiet with a suggestion that hung in the air like a daring challenge. "What about locking them in a room with no way out until they fix their relationship?"

Before anyone could respond, Inej interjected, her voice calm and reasoned. "Kaz will find a way out. There's no amount of locks that could keep him locked in." The crows exchanged disappointed glances, acknowledging the truth in Inej's words. Nina, however, was undeterred. "How about we don't lock them in, but we get them together? Maybe the awkwardness will make them talk?" Her voice held a hint of uncertainty. Jesper was quick to dismiss the idea, "I don't think any amount of awkwardness could make them talk, especially not Kaz."

The group continued to brainstorm, ideas flowing freely, each seeming more promising than the last. But each time, someone was quick to shut down the suggestion with a valid explanation. Just as they were on the brink of giving up, Matthias spoke up, catching everyone off guard. "What if we kidnap her?" The crows collectively exclaimed, "What?"

Matthias chuckled at their confusion before elaborating on his plan. "We kidnap Y/N without her knowing it's us. Then, we tell Kaz." The group was beginning to catch on, their curiosity piqued. Matthias continued, "Depending on their reactions, we can know the truth." Jesper tilted his head in confusion. "Know the truth?"

Matthias nodded, "Maybe they don't love each other anymore, or maybe they do. I'm assuming we'll find out based on their reaction to our plan."

The crows exchanged glances, their intrigue growing into excitement. Matthias had proposed a daring plan, one that might reveal whether there was still love between Kaz and Y/N, or if their paths had truly diverged. It was a plan that, if executed well, could mend their broken hearts and restore the harmony within their group. “Let’s figure this out then.”

A week had passed since the crows had devised their plan to kidnap Y/N. They had hired three individuals to carry out the abduction, ensuring that her head remained covered by a bag throughout the ordeal. Once the “abduction” was completed, Matthias and Jesper handed over the payment to the hired individuals and transported Y/N to Leila's house, an old college friend of Jesper's. They locked her in the basement still blindfolded and made their way back to the club.

Back at the Crow Club, tension hung heavy in the air as the rest of the crew awaited news. Soon enough, the pair burst through the front door. Jesper exchanged a nod with Inej, a silent understanding passing between them. With a determined expression, Inej ascended the stairs and knocked on Kaz's door. Without waiting for an invitation, she entered, immediately facing Kaz's irritation. "Inej-" he began, his voice carrying a note of annoyance, "Y/N is gone." Kaz's irritation was quickly replaced with worry as his eyes met Inej's. "What do you mean, gone?"

Inej proceeded to recount the story they had crafted together, just as the crows had planned. "She left the club hours ago. I offered to go with her, but she declined, saying she was just going back to the Slat." Kaz's back stiffened at the news, his concern deepening. "Maybe she deviated from her original plan, Inej," he suggested, trying to find a logical explanation.

Inej, a little taken aback by his dismissal, continued, "We thought the same but-" Kaz interrupted her, his curiosity piqued. "We?"

Inej nodded solemnly and reached into her bag, retrieving a familiar scarf. “We. The crows, Kaz.”It was Y/N's scarf, the one Kaz had gifted her their first Christmas, now stained with blood. She presented it to him, her voice heavy with sorrow. "We looked for her everywhere. This is the only thing we found." The room seemed to close in on them as Kaz stared at the bloody scarf in disbelief, a sinking feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Kaz’s desperation was palpable as he clutched Y/N’s blood-stained scarf, his voice strained with urgency. “How long ago?” Inej, following the plan meticulously, tilted her head in apparent confusion. “How long ago did you find this, Inej?” Kaz’s desperation was growing, and he needed to gauge the situation.

Inej chose her words carefully, aware of the delicate balance they needed to maintain. “About an hour ago,” she replied evenly. Kaz’s voice grew louder, frustration and concern bubbling to the surface. “An hour ago, and you’re just telling me now?” Inej stood her ground, her eyes meeting his with unwavering determination. She shrugged, her tone firm yet holding a hint of sadness. “We didn’t know what to do, Kaz. Not when it came to you two, not after the breakup.”

As Kaz looked at Inej, a flicker of sadness crossed his eyes. It was a difficult moment, a reminder of the pain they had all been enduring. Finally, he made a decisive decision. “Gather the crows. We’re going to find her.” The urgency in his voice was met with a nod from Inej, who turned to carry out his command.

As Inej left Kaz’s room, she looked over the railing and down to the first floor, her gaze falling upon the eager faces of the crows who had gathered there. With a smile that held both relief and determination, she raised her thumb in a triumphant gesture, signaling to the others that their plan was well underway.

The crows below caught her signal, and a wave of enthusiasm washed over them. Smiles broke out on their faces, and some couldn’t resist the urge to return the thumbs up, a silent affirmation that their daring plan was indeed progressing as intended.

With the initial celebration complete, Inej waved her hand and raised two fingers, silently indicating that it was time to proceed with the second part of their meticulously crafted plan.

One by one, the crows began making their way up the stairs to Kaz's office, their movements deliberately slow to avoid arousing suspicion. Inej led the way, returning to Kaz's side as the others followed. As the group assembled inside the office, a sense of tension hung in the air. Jesper, adopting a grave tone, addressed Kaz. "Boss?" Kaz turned to face his crew, his expression expectant. "All of you, tell me everything you know."

The crows nodded in unison, each member prepared to recite their part in the carefully concocted story. One by one, they recounted the various fabricated details they had created during the planning stages. Wylan, his nerves palpable, was the last to speak. He cleared his throat and, with great conviction, said, "There's a chance that Y/N might've used my Glownie powder."

Kaz's interest was piqued, and he signaled for Wylan to continue. "A couple of days ago," Wylan elaborated, "I gave her this new powder I created. If we're lucky, Y/N might've had it with her and used it to leave a trail when she was taken."

Jesper offered Wylan a reassuring pat on the back, while Nina posed a crucial question. "How do we know if she used it?" Wylan cleared his throat once more before explaining, "It glows when Germin is added to it. We could go back to where her scarf was found, and I could put some drops on the floor to see if it glows." The cogs of the plan were turning smoothly.

With Wylan’s revelation about the Glownie powder, the crows wasted no time. They retraced their steps to the location where Y/N’s scarf had been “found.” The tension in the air was palpable as they gathered around, their eyes fixed on the floor.

Wylan, steady and careful, dropped a few drops of the solution onto the floor. After a brief moment, a soft glow began to emanate from one of the drops. Wylan turned to face Kaz, his expression triumphant. “There! She used it.” Kaz visibly relaxed, his concern momentarily assuaged. “Go on, then,” he urged, giving Wylan the go-ahead to continue.

Wylan proceeded to pour more of the glowing solution onto the floor, and as it started to illuminate the path, the crows followed the trail with unwavering determination. Kaz believed they were following the traces left by Y/N, unaware that it was a fabricated trail laid out by Nina just hours before.

Not long after, the crows found themselves in front of Leila’s house, as they made their way closer, Five guards attacked the group. The crows, in accordance with their well-rehearsed plan, sprang into action. Each member engaged in combat, swiftly taking on one of the guards with their honed skills. Kaz, the only one not entangled in battle, remained on high alert.

Amidst the intense clash of combat, Nina’s voice pierced through the noise. “We’ve got it, go find Y/N!” Kaz scanned the scene one last time, ensuring the safety of his crew, before he took off running toward the house.

Kaz ventured further into the darkened house, his heart pounding in his chest as he called out for Y/N, his voice carrying a mix of hope and trepidation. The silence that followed was unnerving, pushing him to press on.

He continued to navigate the unfamiliar surroundings, each step echoing through the quiet house as he called Y/N's name again and again, his voice a lifeline in the darkness.

Eventually, he stumbled upon the basement door. He pushed it open with care, its creaking hinges the only sound in the stillness. As he descended the stairs, Kaz kept repeating Y/N's name, his concern growing with every step.

"Love?" he called out as he reached the bottom, and a muffled response reached his ears. A surge of relief washed over him as he quickly scanned the dimly lit basement, ensuring they were alone. He hurried over to where Y/N was seated, her eyes covered.

With deft fingers, Kaz removed the blindfold, revealing Y/N's eyes. "You're okay, love," he assured her, his voice a mixture of relief and tenderness. Y/N let out a sigh of relief, her voice trembling as she said his name.

Kaz wasted no time in freeing her from the handcuffs, helping her to her feet. Y/N wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, and Kaz held her close, his concern evident in his voice as he asked, "What happened, love?"

As Y/N began to recount her experience to Kaz, he listened intently, a mix of sadness and anger in his eyes. Her story of being ambushed in the market weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't help but feel responsible for her safety. But-

"The market?" Kaz's voice held a note of realization as he pieced together the information. Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "Yes, the market. And then I was here," she added, her voice tinged with uncertainty about their current location. “Whatever here is.”

Kaz's sharp gaze swept across the basement, his mind working to make sense of the situation. The market was nowhere near where her scarf had been found, a discrepancy that raised questions. However, he pushed aside his doubts for the moment, focusing on their need to leave.

"Let's go, love," Kaz said, taking Y/N's hand. Hand in hand, they made their way outside, where they found the rest of the crows encircled by the unconscious bodies of their “attackers”. Relief washed over the group, and Y/N was greeted with hugs and excited welcomes.

As they began the journey back to the Slat, Kaz turned to Wylan, acknowledging the effectiveness of his Glownie powder. "Wylan, you should make more of that powder. It helped a lot today."

Wylan, eager to divert the conversation, chuckled nervously. "Yeah, of course," he agreed hastily. However, Y/N, curious, looked back and inquired about the mysterious powder.

Kaz halted their progress, releasing Y/N's hand and turning to face the group. "Wylan, care to explain what powder we're talking about?"

The crows exchanged anxious glances, their secrecy now exposed. Wylan stammered, "Glownie?" making it sound like a question, followed by a nervous chuckle.

Kaz's irritation was palpable as he responded with a curt "Right." He shot a brief, disapproving look at the rest of the group before turning back to Y/N and extending his hand, which she took with a smile.

Back at the club, Kaz requested Y/N’s presence in his office, and she agreed. They ascended the stairs together, and once inside Kaz’s office, Y/N settled into a chair while Kaz leaned against his desk. A silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Breaking the silence, Y/N voiced her question, her eyes searching Kaz’s. “It was them, wasn’t it?”Kaz nodded slowly. “I believe so, yes.”

Y/N’s laughter, tinged with amusement, washed over the room, and it was like music to Kaz’s ears. “For such a great plan, they definitely could’ve planned some stuff better,” she commented, her tone light, bringing a smile to Kaz’s face – a smile that hadn’t graced his lips since their breakup.

After a brief pause, Y/N cleared her throat and said “I should leave now.” before making a move to leave. However, before she could open the door, Kaz’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Stay.”

Y/N turned back to face him, sadness in her eyes, and asked, “What for?” In that moment, Kaz hesitated, his mind racing with unspoken sentiments. What was he supposed to say? That his hard days are easier because of her? That talking to her makes everything feel better? That he admires her strength? Her kindness? Perhaps her unique perspective on the world. That when he is near her, the ghosts of his past become a gentle whispers within the chambers of his mind, their haunting presence neutralized by the soothing sound of his thumping heart. That he still needs her. That he still loves her.

“I’ve let my ego guard my heart. I’ve stopped myself from admitting that I miss and need you. I am entirely afraid of my own heart but I know that it wants you. I want you, I love you.”

With every word that came out of his lips, Y/N drew closer. Her eyes held a softness that mirrored Kaz’s own, and without the need for more words or explanations, their lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

Kaz’s frame leaned against the desk, and his arms enveloped Y/N’s waist, drawing her closer to him. A content sigh escaping his lips.

Bonus

“Oh my saints! This is so cute!”Nina exclaimed, and her sentiment was met with a harmonious chorus of agreement and awe from the rest of the crows. Kaz found himself seated at the center of the table, surrounded by his team which had been lavishing him with compliments for the past thirty something minutes.

This whirlwind of emotions and affection had erupted after Kaz's revelation that he was planning to propose to Y/N. It had been two years since their tumultuous breakup and eventual reconciliation, and for the past year, Kaz had been carrying an engagement ring with him, waiting for the perfect moment.

Kaz's patience was wearing thin with their teasing and admiration, and he finally spoke up with a serious tone. "Will you help or not?" he asked, his gaze sweeping the table. The group fell silent and Jesper couldn't resist adding a touch of humor to the moment. "You sure you want our help after the ass-chewing we got from you almost two years ago for our 'terrible planned plan'?" he quipped.

Kaz's gaze held steady as he met the expectant eyes of his friends. "I do," he affirmed, and a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “Save that for the wedding.” Inej's playful comment elicited a chuckle from the room.

A week had passed since the crows huddled together, weaving the threads of a heartfelt proposal plan for Kaz to present to Y/N. On the morning of the proposal, the atmosphere in the Slat was as ordinary as any other day. The crows sat around the table, sharing breakfast and carrying brief conversations as they usually did. After their meal, they dispersed, each going their separate ways, preparing for what they hoped would be a day to remember.

Once Kaz and Y/N returned to their room, they engaged in a simple, easy conversation. The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. They spoke of inconsequential things, savoring the comfort of each other's presence. As time passed, Kaz's gaze fell to his pocket watch, his steady facade revealing a hint of nerves. His eyes then drifted toward the window, where the world beyond beckoned.

Breaking the silence, Kaz remarked, "It's a nice day," his voice holding a hint of understated excitement. Y/N responded with an agreeable hum, matching his sentiment.

Kaz couldn't help but smile at her response. "Shall we go for a walk?" he proposed, his heart dancing with anticipation.

Y/N's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she readily agreed. Their laughter filled the room as Kaz grabbed his coat, and they made their way outside, hand in hand. Their steps led them through familiar streets until they found themselves standing at the entrance of the park that held a special place in both their hearts.

Hand in hand, they ventured inside, cherishing the serenity of the park. Unbeknownst to Y/N, Kaz gently guided them toward a particular tree, one with a history known only to the two of them… And Jesper, and probably the rest of the crows. But, it was the tree where, years ago, they had carved their initials inside a heart, sealing their love in a silent promise.

Y/N was lost in conversation, the world around her a tranquil backdrop to their shared moments. It wasn't until she reached the heart-carved tree that her words faded into an astonished silence. There, before her eyes, the tree was adorned with twinkling fairy lights, casting a magical glow. Beneath it lay a soft blanket, a picnic basket filled with delectable food and wine, surrounded by a sea of vibrant, blooming flowers.

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat, and she turned to Kaz, a question forming on her lips. But before she could utter a word, her gaze met Kaz, who had gracefully descended to one knee. In his trembling hand, he held a ring. “Kaz-“ said Y/n, hand coming up to cover her mouth, eyes watery.

“You once told me that you had never carved your initials on a tree before because you hadn’t found a love worth immortalizing. Well, I have, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you that our initials should be carved in every tree there is, not just this one.” he began, his gaze never wavering from hers, “from the moment I met you, my life took a turn I could have never predicted. You brought light into the darkest corners of my world. You showed me a kind of love that was previously unimaginable, and you became my anchor in a sea of chaos.”

His fingers trembled slightly as he continued, “We’ve faced challenges, trials that would have shattered most, but we emerged stronger each time. We’ve laughed together, cried together, and even fought with each other, but through it all, our love has remained unwavering.”

Kaz’s voice grew softer, the hint of sadness lingering as he spoke of their past. “I know there have been moments of doubt, times when I failed you, when I pushed you away because I was afraid. But through it all, you stayed by my side, never giving up on me, on us.”

“Love, I can’t imagine a world without you in it. So, with all the love that resides in my heart, all the love you’ve patiently nurtured, I ask you this…”

He paused, his voice unsteady, his eyes shimmering with raw emotion. “Will you marry me, Y/N?” As the weight of his words hung in the air, Kaz held his breath, waiting for her answer, praying with all his heart to all the saint he didn’t believe in that she would say yes and become his forever.

With a radiant smile, Y/N answered, “Yes, Kaz, a thousand times yes.”

Kaz’s eyes gleamed with joy as he slid the ring onto her finger, a perfect fit. Standing up slowly, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her, capturing her lips in a tender, love-filled kiss. The world seemed to fade away for that moment, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of their love.

But just as they kissed, a sudden eruption of cheers, shouts, and laughter shattered the serenity. Out of nowhere, the crows appeared, jubilantly celebrating the moment. They clapped Kaz on the back, patted Y/N’s shoulder, and hooted with joy, their happiness infectious.

Kaz and Y/N couldn’t help but flinch at the unexpected celebration, but as they looked around at the beaming faces of their friends, they couldn’t help but smile. After all, they are the ones that dealt with all their ups and downs of their relationship.

[lustkillers]

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ me and the devil.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - you've devoted your life to the man above, the one you call your savior. you resisted the temptation of man, yet there was this void that needed to be filled. perhaps the devil you call 'jack' can fill that very void.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - jack thurlow x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw, dom!jack, sub!reader, religious!reader, ooc jack? reader is described wearing a dress, p in v, couch sex, corruption kink, virginity loss, religious imagery, slight sadism, creampie, overstimulation, humiliation, fingering, degradation, exhibitionism? (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - happy new years from me to you! enjoy the start of 2024 with a couple of fics/blurbs or however you wanna call them! love u all <3

a silver, dainty cross sat on top of your chest as you typed away on the computer across the broken cubicle of the man you called the devil.

jack thurlow was his name, and you were punished by god himself for the sins you've done when you were younger. now, it caught up to you, and you hated it. what sucked more was that the border between his cubicle and yours was torn down, so every time you looked up, his face would be there. you knew that hate was a strong word, but you had to say it. you had to say:

"i hate you." you mumbled, a stern look on your face. but that look only looked stupid in jack's eyes. he thought it was a pathetic attempt in trying to stand your ground, and it only fueled you more.

he only raised an eyebrow, looking at you with the same monotone look he always had. “you tell me that every day.” he replied, making you grip the bottom of your pretty white dress in anger.

"i swear to—"

"who are you swearing to, huh?" he cut you off, making you whimper a little in response.

that shut you up immediately, making you fiddle with the ends of your dress. as much as you didn’t want to talk back, jack was making it harder and harder. he knew how to push your buttons, and wasn’t afraid to do so. he’d always have this one goal: to break you.

you were the office's 'pretty little thing,' a running "joke" that the men in the office would partake in. they would talk about how "innocent" and god ridden you were, and they all wanted to corrupt your innocence, your faith. jack had never partook in such activities, let alone ever converse with the men in the office, except for when his coworkers would ask if he'd like a cup of coffee, he'd always decline.

"answer me." he pushed the subject on you, and just as you were deciding what to say, the clock hit eight pm. you only sent him a soft smile, your plump, pink lips curving upwards.

you fluttered your eyelashes at him, tilting your head. "have a good night, jack!" you were packing all your stuff, your breasts bouncing a bit, making the cross necklace that sat on your chest move along. that alone made his eyes avert to your breasts, eying the way they move.

he had thought how you were a woman of god, yet wearing skimpy clothing that made everyone at the office have a hard-on. just how naive were you?

however, it was also time for jack to clock out as well, him falling along. the rain outside poured harder, and he was trailing behind you as you exited the building, your dress hiking up every step in your walk. he stared for quite sometime, before being broken out of his thoughts.

"i'd hate to be a bother, but could you drive me home, jack?" you asked so sweetly, it was almost intoxicating to him. he wanted to say 'no' so bad, yet something about you captivated him. it was a sick feeling in his heart, watching as you stood there so innocently, holding a pretty pink umbrella.

he stared at you for a few seconds, before letting out a sigh. "sure."

☆

he didn't know how he ended up here, but he was now in your apartment, photo frames of you and your family spread along the wall, including statues and photo frames of god. the last supper was hung on top of the kitchen frame, facing the dining table, which only had five chairs surrounding the rectangular table.

you were babbling about your home and god, but that was all white noise. your babbling was just nonsense to him until you had said that you'd never had virginity taken. a bit tmi, but you said it so casually.

"you've never had a boyfriend?" he blurted out, making you stop talking.

"i never said that," you replied, your doe eyes looking into his blank ones. "i said that i never had sex." the word sex made you cringe, but you had to state your point.

"how come?" he inquired, a bunch of thoughts swarming his head, and they were not pure ones.

a moment of silence exchanged between them, before you quietly spoke up. "i'm saving myself for marriage." ah, the classic response. yet, it boggled him. he knew that you were a naive and kind girl, but never realized how dedicated you could be. "i want to make sure that my first time is meaningful with the person i'm going to spend the rest of my life with."

he slowly tilted his head, "but aren't you curious?" he inched towards you, making you stand there, your face slightly burning.

"e-excuse me?" you questioned. you knew exactly what he was talking about, and you were curious. but you knew where your loyalties lied, with the man upstairs.

he let out a scoff, "don't act stupid. you're not five years old. you know exactly what i'm talking about."

you felt your core pulse with eagerness, and it hurt. a strange sensation pooled between your thighs, and your breathing quickly increasing with every step he took towards you. maybe you would risk faith for him.

he placed his calloused hand on your hips, tracing down to your ass, making you jump from his touch. he left goosebumps all around your arms, your pupils dilating by the second. he had this effect on you, and you hated it. you hated how the sacred photos were staring you both at this very moment.

within seconds, his lips collided with yours, making you yelp. you automatically melted into his touch, your knees buckling at the moment. his kisses were harsh, and you couldn't keep up with it.

as he kissed you, his hands traveled to your soaked panties, a whimper escaping your lips, followed by a gasp. "jack..." you breathlessly sighed, your hand on his wrist, but not stopping him.

his rough hands pushed you lightly onto the couch, him hovering above you. jack's hand pulled your panties to the side, his hands covered with your slick. his thumb rubbed your clit, jolting your body upwards, closing your thighs together.

"oh, please! jack!" you cried out, the feeling twisting knobs in your stomach.

he pulled your thighs apart, slapping the inside of your right thigh. "don't." he whispered, his lips millimeters away from yours.

his fingers plunged into your soaking cunt, making you squeal at the uncomfortableness that plowed inside of you. he went at a medium to fast pace, the uncomfortableness turning into moments of pleasure, but it made you squirm away, the feeling too much.

"aw," he cooed, "what? can't take my fingers?" he mocked, holding your thighs apart. you cried out, feeling the knot in your stomach slowly coming undone.

"please, please, please, jack!" you moaned out, "i need to- i need to-"

you didn’t know what was happening, but your thighs shook and you were seeing white. before you knew it, you came undone by his fingers.

the feeling of you tightening on his fingers made his cock twitch, straining against the fabric of his jeans. he was painfully hard, and he needed to fill you. his pants were unzipped and his cock was free from the blockage of fabric. his cock prodded at your entrance, making you look down with eyes slightly widened.

"no, no, no... that won't fit..." you whispered, scared of his cock inside your tight walls.

jack looked up at the cross hung up in front of the couch, letting out a cocky smile. "i think god will let it fit, don't you?"

you hummed in response, but eventually nodded.

he entered your wet, tight cunt, groaning at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him. you let out a wail, the pain searing at your core. he was still inside, letting you adjust to his cock. "you ready f'me, hun?"

you nodded, quietly hissing as he pulled out and plunged back in. it was repeated thrusts over and over again, your pain soon turning into pleasure. he laughed to himself over the fact that you were so in touch with god, yet committing an act of blasphemy in front of him.

you let out whines and moans, the cross between your chest bouncing up and down from the thrusts. you clawed at his chest as he pounded into you, over and over again.

"look at you," he leaned up against your ear, "getting fucked in front of god." his words sent you into a spiral, drawing you closer to the edge. you moaned at his words, but you wished you didn't. it was all so wrong... but it felt so right.

tears welled up in your eyes as the euphoric feeling happened again, "i-it's happening again, jack! oh, please..." you whimpered, your legs trembling again.

"cum for me. cum for your god." he groaned out, cumming into your wet cunt. the feeling made your stomach feel full, a whine drawing from your lips as he pulled out, watching the white fluid drip down your pussy and onto the black couch.

you were definitely going to repent for your sins.

[togenabi]

throwing pebbles because I love you

megumi fushiguro x reader (royalty au)

♡—Whenever the night is clear, and the wind blows softly, Megumi throws rocks at your window.

word count♡— 2.3k words

genre♡— fluff, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— childhood frenemies to lovers, megumi throws rocks, no use of y/n, mc is a bit of a snob, very fluff, secret codes, confessions, not really proofread, megumi is ooc I'm sorry TvT

author's note♡— I really didn't mean to make my second royalty au to also be related to windows, but here we are. (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) no windows were harmed in the making of this fic.

The first time it happened, it was an accident. You were both eight.

Their royal highnesses, prince Megumi and prince Yuji, were staying over at your family's estate as guests. Your mother was a royal through and through, having descended from the greater empire then married into a neighboring kingdom's duchy. After your father passed, she never remarried; choosing instead to focus on serving the kingdom as the perfect duchess.

She never forced you to take on too many responsibilities, despite her own workaholic tendencies. Your mother had simply let you be a child. Eventually, you learned to be extremely grateful she let you grow into your own person.

For now though, you were eight. And some kid just threw a pebble at your very pretty window.

You throw it back at him.

“Ow!” The kid cries as he rubs his forehead, on which a mark has begun to redden. “Hey! Mine was an accident!”

“You still did it!” You say, pointing at the dent he caused while looking down at him from the windowsill. “My response was your consequence.”

The both of you glower at each other until you realize how far he is. “What were you doing throwing rocks at my manor anyway?”

The kid suddenly looks sheepish as his eyes turn to anywhere but you. “My friend needed rocks for some game he made up, and he bet he could catch all of them.” You notice he starts glaring ahead of him at the ground level, so you lean down—out of the window, to follow his gaze. Your eyes catch a head of pink hair before it runs away.

Realizing these two were the royal guests everyone was fussing about, you scoff. “That's hardly very princely of the two of you.”

He bristles. “Is that how you act towards the prince of the kingdom you serve?!”

“I'll greet you properly when our interaction doesn't begin with a pebble being thrown.” You say as you begin closing the window, throwing on a smile just to mess with him more. “Have a pleasant evening.”

You got terribly sick not long after that, and you never saw him for the rest of that summer. The duchess had forbidden visitors unless absolutely necessary so that you could recover quickly.

Prince Megumi fades into your memory, turning into one that you recall only when you spot that dent on your window frame.

You never made the effort to have it repaired, for some reason.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

You're fifteen, hiding in your room as a ball rages downstairs. Your maids would be distraught if they caught you, donning your best clothes, yet curled up on the couch with a book. No matter, this was the perfect way to spend an evening, in your opinion.

When a pebble glides through your window and lands on the floor nearby, you look at it incredulously.

‘This feels strangely familiar...’ But you decide to ignore it, your position on the couch is much too comfortable to leave. You resume reading.

But another rock comes in. Then another.

“Tsk!” Snapping your book shut, you spring up and finally look outside the window. Your eyes meet a certain familiar prince, holding even more rocks in his hands.

You frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “This time's deliberate, then?”

“I'm sorry but I need to hide! Please help me—could I come up?” His voice is urgent, and it's only then that you notice the state of his clothes. They were filthy, and part of his coat sleeve blooms red.

Without thinking further, you push a mechanism hidden beneath a flower pot by your window. A rope ladder immediately falls to the ground outside. Megumi is stunned for a moment before reaching for it, and you wonder if he had planned to climb the vines painfully when he asked to come up.

You assist by pulling him once he's within arm's reach, and he collapses into your room with a loud groan. You slam your hand on the mechanism again, and the rope reels back into place.

He looks exhausted, but you have to make him get up. You're not sure how you would move him to the couch if he fainted.

“Stand up for me, please.” You plead with him. “At least to the couch.”

Megumi's breaths are labored as he glances towards the couch. He closes his eyes and groans louder as he gets up and walks slowly, leaning on you the whole time.

He's out like a light once he lies down. Your first instinct is to go get help, but it hits you that you have no idea who Megumi was running from. It dawns on you that if he could ask help from a professional, especially one nearer the palace, he would have. It could be dangerous for anyone else to know he's here.

You purse your lips as you think, and reach for a medical journal on your shelf. You must do your best to tend to his wounds on your own while he rests.

Megumi looks so peaceful as he sleeps. He looks the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you're thankful he's at least comfortable. While his wounds weren't that deep, he was probably running for a while, which had exhausted and strained him further.

You're cleaning up the medical supplies you used when Megumi regains consciousness for a moment.

“...Thank you.” Megumi's eyes reflect how truly grateful he is. He croaks out the words despite the toll on him. He even grasps your hand dearly.

You clear your throat and look away, but your ears clearly turn red. “If you ever need my help again, just throw a rock. I'll be here.”

That brings a sleepy smile to Megumi's face. “What happened to ignoring me if the encounter starts with a pebble being thrown?”

It takes you a moment to respond. You're not sure what surprises you more, that he remembers your exact words all those years ago, or that he has the gall to crack jokes in his condition.

You stutter out a response lamely to cover up how flustered you are, “I—there can be exceptions, even if it's for you.”

Megumi laughs quietly, and lets out a soft sigh before falling asleep.

You drape a blanket over him as he rests, pausing only to brush his hair away from his eyes.

You don't notice, but the gesture makes Megumi's breathing still for a moment.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

When you're eighteen, your window is severely banged up with dents and scratches. The glass had already broken on more than one occasion, and while of course you had that replaced, the frame stays strong from all the rocks it's been hit with throughout all these years. And, on the day it finally breaks and shatters into spikes, you think you'll make a picture frame out of it.

‘Megumi and I don't have a single nice portrait together, though.’ The thought makes you laugh softly. Both of you weren't exactly exemplary at the frivolous details that come with being nobles, you often helped each other out to skip balls and escape from dreadful hours posing for portraits. But neither of you ever minded.

You bought the most wonderful chair when you were sixteen, you simply melt into it while reading. The best part of it, however, was that you could put it by your window; with the ladder mechanism easy to reach nearby.

Megumi visits less often these days, though. His responsibilities are becoming far too great to leave the palace for too long. He even leaves for other nations and kingdoms sometimes.

But you keep waiting, and he always comes back to you.

A rock clatters into your room and you smile absentmindedly at the sound. You continue reading as your hand moves to trigger the ladder down.

Megumi enters through the window. You'd look at him, but the novel you're reading has suddenly taken an interesting turn, and you're absolutely absorbed into it.

If you had looked up, you would have seen the softest of smiles on Megumi's face.

He approaches and kisses your forehead. By the time you process what happened, he's already walking away as if that was the most normal thing to do. You blink at him in surprise. Megumi only sits on your desk, as he's done so many times before, and begins to do some paperwork he's brought with him.

“What was that?” You ask, still stunned.

“What was what?” Sounds of paper shuffles as he sifts through documents.

“That kiss.”

He pauses.

Your heart seems to rattle in your chest. Were you too blunt? Was it really a normal thing that people like both of you did? Both of you? What were both of you? Does he—

Your thoughts come to an abrupt halt when Megumi smiles, and you finally see that soft and caring smile he saves only for you.

His next words, however, make you throw a pillow at him.

“I'll give you another one later if you liked it that much.”

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

It's late into the evening after Megumi has left. You don't speak of the kiss again, and he doesn't either. Though you already had an inkling of your feelings for Megumi, you've never spoken of or acted upon it.

But tonight suddenly made you question if you should start to.

As you retrieve it, your fingers trace a rough texture on the rock Megumi threw earlier. Turning it over, you read something that seems to be etched into it.

‘TWK—p.402, q.1'

Is it some sort of code? What could this be? Surely Megumi was the one to carve this, but how do you decipher it? You stare at the rock and return to your chair. Before you sit down, however, your eyes catch the cover of the book you were reading...

The Wicked King.

The puzzle pieces click into place. A title, a page number, and a quote! Your fingers flutter to get to page 402, not caring that you haven't actually reached that part of the book yet...

The first line makes you gasp and your heart stutter.

“You are my daylight.”

As you trace the line delicately, you wonder if he's always been doing this. But you would have definitely noticed if he was. The jagged texture of the letters are obvious no matter what way you hold the rock. The others before were always perfectly intact.

Your heart skips a beat again. ‘Then... Does this mean that this is the first, and that he'll leave another code next time?’

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

A month passes, and Megumi has visited you exactly three times since the first rock with a clue.

Though he's visiting less, you're certainly thinking of him more. The messages you decoded all engraved into your mind at this point, with how many times you've read them.

“You are my daylight.”

“May your day be filled with happiness and warmth, as much as you have given to me.”

“My mind has not forgotten how you smiled at me so.”

“Thank you, for being my home.”

You never let on that you cracked the ciphers, however. He hasn't ever mentioned their existence either, but you suspect he knows that you're aware. Especially since he's been acting so much more dearly during his visits.

After writing all the messages down on a sheet of paper, you realize you should give Megumi a reply. But, how should you do it?

Your eyes find the four small rocks on your desk...

Ah, of course! Of course that's the most perfect way!

Your mind whirls with excitement as you rush outside to find a rock. Once you find one, you realize Megumi is the only person you would do this for...

Because you love him.

And that's it, you've decided. That's what you'll tell him, no code needed.

You love prince Megumi.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

‘Is this how he felt, all those times before?’ His window seems so far and almost out of reach. ‘Was he ever this nervous? Nervous that I wouldn't respond?’

You tighten your grip on the pebble. Megumi never had to worry about that. You'd always respond to him no matter what.

And yet, you're nervous as hell, and shaking like a leaf. If you weren't so anxious, you would have laughed at how baffled the palace staff were when you arrived but didn't enter the palace at all.

The head butler looked so confused when you asked to be led to Megumi's window, but you assured him your intentions meant well.

The pebble suddenly feels heavy in your palm, but you hold yourself firm. You blow a kiss on it softly, before beginning to aim.

The pebble flies from your hand. It was a perfect throw that collides with his window loudly before rattling along his balcony floor.

Megumi peeks out carefully, but then brightens up the moment he sees you. He laughs as he waves at you. “It feels so strange to be on the receiving end of the rock.”

You smile shyly up at him. “But, you haven't just been giving me rocks recently, haven't you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, and starts to search your face for any sign of rejection. When he finds none, he looks cautiously optimistic.

“Pick up that rock now, would you?” You say, acting impatient, but your heart is beating eagerly to see his reaction.

He turns this way and that looking for it, and you stop breathing when he finally finds and reaches for it. Once he reads it, he looks at you with a dazed expression. The rock falls from his hold as he quickly jumps over the balcony edge, and lands safely in front of you.

You're about to nag that he nearly gave you a heart attack when he slowly gets on one knee. Your words die in your throat.

Megumi laughs at how stunned you look. “I'd throw this rock at your window, but my family might actually kill me.”

His smile widens as he jokes, “I don't suppose I need to write a code to express what this one means...” He opens a small box to reveal a stunning ring that suits you perfectly.

“Will you marry me?”

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[overtaken-stream]

Thinking about Modern AU!King who is a police officer

This loses its plot... For a reason unclear to me. Also, rats and snitches although annoying are my guilty pleasure characters

Happy Valentine's Day My Pookie(s)!

Also, it's been a minute since I've last written smut, sorry if it's underwhelming and ooc for King, blame it on the stress of having to enforce laws all day.

Warnings: Choking, breeding.

King is an officer in his own right, wearing the black patrol uniform shirt that flexed with his moves, not exactly tight but enough to make the muscles under it visible, the lightweight body armor leaves his hidden underbelly to the imagination.

The officers at the station are jealous of his physique, while women fall over themselves at the sight the man brings. His sense of justice is firm, the way he speaks and treats the criminals he catches is enough for people to swiftly figure it out.

Alber doesn't complain about his job, even when his co-workers encourage it, with that scowl constantly on his face it's hard to differentiate enjoyment from irritation. He is a man of few words outside of work, is what every person thinks. It's what they assume.

They don't know about the bribes he accepts in the alleys when no one is watching, not when the criminal proposing it is shaking in their boots, afraid to say a word about Alber's betrayal of Just, they could never use the blackmail material even if they wanted to.

His co-workers don't know about the second face he puts up in front of them, a mask not much different from the real Alber, but distant, one that can be overshadowed if kept in one place too long.

They don't know about his connections to the underworld, his relation to the King, let alone the Emperor.

There's only one person aside from his Relations who knows of true him.

He arrives without a mask to uncover, a cozy place he calls home awaits for him with open arms.

Your face is bright as you greet him. Arms tight around his neck and your fragrance in his complexion is not enough to distract him from the fact that he can feel your breasts through the layers of clothes separating you two. Your whole body is hanging off of him, yet his muscles are unfazed.

He is home.

! !NSFW! !

The exhaustion in his gut is replaced by a pool of arousal and he can feel his pants tighten.

Only after grabbing your thighs and putting them around his abdomen, does he catch your gaze before firmly latching his lips with yours, tongues intertwined together as you gently cup his face, the soft temptation of your lips swings the craving in front of his face. The mess of saliva is nothing compared to what he wants to do after a frustrating day.

Getting to the bed and not fucking you in the middle of the living room is a hard task to accomplish considering all King wants to do is rip the clothes off and taste the sweet nectar already.

Your back meets the silky sheets and hands tug at King's shirt, eyes glazed over and lips covered in saliva. You are truly an apple of Kings' eyes. In seconds it comes off, leaving the fruits of your labor sprawled on the table as the shirt goes flying off. Not wasting a second, King leans over you, hands grasping at your attire until the nude figure lies before him.

The tips of his eyebrows turn down, framing an evil smirk on his lips, not a single malice could be felt.

You can feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach. Can feel your insides clench down on nothing. Flush rises on your face and in the moment your legs try to close around the hand now resting in front of your heat, but to no avail.

``Don't get shy on me now.``

His two fingers glide slowly on your clit before plunging swiftly inside, picturing your shivering walls is driving him to get on with it, your sweet wail does not help. His lips seal yours shut, stealing sharp hisses from you as he stretches out the fingers and drags them unhurriedly but with pressure out and in. His teeth clash along yours, lips eat away yours until he engulfs you, it's what you feel anyway. His furrowed brows are that much more handsome on his heated face. His passion takes your breath away and blows the air right in.

Digits are knuckle deep as he finally fastens his pace, thumb pressuring your clit and rubbing harshly on the button, you turn your face sideways, mouth agape and eyes shut, with no shame you let loose the sounds that'll make the neighbors turn red and King fall deep into perversion.

``Oh? You like that? Like how my fingers feel?``

Your hips have a mind of their own, chasing the height without your permission. King lets you hump his wrist, too busy shoving one more finger down the pleasure hole and spearing them into you, it touches every right place, pushes on every button, tightening every knot you have and making your eyes water from the ecstasy.

``O-oh-ugh—yesss! Fuck yes...♡``

You barely respond, the loud and wet sounds your pussy emits as his thumb finally pushes on the right angle and keeps it there, giving you the pleasure you've been wanting since you woke up. It snaps the rope holding your body together.

``G-good girl. Fuck...``

Mind blank, a whine emits from your bruised lips, thighs quivering around his wrist, holding him in place as your hips unexpectedly jerk forward, your pussy releases the orgasm with a cloudy hue, glistening around the fingers until King gets himself free and brings his face closer to your opening, it seeps the slick out like drool from your maw. King treasures every drip you produce.

Once you've calmed down you realize that it's rare for him to talk during sex but man should he do it often.

With quick work he gets free of his pants, finally feeling relief and getting unrestricted access to what he wants to do. The deep gulps of air you take are quickly forbidden when his fingers rest on your throat, wet and smelling of your sex. The gentle touch almost makes your eyes roll.

He is so impossibly close, resting his whole body on top of you, all the while holding himself up by the elbow as to not crush you.

The tip of his shaft rests between your pussy lips, rubbing your essence all over it while it beats against your clit, heavy and engorged.

Kings one arm clasps the bedding while another flexes against your neck, lightly tensing its grasp. You can only bring your digits to caress his abs built and maintained over the years. The sheen of sweat covers your body.

His hips jerk forward to push in his length carefully, it slides in with ease thanks to your previous orgasm. The stretch gives way to the burning pain at first, until it devolves into entirety. The way you feel around him steals small groans from King, the spikes of pleasure stab at his heart the longer he stills inside.

He can't hold himself back and you don't want him to.

The euphoric movement of his hips slamming against your cunt and his hand wandering closer to your chest, all the while struggling for breath is overwhelming in the most sinful of ways. The sound his body makes as he connects lights up your world which is already rocking with his actions. It's unbearable for you to contain all of it. Your face goes red and his grip is only making it angrier.

Your heavy eyelids close, legs shake, but he dares not to stop, a high pitched whines emit from you, who's grabbing at his hand that's squeezing and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.

He is nowhere near done with you.

How can you keep up with him?

You don't.

The next morning, a bouquet of bright red roses awaited on the bedside table, alongside angry blue and red marks littering your back and breasts, nipples sore and swollen, there's still cum dripping out of you, and a present lying on top of a love card reminding you of the special day.

You can't wait for him to get back so that you can show your gratitude.

[captainseamech]

//death.

[trying-something-n3w]

Dracule Mihawk X Archer!Fem!Reader

Summary: After almost bleeding to death going up against an admiral you find yourself on a dark and gloomy island where your injuries get the best of you. Making your way through the ominous land and standing off with a baboon on steroids you stumble upon a seemingly empty castle. Little did you know that not only was the castle occupied but occupied by a warlord, the world's greatest swordsman in training, and... A ghost girl?

word count: +5k

Warnings: blood, fighting, Zoro being Zoro, ooc Akainu, reader gets a bounty eventually, stealing from the marines, intrigued Mihawk, unsuspecting Kobe, feels for Mihawk, slow burn

Author's Notes: I'm SO happy people seem to like Chapter 1 of Learning Curve (Katakuri x Valkyrie!Fem!Reader) Updates will be slow but I promise it'll be worth the wait! If you ask to be tagged in the series I will def tag you! Anyway! Here is my first Mihawk writing, not sure if it will continue but let me know if you want more!

The waves were aggressive in these parts of the sea and you knew it, you just didn't want to admit you didn't know how to sail on your own, especially in the grad line. The blood running down your abdomen wasn't helping either. You hiss trying to tether the sails so you don't drift off course in your little boat. With the rain pelting your face you genuinely didn't know which direction you were going you just knew you had to get far away from here. In the distance behind you, there sits a smoking marine ship up in flames with the distinct shouts of everyone trying to give hurried orders. Your bow lay thrown on the deck with your arrows scattered at your feet. Escaping was particularly hard not knowing a fleet admiral was on board.

 What was meant to be a small robbery turned into a wild goose chase the second you crawled over the port side where said admiral was enjoying his tea. You both stare at each other for a solid minute before you laugh, smile, and book it. 

Running through the ship grabbing anything that looked of value, your dodging skills came in handy when the bullets started whizzing by your head. You didn’t mean to catch the ship on fire, honestly, that was the admiral's fault.

All the halls look the same to you as you dip in and out of doors. Some meeting rooms, some with bunk beds, and some supply closets.

 As you make your way through a kitchen you snag a tasty-looking roll then come face-to-face with Akainu blocking the only other exit in the room. You turn to go back the way you came when three more lieutenants block your way. They bring up their guns as you raise your hands and slowly turn back to the admiral.  

“If you give up now we won't have to do this the hard way.” Akainu tried to intimidate you, tried to give you an out but to no avail, you only smirk in response. 

“Now where’s the fun in that admiral?” In seconds you draw your bow and an arrow of your creation to send it straight through Akainu. He turns part of his abdomen to lava to avoid the arrow, exactly what you hoped for. A thick wire was attached to the arrow you shot connecting it to your wrist brace. Hitting a switch on your bow the wire starts to coil around the arrow pulling your light frame through the air. Due to Akainu melting half his abdomen to avoid the arrow, you fly through him. You hit the wall hard outside the kitchen with a grunt. That'll bruise for sure. You cut the wire with a blade attached to your thigh and bolt to your left hoping to be heading toward an exit. Unbeknownst to you back in the kitchen the three lieutenants are panicking watching the lava eat through the floor, the hole getting bigger by the minute. 

“Well, what are you waiting for go after her!” Akainu’s voice booms. The three lieutenants scatter out the door they were blocking, one dropping his rifle and going after you. 

Continuing through the halls you bound past two smaller marines, one with pinkish hair and glasses, the other one with yellow hair and a weird bullcut. With the roll in your mouth,  you make eye contact with the pink-haired marine and wink. His face flushes but does nothing to stop you. Rounding through the corridors you come in contact with a few more trainees but you take them out easily. One you knocked in the head with your bow and another you choke tell he passes out. The last one was a little harder engaging in combat with you. His moves were slow, not aiming for any of your vitals so you swiped his legs and carried on.

 The alarms start to blare in your ears when you notice the smell of paint burning. You make it to the front deck of the ship, slamming through a door, when you turn to see smoke billowing out from one side of the ship. While fighting off a handful of men one tries to pull your hair. You grimace while giving him a crazed smile as you cut your hair severing his hold on you. To be fair he didn't have a good hold so thankfully there was more length left than you thought. You kick his stomach with your heavy boot and run to a dingy attached to the side of the ship. 

Before you can safely lower the small boat you hear a deafening voice calling for more backup on the side you were trying to escape from. You look up and see Akainu standing on the tallest deck, face contorted in anger. You panic and start cutting the rope with the dagger to get as far away as possible. Right before you cut the last line Akainu sends some of his lava in your direction shaped as, who would have guessed, the arrow you shot earlier. You lift your arm swinging hard trying to get through the rope before it hits you. As the line severs and the boat drops you get hit directly in the abdomen, straight to where you aimed at Akainu. The impact of the water was bruising, and the added sting from the wound made you groan in agony while trying to set sail. Thankfully it was not a direct hit, most of Akainu’s shot hit the railing of the ship as you fell. 

You drifted from the smoky ship, shooting your head up when you started to hear guns fire. Once the small sail was finally set you paddle to add the extra distance. 

This is where you find yourself now, struggling against a storm that came out of nowhere. The Marine ship is now a small dot in the distance as you struggle to tie a piece of ripped cloth around your burned stomach. After, you try to make-shift some shelter from the emergency kit on board to protect yourself from the storm. You tie one last knot in the rope holding the sail then take cover as much as you can. You take a moment to assess your wound before hissing and pulling your shirt back down. Becoming exhausted from your little adventure (disaster) the sound of the thunder becomes a thought in the back of your mind as you drift farther into a warm darkness. 

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

Waking up who knows how long after your extravagant exit you find your undersized rig beached on a gloomy island. You try to sit up but hiss at the pain shooting through your torso. You quickly squeeze the wound trying to stop not only the bleeding but the pain. Slowly as you hold your breath you use the side of the boat to lift yourself to your feet. In the distance can be herded wild screams from an animal you hope not to run into. You sway as you take in your surroundings looking from left to right. At the top of a mountain sits an old-looking gray brick castle. Occupied or not you knew you needed to get to some safe cover. Trying and failing to pull the dingy more onshore you give up and hurry to grab your bow and arrows from the makeshift tent on board. Turning to the line of the forest you hesitate only for a second listening to the monstrous noises. The burning in your abdomen makes you take the first step.

Pushing past the first couple of bushes and trees the light becomes scarce with how dense the woods are. You pick up a stick and start taking out spider webs before you run into them venturing forward. With your other hand holding your wound you hurry in the direction of the castle.

The ominous sounds become closer the deeper you go. Noticing a branch snapping and the rustling of leaves you believe something is following you. You pause for a brief moment and hear it again but this time from above you. You turn to look behind you, the shore a small picture in the distance. As you turn to take a step to move on your head gets dizzy and your vision tunnels. For a split second, you thought you were gonna pass out from blood loss but something else kept you awake. A blood-curdling screech sounds from above you confirming that someone or something was tailing you. 

You lurch forward and roll on the ground with a deep painful grunt before taking your bow off your back, pointing an arrow at the beast that made contact with the ground behind you. The earth shakes with its landing and your balance almost wavers. The beast stands tall on two feet with a sword in hand. It resembles other monkey species you've run into before but you still don't know exactly what you were up against. 

Before it leaps for you, you let an arrow fly at its face. You turn quickly and flee before you can see the arrow burst into a powder on the creature. You glance behind your shoulder not stopping while clutching your side seeing the pinkish hase dissipate and the beast falls forward looking very sleepy. You let out a breath you don't realize you are holding. You haven’t tested the sleeping powder before now so you are very satisfied it seems to work! Before you can fully celebrate you start to hear even more loud beastly calls from the trees above you. They swung from tree to tree after you causing your stomach to drop, they were gaining on you. You pick up your pace hoping it's not too long before you reach the castle. Pushing past some thick shrubbery you almost fall forward as you come across a wide opening. You realize it's a stone path leading to the front doors of the castle. 

Still clutching your bleeding abdomen you rush forward not realizing the sounds of the beasts fade the closer you get to said castle. This time when your vision tunnels and your limbs get heavy you fall against tall double doors. You reach your bloodied hand up and start to pound, it may look abandoned and you may be dying but you still have decent common sense no matter how fast you are fading. Knocking was polite. Your blood was a stark contrast to the clean wood of the double door. Just when you think the castle is indeed abandoned you hear a female voice call from within. It didn't sound like it was directed to you but to others inside. You take a stumble back hearing a lock click before the door creaks open. Before you see anyone you hear the female voice speak again. 

“This better be good enough to interrupt my baking sesh otherwise I swear-” Cutting in you feel warmth fill your mouth. 

“Help ple-” Instead of finishing the sentence blood pools your mouth and spills over. You lift your hand trying to stop it from leaking out but there is too much. 

The younger girl with pink hair and frilly apron gasps, eyes widening as she yanks the door wider. 

“ZORO!” She shouts and before you can comprehend it there is a male presence next to you. Your eyes water with the realization that you might not make this one out alive. 

The green-haired male lifts your figure and halls you inside. Passing the threshold you become limp in his arms.

“Perona get Mihawk now.” Zoro says sternly yet he stays calm overall. The pinkette disappears down some hall as Zoro walks you down some corridors. The lights overhead are fading with every blink. You clutch onto Zoro’s shirt trying to stay conscious. He eventually kicks a door open and walks into a well-lit room. 

Zoro is talking to you, asking you questions trying to keep you conscious. You don't understand the words he says but you can still see his lips moving. Zoro lightly sets you on what you assume to be a bed before he rushes over to a table with some drawers on it. 

Turning your head you try to speak but nothing but blood splatters the white sheets. 

“Don't do that you'll make it worse.” You hear in the distance. Zoro is back with rags, gauze, and other things you didn't quite recognize in your hazy state. You hear more than feel Zoro rip your shirt open before pressing a rag to your wound. You don't hiss or react only close your eyes and let the tears flow. In the distance you hear the sound of clicking heals and heavy footsteps. A minute or so later the door to what you assume to be a medical ward opens swiftly. The pink-haired girl stands in the doorway with a tall and intimidating figure behind her. 

The first thing you notice are his striking golden eyes. If you weren't dying you'd be blushing because of his intense stare. The second thing you notice as your eyes drift is the pinched look on the girl's face. Did you look that bad? 

“What is going on here?” The taller figure asks with a clipped tone. Perona, as Zoro called her, glances at the greenette and then back up at the man beside her. 

“We aren't 100% sure, she was banging on the front door and this is how we found her.” Zoro removes the bloodied cloth from your wound to examine it. 

“Mihawk this looks bad, it's a major burn wound and it won't stop bleeding from the main laceration.” Zoro turns on his heels to face the two. “If we don't do something she is going to die.”

Perona looks up to who you now know as Mihawk, his face is blank. You don't recognize the name at first in your state but you feel like you should be more scared of the man in the doorway. His eyes shift down from Zoro’s face to yours. You hope your eyes were expressive enough to get across your plea for help. Perona shifts uneasily as Mihawk stays still, unmoving. With a deep sigh, he uncrosses his arms and steps in. Rolling up his sleeves he proclaims, 

“Fine but you are in charge of her when she wakes Perona.” Some type of relief falls over your body and you sag with exhaustion. 

“Me!? Why me?!” Perona shouts at Mihawk for assigning her to nurse duty. Zoro gets out of Mihawk's way as he sits down to examine your wound. He feels your forehead, eyes slightly scowling knowing you are likely running a fever as well. Mihawk starts listing off things for Zoro and Perona to get for him to work on you but your consciousness is fading fast. Mihawk notices with a side glance and tilts his head to you. 

“Sleep. You won't want to feel this.” These are the last words you remember before the darkness takes hold of your body.

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

Two days pass unbeknownst to you. Your sleeping figure fighting against the wound and the fever. Zoro goes about his business training though stopping by whenever he seems to stumble upon the medical ward. His straight face was easily readable to Perona, knowing he was worried about the stranger lying unconscious in the bed. Perona was bouncing around the infirmary rinsing cool rags and setting them on your head, she also changed your wound dressings when she noticed them getting a little too red. Most of the bleeding stopped by the first night but every once in a while you would jolt in your sleep and a new gush of blood would slowly seep through the dressings. 

If Perona wasn't taking care of you she was sitting next to you reading and sipping on some tea. Mihawk hovers only to see when you would wake up. On the second night, everyone retires for the evening when you wake up with a start. You gasp with wide eyes as you try to remember where you were. The room is dark with only the moonlight and a single candle illuminating the wide space. Your hand makes its way to the throbbing of your side to find newly wrapped gauze and padding. You slowly move the blankets and shirt to look down at yourself. Admiring a job well done you try to sit up. The pain that shoots through you makes you hesitate but you push yourself. You swing your feet over to have them land on cool tiling. You notice you weren't in your original clothing, now sporting loose joggers and a loose-fitting top. You take a deep breath almost gagging at how sterile the room is, you could almost taste it. 

Taking small light steps you make your way to the door opening it slowly. You lean heavily on the door frame when entering the hall. You look both ways before you notice a very faint light coming from the end of the hall around the corner. Relying on the stability of the wall you make your way past paintings and doors. Once you reach the end of the hall you turn to find an archway about a quarter way down the corridor. Hissing at the sharp pain when you try to stand straight you step forward anyway. Reaching the warm light you now see a cozy yet large library with a fireplace burning on one side of the room. Your eyes widen at the vast collection of books. You take one step inside before you feel a hand grab your left arm. 

“You are supposed to be resting little one.” You gasp at the light hold and deep voice. Whipping your head to the side you meet the same piercing gold eyes with the same intense stare. You have to crane your neck to fully meet his gaze. You stutter trying to respond but before you can Mihawk is leading you to a sofa in front of the fireplace. A book lay abandoned on the arm of the couch which you assume he was occupying before you interrupted. He sat you down gingerly before taking a seat in the chair diagonal from you. You clear your throat when you finally find your voice.

“Thank you… For everything. I wasn’t aware this castle was occupied when I landed here but I am very grateful it was. All of you saved my life.” You stare into the fire mesmerized by the dancing flames. You glance at Mihawk nervous now conscious of who he was. First an admiral and now a warlord. What next? The king of the pirates? 

Mihawk sat frozen with his legs crossed and his hands conjoined above his mouth just observing you. You shift under his gaze and look back to the fire. Before you find the words to continue Mihawk breaks his silence. 

“The other two showed up in similar states. At this point, it's like I’m running a hospital.” You turn away and grimace. You knew you were being a burden but he didn't need to say it so coldly. As if reading your thoughts Mihawk continues seemingly unbothered. 

“Perona will be taking care of you as you burn heals. From the looks of your abdomen, you probably won't be able to sail for at least two weeks.” Your eyes widen at his words, just how bad did Akainu get you? Your eyes drift down to your wound where your hand already sat. You were in a good amount of pain right now all things considered. Probably not the best idea to wonder for too long. 

“Either way, thank you for your hospitality and I’ll work hard to get out of your hair soon enough Sir.” You don't meet his eyes but you can feel his gaze on you, his eyes raking over your body. To you, he’s analyzing if you were to become a threat. In reality, he was wondering how much longer you would stay conscious. You have some pretty heavy pain meds in your system now so for you to be holding a conversation was impressive. Not that he would admit that. 

“Mihawk is fine.” This is when you finally meet his eyes. Expecting his intense and methodical stare you were surprised to see curiosity and interest. You turn your head back to the fireplace in hopes the glow of the flames could mask your slight blush. His eyes were gorgeous when not giving someone the death glare. 

“Since you seem fine enough to hold a basic conversation, I am intrigued to know how you stumbled upon my land and home. Do tell little one.” Mihawk uncrosses his legs and stands. He walks over to a wine rack and picks a bottle easily. “Wine?” He questions without turning around. You take a chance to admire his back muscles while you can. 

“Please. That sounds fantastic. And the names (Y/n) for your information.” You wear a hint of a smile enjoying your banter with the warlord. Mihawk walks back to his seat across from you and sets down two wine glasses. He fills them equally and leans back taking a long sip. You grab yours and smell, you’ve always enjoyed a nice aroma to your wine. Taking a sip you lean back as well, relaxing on the sofa. 

“Well, where do I even begin? First and foremost, I am a traveling merchant. I get hired to do odd jobs as I travel around from island to island. My skills are a wide variety from handling a bow and arrow to basic construction to hunting people down. I like to keep people on their toes. Currently, I am between jobs, I was sailing to Water 7 when I came in contact with a Marine vessel. It was smaller, maybe a cargo ship. I thought since I am low on funds, what's a little scavenger hunt gonna do?” You take another sip of your wine before setting down the glass on the low table in front of you. Resting your elbows on your knees you warm your hands up and rest them against your face. 

“I didn't know there was a fleet admiral on board at the time. Let alone know it was Akainu.” You side glance at Mihawk and see the barest twitch of his eyebrows. You take that as a queue to continue. 

“I climbed aboard not thinking much of it at the time but I should have scoped it out more beforehand. I should have absorbed my surroundings and should have followed the ship for a while before boarding. There was plenty I could have done at the moment to prevent what happened but… I slipped up. I was starving, being out at sea for so long without food and water will do that to ya I guess.” Your shoulders slump as you sag backward. “At first when I got past him I thought I was in the clear. I should have known from the moment I set foot on the deck that I wasn't getting away unscathed. After running around for a while and tumbling through marine after marine he finally spotted my getaway. Before I knew it I was dropping a dinghy into the water and my abdomen was bleeding. My goal was Water 7 but a storm swept in. My old rig being left behind I set sail and hoped for the best.” 

You were leaving out key details like the amount you got off the ship or how you got jumped by a baboon on steroids on your way to his castle but he didn't need to know that. You open your eyes to look at the man beside you and notice he is looking into the fireplace. You couldn’t recognize the emotions you saw in his eyes but you assumed it was nothing bad considering you were still sitting next to the warlord. For a brief moment, you didn’t think he would say anything but he surprised you by setting down his now-empty wine glass and standing. You follow his movements out of your peripheral and take the last swig of your wine. Before a second thought crosses your mind Mihawk then extends his hand in invitation. You glance at his hand and then up to meet his eyes but he still looks towards the fire. You set your wine glass down next to his and proceed to stand. Or, attempt to stand, that is. As you flex your abdomine to gain balance a sharp pain runs through your stomach. You hiss as you drop back on the sofa. You look up to Mihawk again now understanding his gesture. You take his hand without looking at his face and he helps you stand on your own two feet. 

“You must be hungry. I always say a good wine requires a good snack.” Mihawk lets you lean some weight onto his arm as he leads you out of the library. 

“A snack sounds fantastic right about now.” As if in queue your stomach lets out an atrocious growl that reddens your face. Mihawk peeks at you while you look at a very interesting painting as if your stomach didn't drop an atomic bomb in the hallway. 

“With the looks of it, I’m surprised you lasted this long without collapsing. Undernourished and injured do not mix well.” It’s as if the briefest hint of a smile crosses Mihawk’s face. You barely catch a glimpse as your eyes dart to his. 

“As small as I seem I am one tough cookie thank you very much.” You retort as you raise your head high. “My skills with my bow did not come easily.” You say almost to yourself. Mihawk does not miss this. The rest of the walk to what you assumed to be the kitchen was silent. A comfortable silence as you admire the decor and photos. Most are of landscapes and waterfalls but one in particular caught your attention before you walked past a threshold. 

Sitting upon the bleak wall was a massive photo of Yoru, Mihawk’s beloved sword. You pause admiring the beautiful craftwork and detail in the painting. Mihawk glances at the painting before down at you. His gaze sweeps your face admiring the awe in your eyes. He’d never admit it but the look on your face now was almost as beautiful as the painting you admire. With your mouth slightly open and eyes wide you take your time to absorb the scene. Yoru stands tall in the center, leaning up against gold and jewels. The gold cross-guard somehow shone brighter than any piece of jewelry in the painting. The black blade is a contrast to the vibrant colors of the gems surrounding it. Your breath catches in your throat as your memory is thrown to your beloved bow and arrows. 

“My stuff. Where is it?” Your voice was slightly colder in tone when you spoke. Mihawk lets you lean against the wall next to the painting of Yoru and takes a step away. He turns and crosses the threshold to the kitchen before responding calmly.

“Your things are in a guest bedroom you will be moving to after you eat.” You visibly calm, the tension leaving your body. You take one last glance at Yoru before proceeding. Your bow and arrows were your most valuable possessions, a gift that could never be replaced. You support more of your weight on your feet as you follow Mihawk. You venture to the island in the middle of the room and sit on a bar stool. Mihawk opens a pantry pulls out a loaf of bread and makes his way to a refrigerator. He proceeds to pull out some ingredients and begins to make you a sandwich. To your amazement, you find a delicious meal presented to you on a porcelain plate within a minute or so. 

“Again, thank you…” You glance up at Mihawk before you continue. “You know, for a terrifying warlord you’re very sweet.” 

You look from the food to him again. He stands across from you leaning up against the opposite counter. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you can't help but notice the veins running down his forearms and into his hands. A shiver runs down your spine and you take a big bite of the sandwich averting your eyes. Before you can question if Mihawk saw you staring he takes a couple of steps forward resting his hands on the island you sit at. He acts as if your last comment was never said.

“For the next few days, I don't expect you to be up and walking as much. Once you are however we can discuss payment options for my… Services.” Mihawk says with an earnest gaze. Swallowing hard you set the sandwich back onto its place in front of you. Trying to sit up as straight as possible you meet his eyes head-on, trying not to seem intimidated or nervous even when your stomach was in knots. However, you couldn't tell if it was from hunger or anxiety.

“Of course, I understand. Whatever it is I’ll do my best to pay you back. You did save my life after all.” Mihawk just hums in reply and stands. 

“Finish your food and I’ll assist you to your room.” With that, he steps out of the kitchen for a moment. 

Taking this opportunity you shove your face with the delicious sandwich. Nothing has ever tasted so good after weeks of no food at sea. You slow down reaching the last few bites of the sandwich wanting to savor the flavors like it's your last meal. With your life, you never knew when your last meal was going to be. Licking your fingers and patting your stomach you sigh. With the food now in your full stomach you take a moment to look around the Kitchen. It's a decent size even with the island in the middle of the room. Plenty of cabinets lined the tall walls and a pantry sits in one corner. You wonder if Mihawk likes to cook. With the look of how clean it was he either loved to cook or never did. You stand gingerly trying to walk without the support of a wall or counter. You felt confident the first few steps to the sink but right when you thought you were in the clear a stabbing pain flew through your abdomen making you cringe and fall forward. You were able to lightly toss the plate onto the countertop before hitting the ground on your knees. Before your face falls flat on the hardwood an arm comes across your chest. Even with your hair now blocking your face you knew it was Mihawk from the solid frame and sweet red wine breath. One hand clutches his arm as the other goes to your wound. You inhale sharply feeling yourself start to sweat from the pain. 

“Let's get you to your room shall we?” Mihawk’s warm breath fans the top of your head, you squeeze your eyes shut trying to will away the pain.

“Give me a second to catch my breath and I-” 

Without warning you are lifted into the air and pressed against a warm chest.

“Please, if you walk now you'll reopen my stitching.” Mihawk begins to walk gently out of the kitchen to a tall set of stairs by the front double doors. You can’t say anything with the warmth that spreads across your face. Hawkeye freaking Mihawk is carrying you up to a guest bedroom and you think your heart is about to jump out of your throat. Whether it is from butterflies or anxiety you couldn't tell. 

Mihawk observes you for a brief moment noticing you hiding your face with your hair but chooses not to say anything. He knows his presence is intimidating and even though that is not his goal he can't help it. The persona he has built over the years as an intimidating warlord has protected him and haunted him. Yes, he may not be actively trying to participate with a group of pirates but no one ever said he never got lonely. With Zoro and Perona around, their presence has helped him realize he wouldn’t mind having someone around permanently possibly. Someone he knows is always going to be at home when he returns. What circumstances of the relationship with that person were still unknown to him but having another body around would be nice, to say the least. 

Reaching the top of the stairs Mihawk turns to the right and passes a couple doors before stopping in front of one that was slightly ajar. Using his elbow to open it all the way Mihawk turns to not hit you on the door. He walks over to the king-sized bed that was situated at the far wall of the room and lies you gently on the covers. You take in the room, your head on a swivel when you notice all of your belongings on the desk up against a wall. You visibly relax as you turn your attention to Mihawk who is now at the end of the bed. He gestures to a small tray lying on the trunk stationed at the end of the bed.

“If the pain gets any worse take these and they will help you sleep. In the morning I’ll let Perona know you woke up late in the night and she will meet you for breakfast.” Before Mihawk could turn away and exit he gets caught frozen in place. You sat situated in the middle of the bed now, hair frazzled from days of not being washed yet the look you give him makes his heart skip a beat. Your appreciative gaze is crinkled by the wide smile you show him. You look younger, not injured. Your cheeks are rosy from the cool night air and your nose scrunches with your now Cheshire cat smile. 

“Thank you Mihawk, truly. I look forward to speaking with you again.” You open your eyes once more and you could have sworn you saw the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. Before you can see, Mihawk is turning towards the door and making his exit.

“Likewise little one.” 

[cautelous]

i’m sort of back. hi. break has given me the ability to sit down for more than two seconds.

[pascalpvnk]

Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

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Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work. 

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show. 

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame. 

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous. 

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing. 

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.  

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses. 

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.  

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject. 

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting. 

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that. 

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape. 

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt. 

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you. 

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight. 

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties. 

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure. 

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck. 

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him. 

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear. 

“You, Joel.”

to keep up to date on upcoming parts, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications. thank you for reading!! <3

[in-my-feels-probably]

Could u do an imagine where reader's hair is red and daemon's absolutely obsessed with it?Thank you.

Would u consider doing an imagine where its basically daemon and the reader have a love /hate relationship but then they confess their love when Daemon comes back from tbe StepStones

My Fire

Request: Could u do an imagine where reader’s hair is red and daemon’s absolutely obsessed with it?Thank you

Hi! I love this request, it’s so cute. I wish I had red hair, I’ve dyed it a wine color before, but I’m considering dying it a copper color at some point. I didn’t know if you wanted bright red hair, or something like ginger, so I left it kinda up to the reader, I hope that’s ok. Also, I made the reader fem, and a friend of Rhaenyra from another house, so I could make sense of the reader's hair color. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think.

And yes, I can write that other request, just submit an ask with any ideas or details you want and I’ll add it to the list.

(Warnings: i don't think there are any, maybe an ooc daemon, let me know if i missed any)

—

Rhaenyra had finally convinced you to let her braid your hair, framing pieces around your face and twisting the strands into intricate designs all around your head. You normally kept it simple, and out of your face, pulled back neatly. 

With the amount of time you spent with Rhaenyra, often on dragonback, you didn’t have the time to fiddle with your hair, as it would get tangled anyway. 

Even then, you had no great love for your hair. The high born boys of your house often made fun, teasing you about the color. As you grew older, the boys turned to men, and the comments became a lot cruder. Rhaenyra, ever the fiery spirit, always had your back. You were a handful of years older than her, and it was quite funny to see a little girl instill fear in boys twice her height. Although, you supposed that had more to do with her father being the King, and her Uncle, who had quite the reputation, being fiercely protective over the pair of you.

Rhaenyra often begged to have you let her do something with your hair, so you could hold your head high and walk with confidence, and you finally caved to her incessant pestering. And you had to admit, you did look quite nice when she finished. 

“You have plans with my Uncle today, do you not?” Rhaenyra asked, smirking.

You raised a brow, watching her grin. “You’re such a little meddler! Is that why you kept asking? I swear, you’re too much like your Uncle.”

“That’s why you love him,” she laughed, blocking her face from the pillow you slung her way. “And he loves your hair, you know that. Why hide it from him?”

You groaned, hiding your heated cheeks in your palms. “Gods, you really are like him. I bet he put you up to this. You two are always a recipe for a disaster. You could take down the Seven Kingdoms if you put your mind to it.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Bold plans, for a later time. For now…you have to meet with my Uncle. Off you go, now.”

She shooed you away from her, blowing a kiss in your direction. You rolled your eyes, opening her chamber door. “I’ll get you back for this. And him too. You both have nothing on me. You should be scared!”

You accepted Ser Harwin’s arm as he closed the door behind you, guiding you down the steps that led towards the Dragon Pit. 

“Thank you, Ser.”

He smiled and nodded, returning to his post outside Rhaenyra’s door. “Good day, My Lady.”

You made your way to the pit, anxiously awaiting your day with Daemon. You arrived to see him standing in front of Caraxes, seemingly talking to him. You laughed to yourself, watching Caraxes find you in his sight, perking up at your presence. 

You whistled, smiling as Caraxes bristled, letting out a happy shrill that mimicked yours.

Daemon turned at the sound of your voice, a grin creeping its way onto his face at the sight of you. He smiled, a genuine rare smile, holding his hand out for you to take. 

“My Lady,” he greeted, as you stepped up to greet Caraxes. The dragon lowered his head, letting you run a light hand down his nose. 

Daemon watched you in awe, amazed at how he managed to get a girl like you. As far as he was concerned, the whole of the Seven Kingdoms paled in comparison to the woman who was akin to fire. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “I was going to say you look beautiful, but that’s a bit of an understatement. You’re always beautiful.”

His smirk grew as he watched you fight the flush in your cheeks, and he continued on to save you from the embarrassment of stuttering like a fool in front of him, which he regularly made you do.

“I see Rhaenyra finally got her hands on you,” he said, twisting a loose curl around his finger. 

“She did,” you nodded. “I’m not quite sure what her fascination with it is. Who knows how many times I’ve wished for hers. Your family has beautiful hair. I’ve hardly ever met anyone with mine, aside from a few Tully’s. Even so, theirs is auburn, they blend in well enough. I might as well have lit a flame atop my head.”

“That’s a good thing. Everyone else is dreadfully boring. You stand out.” 

Daemon was still transfixed with your hair, twirling it around his finger. You watched him, amused.

“I suppose so. As do you. But yours is regarded as royal. It shines like a silver star. What is mine like? A..uh, a–”

“A dragon,” He interrupted your thoughts, his eyes suddenly meeting yours. You held your breath under his icy gaze. He reassured you a second time. “Like a dragon.”

“I don’t understand.” You shook your head, confused. 

Daemon gazed down at you thoughtfully, gently moving you to stand behind him. You remained silent and followed his lead as he led you to the edge of the pit, where Caraxes had settled. He kept a protective arm in front of you, although he knew Caraxes wouldn’t harm you. 

“Caraxes,” He called, clicking his tongue to get the dragon’s attention. “Sōvegon.”

Fly.

Caraxes flapped his wings, lifting into the sky. 

“Dracarys!” 

Caraxes let a tumbling roar emerge from his throat, breathing fire into the sky above him. 

You watched in wonder, feeling the heat on your skin as the flames danced in the sky. Daemon slid his hand into yours, turning your attention back to him. 

“You’re like a dragon, with hair to match. Flames and heat, scorching to the touch. Like an inferno, embers dancing in the sky. You might not have the hair of a Targaryen, but you have the heart of one. Caraxes can sense it, and I can sense it. You’re akin to fire, like me. And it’s beautiful. Wear it with pride. Wear it with power.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, filled with overwhelming emotion. You squeezed his hand in yours, and he bent down, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Issa gevie, se iksā gevie. Ñuha mele. Ñuha perzys. Ñuha zaldrīzes.”

It is beautiful, and you are beautiful. My red. My fire. My dragon. 

You brought a palm up to rest on his cheek, swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, before running your fingers through his hair. 

“Ñuha qēlos,” you returned, watching Daemon fight the flush that crept onto his cheeks.

My star.

“Aōhon,” he nodded, holding you close to him, one of his hands finding its way back into your curls.

Yours.

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry this is kinda short, I’ve been really busy and haven’t had the chance to write. This was my first time writing for Daemon, I hope it’s alright.